#all the sugar and twice the caffeine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #mafia boss price #mafia!price #assistant reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au

1K notes · View notes

theemporium · 9 months

Note

sugar daddy charles concerned af when he doesn’t hear from his girl but she keeps pulling all nighters for uni and she is crashing and burning so he jets over to sort her life out

listen this just happened and i don't even know what to say for myself but anyways🤠

“Charles—”

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay. That’s it, mon amour, just like that,” he cooed softly as he ran his fingers gliding up and down your thighs. “Just let go f’me.”

“I-I can’t,” you whined, shaking your head as the tears began to well up in your eyes. It was too much. Far too much, and still a part of you craved more. “I need to—”

“You need to listen to me, amour,” he murmured against your skin, pressing light and soft kisses along the inside of your thighs. “And I’m telling you to relax.”

It wasn’t unusual for you to not answer your messages straight away. After all, Charles himself got caught up in meetings and duties, and it sometimes meant that he wouldn’t be able to reply for a few hours. He knew you were in a similar position with lectures and classes and meetings with your professors.

But it was different.

Usually it was just a bad day here or there, but this time it had been a few days in a row and his concern was growing. You barely replied to him, and even when you did, your replies were sporadic at best. When he looked at the shared location you both had, his worry grew tenfold when he realised you hadn’t left your flat in days. But his breaking point was when he sent someone to deliver food at your door, and despite the insistent knocking, it went unanswered.

You weren’t taking care of yourself, and he didn’t like it at all.

Charles pushed all his meetings and duties back a week. They still had a fortnight until the next race weekend and they could cope in Maranello alone without him for a while. They would have to. He called the company to have the jet waiting for him at the airport as he drove over, and he hopped on a plane straight to you.

And when he arrived, Charles realised he was right.

You were overworking yourself. You were barely eating or sleeping or drinking enough water. You probably had more caffeine in your body than a human ever should have. You looked exhausted and he could see the toll it was starting to take on you, and yet you still insisted that you needed to study for your exams that you had in almost a month’s time.

You weren’t taking care of yourself in the slightest, and his heart broke. You were his: his love, his equal, his partner, his to take care off. He wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and spoiled like you deserved to be, and instead you were working yourself to the bone and he didn’t think you even realised just how far you were pushing yourself.

So, Charles got you to relax in the only way he knew how.

Maybe it was a little manipulative to say he just wanted to hold you, that he wanted to be selfish and enjoy just laying down with you before you started studying again. But you were too tense and too tired and too overworked, and it was Charles’ job to take care of you so that’s what he did.

“Hmm, my girl wants to come again?” He questioned, his hands pawing and squeezing the fat of your thighs as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. He had you sprawled on the bed for the last forty minutes, made you come at least twice on his tongue, and he had no interest in stopping. “Say it, amour. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you gasped out as your fingers fisted the sheets, a choked out moan leaving your lips as he licked a thick strip up your soaking cunt. “Charles, I need you. Please.”

“That’s it, amour,” he groaned happily as he nuzzled his face further against you, kissing and licking and sucking until his hands were pinning you down to the mattress. “You need me, and I’m gonna take care of you like I always do, yes?”

“Yes!” You whined, your back arching off the bed as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked hard.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he lifted his head, his lips and chin glistening with your release. “Gonna make you come one more time and then you’re gonna dress up all pretty so I can take you out for dinner. Do you understand?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, a little high-pitched and a little too dazed to say words right now.

But Charles grinned in response anyways. “My perfect girl.”

2K notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 6 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 3 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting, food aversions, fatigue, some angst sprinkled in for ~flavor~

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

March 1999

Oatmeal: a delicious, nutritious breakfast food that has been a staple in your diet since you were a child. It hasn’t done anything wrong.

Until now.

The scents of brown sugar and cinnamon always perk you up in the morning; at least, as much as anything can without containing copious amounts of caffeine. Today; however, they waft past your nose and have you hurtling towards the bathroom.

Eddie runs in from the bedroom, his jeans button still unfastened where he’d abandoned getting dressed for work. “S’okay,” he murmurs, rubbing your back as you empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Your cheeks blaze with the rush of blood to your face and the shame from being in such a vulnerable position.

You spit the last of it into the bowl and grab a handful of toilet paper to wipe your lips, taking a moment to collect yourself before slowly standing up. Eddie places a warm washcloth in your palm; you hadn’t even heard the faucet running over the pounding in your ears.

“Thanks,” you mumble, pressing the damp cloth to your forehead and taking a deep, shaky breath. This isn’t your first bout of morning sickness–that happened about a week after you received your positive test result–and it likely won’t be the last. Still, you’re surprised at how quickly your husband has adapted to this relatively new routine.

He kisses your scalp, nimble fingers fixing his pants button and buckling his belt. “Are you sure you wanna go to work today?” he asks, concern pinching his brows as he takes in your exhausted form.

You nod slowly, determined to stop the room from spinning. “I already took off twice last week.”

“So?”

“So,” you explain with a sigh, “I don’t want to use up all of my sick days in the first trimester. Not when I’ll have more doctor appointments as I get farther along.” Not to mention the fact that people have started questioning your absences, and you’re not ready to tell anyone the reason just yet. “Besides, I woke up feeling okay; I didn’t throw up until I smelled the oatmeal.” Your insides lurch at the mere mention of the food, and you find yourself hovering over the bowl once more.

Eddie hums knowingly as he runs the washcloth under the water again and wrings it out with a twist of his hands. “Uh-huh. And what if one of your students happens to talk about oat–”

“Don’t say it!” you cut him off as forcefully as you can, fighting your buckling knees as you steady yourself.

He relents, exasperatedly pivoting back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. There’s little sense in arguing with you, especially with a nosy little boy eating breakfast in the kitchen not even twenty feet away. As far as Harris knew, you’d just been battling a stomach bug, and you and Eddie were both grateful that he hadn’t questioned it further. His response was telling you a…charming story about how his friend Charlie ate three bags of Hot Cheetos before promptly vomiting all over the cafeteria table; an anecdote that did nothing to quell your nausea.

You pull yourself together enough to make it to work. The queasiness subsides as the minutes tick on, though you take your lunch break in your car to avoid any smells in the faculty lounge that could inadvertently trigger another bout of sickness. You half-heartedly go through the motions of story time and arts and crafts, silently promising your students that you’ll have more enthusiasm once your second trimester begins.

By the time you arrive back home and trudge through the door, you may as well be dragging sandbags from your ankles. Exhaustion hits you without warning, your eyelids heavier with each passing second. You drop your keys on the side table and glance over at the clock hanging on the wall. The larger hand has barely ticked past the “6,” which means you have just under a half hour until you have to leave and pick up Harris from his after-school art program.

You don’t even make it to your bedroom, heaving your body onto the couch with a grunt; the stiff pillows have never been more comfortable. The last thought that crosses your fatigued mind is that you can’t sleep for long. If you lay down for a moment…set an alarm for fifteen minutes…

You’re awoken not of your own accord, but by the sound of the apartment door squeaking, the knob thwacking against the wall as though it’s being flung open.

“Thank God you’re okay.” It comes out in one breath, Eddie’s relief palpable as soon as he sees that you’re alive and breathing.

Still groggy with sleep, you push yourself onto your elbows, squinting at the influx of light from the hallway. Why wouldn’t you be okay? You were just taking a nap; it’s only been…an hour and a half?

“Shit, shit, shit!” You scramble to your feet, not even cognizant of the fact that you’re swearing in front of Harris. You take in his tear-stained face, comprehending his thought process before he can even say it aloud. “Har, I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t forget about you. I’ve just been really sleepy–”

“Har, can you go to your room for a sec?” Eddie keeps his voice even and controlled, but you can still sense the frustration simmering beneath. He puts his hands on his son’s shoulders and gives a tense squeeze, and Harris nods and somberly obeys.

Your misty eyes meet your husband’s gaze, his jaw steeled as you fumble to explain yourself. “Eddie, it was a total accident! I…I needed to rest…I didn’t think I’d sleep this long…”

He shakes his head, arms dejectedly hanging by his sides. “I asked you not to go to work,” he says softly, teeth digging into his lower lip. “It’s not because I think you’re weak or incapable or anything like that. You just need to take care of yourself.” His voice drops to an even quieter whisper as he walks closer to you, caressing your cheek. “You’re growing our baby, Sweetheart. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“I know,” you murmur, tears leaking from your eyes. “I’m not good at slowing down.” You can usually push yourself to your limits with minimal consequences, but it seems like those days are behind you.

Eddie tilts your chin so you’re looking directly at him. His expression isn’t as hard; a faint smirk of understanding graces his lips. “And I love how driven you are. But your mission for the next nine months—should you choose to accept it—is to incubate Baby Munson.”

“Incubate?” You wrinkle your nose as his phrasing.

“Incubate,” he affirms with a kiss to your nose. “Now, why don’t you go check on Harris, and I’ll start dinner.” His hand rests on the small of your back. “I was just gonna roast some chicken breasts, if that works for you?” It’s a quick and easy dinner that you have once a week.

But it looks like it might be off the menu for a bit; your eyes bulge and your palm flies to your mouth as soon as you imagine the varying textures of meat and skin.

“On second thought,” Eddie mutters, plucking a Surfer Boy pamphlet from the kitchen drawer, “maybe we’ll do pizza tonight.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

365 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 4 months

Note

hiiiiii!!!! i saw your requests were open and i’m so excited i love your writing so much!! i was wondering if you would be willing to do a coffee shop au of spencer x barista!reader? i feel like it would be very fluffy :) <3

a healthy caffeine addiction

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer finds a new coffee shop near work and he may be going there not just for the coffee...

pairing: s.reid x gn!barista!reader

w.c: 3K

warnings/content: a lot of flirting; mentions of case related stuff but you blink and you miss it; fluff fluff!! (you asked for it); swearing.

A/N: hi! I used gender neutral pronouns because you didn't specify so I thought it would fit best. the coffee shop is called “enchanted brewing” just do you don't get confused. one more thing! I mixed two of his best eras, glasses + long hair just because I was feeling a little silly. thank you for the request <3

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[requested] ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh, look, it's boy genius again.” You muse upon seeing a certain long-haired FBI agent next on the line. He's wearing a purple tie today which checks out your theory that it's his favorite color because he's always wearing something purple. It would be funny if it was an unconscious choice. “What's your order today, Dr. Reid? Maybe some coffee with your sugar?” You ask as if you hadn't seen him earlier in the day and had repeated the same thing.

You've met Spencer Reid when he walked in one day as the coffee shop you work in was still closed. He hadn't seen the closed sign. After spending five minutes straight apologizing, you delivered him his coffee order promising he wasn't bothering you. Especially if he was a cute guy with glasses. But you didn't say that last thing out loud, of course.

He's been coming to Enchanted Brewing for two weeks now. You have his order memorized from each early morning that he strides in through the entrance, his satchel hanging from his right shoulder as his bright honey-brown eyes scan through the menu on the wall. He always did that in spite of ordering the same thing from the first day.

Your timeline is slightly offbeat today. Your favorite costumer usually comes in on his way to work, once a day. Except that today he showed up twice. You're not complaining, you're currently trying to hide how happy you are that he appeared right on time for your lunch break.

“I want something different,” he says, adjusting his glasses as he looks at you with a timid smile. “Surprise me?”

“Oh.” You quickly recovered — did you? — from the spell he had you in and moved to prepare his drink. “I'll definitely surprise you, boy genius.” You already had one in mind. Your boss shots you a glare from the other side of the counter where he's delivering an order for a regular. He had reminded you of your lunch break an hour ago but you ended up attending clients and time passed by. You mouthed that it was your last one before lunch and he rolled his eyes with a knowing smile.

You take Spencer to a table outside. The day was good enough to not worry about a storm interrupting your afternoon coffee. Not yet, at least.

“So.” You utter after taking a bite of your sandwich. Spencer is sipping on the surprise he asked for and you are no profiler but your guess is that he liked it. “Aproved?”

“One hundred percent approved. What is this?” He makes a sound of satisfaction as he drinks it again. A smug grin reaches your face. “It's so good.”

You hum, “It is. From how much you like your sweets, I thought you'd like this one. Though, it barely tastes like coffee.”

Spencer silently agrees with you. “What's it called? I can taste caramel.”

“It's a caramel macchiato,” you reply, sipping your watermelon juice. “Caramel is all you can taste, boy genius.” You laugh at the way his cheeks turn pink at your nickname. Ever since he told you about his PhD's and his age. “To what do I own the pleasure of seeing you twice in a day?”

He takes his time putting the cup on the table, fingertips grazing the sides in half circles. When he meet your gaze, you were already staring, but you have the decency to look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. Thank god you were done eating or else you'd be blushing and attempting to swallow your food. Not a good view.

“Um, I... I didn't have a case today and I finished paperwork early so I thought I'd come, um.” He stammers, straightening his posture and exhaling. The middle of his forehead creased a bit and you find it incredibly endearing seeing him trying to figure out the words.

“...you were craving caffeine so you came to the best place near your work?” you complete his sentence with a playfully smirk dancing across your lips.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaims, clearing his throat realising his voice had failed. He offers you a sheepish smile, to which you respond with a grin of your own. “Yes, and... well.”

“It's okay,” you tap your fingers against the hard wood. “You can admit that I make the best coffee.” The convinced stance you had made him chuckle, eyes traveling over your frame discreetly. He could only hope he was being discreet.

“I wanted to see you.” He admits. “And for the coffee, of course.”

Sometimes you had the impression that he did know the effect he had on you, either that or he just didn't want to see it.

“Of course.” You nod as if it was obvious. “Sure.” He wanted to see me? Me?

He pulls his glasses up again, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. He was about to say something when he jumped on his seat, groaning as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“I have to go,” he says, disappointment lacing through his tone. You brush off his apologetic expression.

“That's completely understandable. Duty calls.” Both of you stand up. You still had half an hour left of your lunch, you guess you would have to resort to play your mobile game instead of flirting with a handsome FBI agent. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Hopefully,” Spencer picks up his work bag and the coffee cup you thought he had already finished. The corners of his lips raise a bit when he catches the boy genius written in a messy handwriting on the cup. “It's not a local case...”

“Oh,” you try to hide your lack of joy. “Alright. Be careful then.” Spencer nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “And don't betray me for another barista, boy genius.” That got you one of his short laughs that made his eyes crinkle in the edges.

“Never.”

──────────────

Spencer was back three days later. The case was a hard one, one of those were the unsub decided to not make their lives easier and kept moving across state lines to hide. He was keeping a victim hostage in the trunk of his car and thankfully, they were able to save her in time. Everybody was granted a day-off to get some rest.

It's not like Spencer was married to his work, in fact, he could enjoy a little alone time in the comfort of his home with a book and some coffee to accompany his quiet reading.

But that's the problem.

Routines are hard to create and they are hard to let go of. Ever heard the saying “old habits die hard”?

Ivan Pavlov researched about classical conditioning. According to him, you have a stimulus and a response in a given situation. It is likely that you'll keep repeating an action if it proves to be beneficial to you. If you like doing it, you'll barely notice it became an habit.

He's been visiting your coffee shop almost every day for the past weeks and that is an habit he's gotten quite comfortable with.

Therefore, in order to not disturb his routine that is very very important to him — honestly? Spencer can't handle changes — he drives down to Enchanted Brewing. The soft jingle of the bell alerted of his entrance.

Spencer gets in line. There's seven people in front of him, maybe because it's lunch hour and all of them are rushing to get their orders. Spencer waits. He still hasn't heard any flirting remarks or winks sent his way and he's not sure if you are not behind the counter today or if his lenses are just really blurried that he can't see your pretty face.

“Afternoon, sir. What would you like to order today?”

You are definitely not behind the counter and he's slightly confused before listing off his order. The clerk notes it down, then he stops midway, studying Spencer with narrowed eyes.

“You're boy genius?”

Spencer blinks, startled. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish and really, what is that question? How is he even supposed to answer that? You call him that, so is that a yes? Is he supposed to say yes—

“Sorry,” the guy says, shaking his head with a laugh, “they told me about you.”

“Oh.” Spencer doesn't know what to say, thankfully, he doesn't have to because he carries on.

“You two have kind of a system going on, right?”

“A- a system?”

The clerk's polite smile widened into a smirk. “Well, yes.” He says slowly. “You order the same thing and they make you an entire difference drink, isn't that it? They explained it and that's how I got it.”

“Uh, yes. I think so. But you don't have to—”

Your coworker waves him off, “I was just making sure you were the guy, really. They left a special order for you in case you appeared while they were still sick.” Spencer's concern is visible through his face. “Sore throat, I asked them to stay at home this week. You know, they don't care about day-offs so I forced it upon them to have it either way since they're sick. Really stubborn, that one. I'm Tim, by the way."

“Spencer.” He gave a little wave while introducing himself and was quick to add. “Are they okay?”

Tim turned to look at him in the middle of the beverage making. He nodded. “Yes, they'll be back in a day or two. Nothing serious.”

Spencer lets out a sigh in relief, leaning against the counter to wait for this order to be ready. He hopes you get better soon and that you were taking proper care of yourself. If he knew, he would have brought some jell-o and mint tea, they are great remedies to soothe a sore throat. After he paid for his surprise drink, he sat down on a table outside, there wasn't a lot of people and he enjoyed his alone time while mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

Maybe if he had gotten your number, he could ask how you were. But he didn't because Spencer doesn't think. He doesn't have game as Derek says, whatever that means. It's not his fault that he can't think straight around pretty people, is it? He can't help it!

He left the café that day with another great drink to add to his list and his mind set on one thing: he's going to ask for your phone number next time he sees you.

──────────────

Every person in the whole freaking world decided to appear at Enchanted Brewing today. Nothing wrong with people. You love people, really!

But your back is aching and your hand is cramping from how much you used the hand mixer. God, you needed to lay down for a month and wake up maybe never.

A costumer just left and you finally turn the sign to closed. Thank god. You're finishing cleaning up the tables when you notice the silence. Being around people all day long can be a little exhausting, especially if you have to yell a name in order for someone to pick their order. Your recently recovered sore throat does not appreciate that.

You're alone tonight. Tim left early to run some errands and you're in charge of closing. You don't mind, it's actually peaceful to close the shop and make your way home. You don't live far and the streets aren't too busy nor totally empty.

Boy genius didn't show up again.

You know his job is demanding, he's occupied being a hero and using his brain to solve difficult cases and catch bad guys. You feel bad complaining about your work, knowing what he does. He must get exhausted daily.

You miss him. And it's weird, you're not one to get attached easily. To be able to call Tim your friend took about half a year, you just don't trust people fast. Spencer just feels different. He makes you feel comfortable, despite not having the experience of hanging out with him outside of your work, he's that kind of person that has a safe ambience all over him. You could be wrong, you're aware of that, you don't really know the guy. He's a regular, he loves your surprise coffees, he's got a cute smile and an awkwardness that is endearing. You don't know more than that, but you'd really like to.

After placing your uniform in your assigned locker, you check one more time to see if everything is in place before leaving.

The doorbell scares the shit out of you and you grab the first thing you see to defend yourself, which is your phone.

It's closed. You turned the sign. The lights are off. Who the fuck is entering a coffee shop when all of the lights are off?!

“Uh, what... Why are you threatening to throw your phone at me?”

And there it is, the man you cannot stop thinking about materialising in front of you. Not a burglar.

Your shoulders slump in relief and you lower your phone back to the counter. “Fuck, genius. Don't do that. Why do you always ignore the closed sign?”

“Sorry,” he responded, bashfully, realising how the situation came out. “I saw you were inside and I just came in, didn't thought it through.”

“Mm. You scared the shit out of me.” A soft smile formed on your lips and it soon became a wide grin. “God, you're so...”

“Annoying?” he offers, grimacing as he buries his hand on his overcoat. Both his cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink, reminding you of how cold it is outside. “Sorry, I'll just— I'll leave you be.” The regret on his features is what puts you out of your dazed stare.

You sprint over to the door, blocking his exit. “I didn't say that.” You let out with bated breath. He halts right in front of you, big doe eyes staring down at you in surprise and you're beaming at him again. “You could never be annoying, boy genius. I was about to say amazing, actually.”

Morgan and Penelope are two people that keep making his life miserable by the amount of nicknames they make up for him. But this one? This one he doesn't complain at all. Boy genius. You could call him that every day and he would never dare be annoyed by it. The reason is because he loves your voice — which he realised it's a bit hoarse right now — but that's besides the point.

That is a nickname he missed dearly.

Were they about to call me amazing?

“I have a confession to make.” Emily is one hundred percent right when she said his IQ is slashed to 60 while around pretty people, because now that he's seen you he can't seem to remember what he came here for. “I betrayed you.”

You raise a brow, surveying him with amusement. “Oh?”

“Yes. I, I ordered a caramel macchiato on a cafeteria in Fairbanks.” He elaborated, lifting his hand to brush his hair behind his ear. You wanted to find out if it was as soft as it looked. “It wasn't good. I don't know, it wasn't the way you made so I didn't— I didn't though it was good.”

Your chest swells for a reason you're not sure.

“What I'm trying to say is that... Your coffee is better. No. It's not actually that—”

“Breathe. You're turning red like a tomato.”

That made him impossibly redder. He pushed his glasses up his nose, swallowing hard.

“Spencer,” you say, dropping your flirty facade in fear of him combusting in front of you. You nudge your finger against his hand, timidly. “I won't bite. You can talk to me.”

“Okay.” He croaks out, playing with your fingertips. And without looking directly at you, he lets out a sigh to muster some courage and says, “I like you.” He manages to say, pretending as if the way you said his name didn't affect him that much. You're smiling at him and suddenly he's fourteen again with butterflies in his stomach because his first crush just greeted him in class.

“I like you too,” you confess in a whisper. You're too close yet so far.

Spencer shakes his head, lifting his gaze to yours since he was staring at your hands. “Not like that. Not in a I like-your-coffee-and-your-flirting kind of way.”

You fear you're misunderstanding him and you don't want to make a fool out of yourself, so you remain quiet, getting lost in the twinkle in his brown eyes provided by the street lamp outside.

“I like you in a... I-want-to-spend-more-time-with-you way.” Finally, he says it. Could he have explained it better? Yes. Is he able to do it? Not with you looking at him like that. “I-Mm, I mean, I love your company and spending time here but I would like to take you on a date.” You were supposed to ask for her number first! What are you doing, you idiot?! “If you want to, of course.”

You can't hold back the giant grin taking over your features. “Boy genius,” you drawl out, doing what you've been fantasizing from the first moment you've seen him: touch his hair. You pull a stubborn strand behind his ear and from the way he almost flutters his eyes shut and leans into your touch, you assume he likes it. “When I said that I liked you, I didn't mean as a favourite-cute-costumer-of-the-month kind of way. But in an I-think-he's-cute way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. Preferably, somewhere where we don't drink coffee.”

The crinkles around his eyes show up as he chuckles, nodding. “Okay, yeah, we can definitely do that.”

“Cool.” And you can't stop smiling like an idiot.

Spencer not only got the number but a date with the cute barista. He'd say that's very cool.

#reader insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #requested #spencer reid fluff #this is the fluffiest shit I've ever written #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine

217 notes · View notes

blooberrytea · 4 months

Text

Connections

Pt: 1 2 3 4

Summary: Set in post-revolution Detroit, You've been assigned to the recently developed Android Crimes Division; and it's already off to a rough start.

Pairing: Connor x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Mildly gorey description of a body, slow burn oops

There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world that could make this morning any more bearable. Connor and RK900's bickering was usually something you could handle, but after the night you just had– your nerves were shot to say the least.

“You state that you are ‘better’ than me in every comparison. I feel that’s just unlikely.”

You ignored the two androids, making a beeline for the break room. The coffee, as perusal, was lukewarm and honestly it could’ve been enough to break you. Your night had been seemingly uneventful– spent looking over casefiles and drinking some cheap wine you’d picked up at the grocery store.

It was around 2 in the morning when a new file appeared on your laptop.

It wasn’t from the station, that you were sure about. It was just suddenly there in your personal drive, its only announcement the notification in the bottom right: “ Local Disc (C:): Unknown File “

“What the fuck…” You murmured, your cursor hovering over the new icon. It was dated only a few days ago and it wasn’t very large. Your gut told you to wait until the morning and have Connor look it over.

You tapped twice on the touchpad and watched as the contents within the folder began to load in– A series of unnamed images and a single text document. That wasn’t eerie at all.

You sucked in a breath before opening one of the images, the clicking of the touchpad one of the only noises in the apartment. Saying that you felt sick to your stomach would be an understatement.

“Long night?”

You looked up from the coffee pot, eyes landing on Gavin Reed.

“Didn’t know you were capable of being here so early.” You grumbled, “Are you responsible for this gross, cold coffee?”

Gavin snorted, “Do you not know how to work this thing? It’s ridiculously easy to make a pot of coffee these days.”

To be honest, you’d never messed with the machines in the precinct– They were slightly more techy than the one you had at home. You usually brought a cup with you, but you’d downed it before you’d even made it halfway to the station.

The detective nudged you out of the way before placing the empty pot in the machine and pressing a few buttons.

“If this police business doesn’t work out, you should consider being a barista.” You teased.

Gavin glared at you as he pressed a mug into your hand, warmth flooding through your fingers and up your arms.

“You can get your own cream and sugar.”

You gasped and pressed your hand to your chest, feigning heartbreak as the detective walked away.

“Not only am I faster, stronger, and more resilient, but I’m equipped with the newest technology. Perhaps your analytical program is outdated as well.”

You saw Connor’s LED spin red as you approached, taking a very long sip of your freshly brewed coffee.

“What if– And hear me out; You didn’t argue like children today?” You mumbled around your mug.

“I’m not equipped with an ‘argumentative child’ program.”

If you had an LED it would be red too.

“Anyway,” You started, drawing out the syllables, and setting your mug on Connor’s desk, “Can you pull up the most recent case assigned to us? Should be about an android found down at the docks. The one on Lakeside.”

“That one’s new.” You nodded, pushing fingers through your hair as you sighed, “Yeah. Got assigned early this morning.”

With Hank back on human homicide, you had been assigned to the new android crimes division. The Lieutenant wasn’t particularly happy about Connor being reassigned to your team, but he understood. You on the other hand didn’t quite understand Fowler's reasoning for splitting up the two. Before the revolution you had worked briefly on the deviancy cases, assisting Hank and Connor when they met a dead end or just making their late night coffee runs while they mulled over case after case.

You thought they’d worked well together, more so when Connor loosened up. You supposed Hank was just too valuable in the human department.

Connor pulled up the file on his computer, you and RK900 crowding around the desk to get a better look. You knew they were humoring you by pulling it up on the desktop, when they easily could’ve scanned it in their heads.

“This file is practically empty. They don’t have any leads?”

You shook your head, “Barely anything. It’s also hard to place how old the body is because androids don’t decay like humans do. I was hoping you’d be able to scan him and get us some more info.”

“I supposed we’d better get going then, hm?”

Upon arriving at the docks, you found it blocked off with the digital, yellow tape. A few police cars were parked along the street and several officers stood around the scene.

“Chris!” You called, “Any witnesses?”

The officer turned to meet you, giving a shake of his head. “It’s sorta creepy how this crime went without a hitch. The android’s too damaged to even reactivate or make an attempt to access his memories.”

You let out a deep sigh as you slipped past officers, “He’s over here?”

Chris nodded.

The sight before you made you feel just as sick as last night. An android dangled over the side of the dock, ropes around each wrist and tied to the railing; his body half dangling in the water. Not only did the physical damage render him incapable of reactivation, but the water damage totally scrambled all his wiring too.

“Fuck..” You breathed out.

Brief pressure on the small of your back drew you from your thoughts, you barely had time to register Connors hand before it was gone.

“Hey, don’t get too far in your head. We’ll find a connection.”

You shook your hands out and gave him a small nod, “Notice anything?”

“The body is approximately two days old. But he’s only been here since last night.”

“How can you tell?”

“My scan gave me details about the water damage. If we replaced a few biocomponents back at the station, we may be able to reactivate him.”

RK900 suddenly appeared at your side, crossing his arms over his chest as he also scanned the android. You watched as his LED spun yellow.

“Reactivation could be possible, but it’d be for less than a minute if everything.”

A minute was better than nothing. A minute had the potential to provide you with a lead, a witness, anything.

Especially if one of them could interface and access the android’s memories.

#detroit become human #dbh #connor rk800 #rk900 #gavin reed #hank anderson #connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #fanfic #dbh fanfic #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #bloo connections

197 notes · View notes

lechemoon · 1 year

Text

the one where you get spencer coffee every wednesday

spencer reid x f reader

wc: 779

mentions of: coffee, possibly being allergic to caffeine, a scone

emily notices that you tend to get spencer coffee every wednesday morning.

a/n: fun little writing sprint i did during my freetime :) not edited, but i wanted to get some juices flowing since it's been awhile. just a cute little something!

“good morning, spencer! i got you coffee- extra sugar,” emily sings using a high-pitched voice, walking towards spencer’s desk empty handed with no coffee in sight. she has a knowing grin on her face and wiggles her body in a way that says she’s giddy and excited.

for what? he has no idea- it’s too early in the morning for emily to be excited, he thinks to himself. but he smiles back at her anyway, looking up from the knick-knack he was toying with on his desk. it helps his brain turn on before he actually started some real work. he quite liked it.

“and good morning to you, too,” he says, keeping that same smile on his face but looking confused. so he says, “i’m confused? you said you got me coffee but-”

“well, i didn’t get you coffee,” emily begins to explain, wheeling the chair closest to her so that she may take a seat next to spencer, leaning on the back of the chair to keep her supported. “but we all know someone likes to get you coffee every wednesday on their way to work.” the grin never leaves her face, and her words are laced with light teasing that spencer barely catches.

he purses his lips together to pout in an attempt to keep his smile from growing. “what? no,” he denies, shaking his head and twiddling his fingers together. “that’s not– i-it’s probably just a coincidence that it happens on a wednesday. she’s only brought me coffee twice,” he recalls erroneously on purpose.

emily winks at him and gives a knowing nod. “sure, spence. only twice ever. not every wednesday for the past 4 weeks.”

his brows knit together at her, and he nods back. “only twice- i’ve never asked her to get me anything. and she probably won’t get me any today-”

she looks down at his desk, and quickly looks back up to stare at him. “well if she isn’t going to get you any coffee today, why didn’t you make yourself a cup in the kitchenette?”

when his eyes go wide like a deer caught in headlights, emily know’s she’s got him.

spencer opens his mouth to begin explaining, his brain racking for a reasonable explanation. he was waiting to drink coffee. he was quitting caffeine. he had coffee before work. he’s suddenly allergic to coffee, deathly allergic, so he needs to stop immediately. he found out he was allergic last night, actually. “i-if you,” he clears his throat, buying himself more time to think. “if you must know, i-”

and before he could finish his excuse, they hear the door swing open. they both hear the footsteps of a newcomer, followed by a bright and shining, “hi, spencer! i brought you some coffee- extra sugar.”

both emily and spencer turn their heads and greet you with a smile. but you miss the way emily smirks at spencer before that. “i was spot-on,” emily whispers, taking the opportunity to gloat before you’re in earshot. lucky for spencer, you’ve stopped at your desk first to put your things away.

“shut up,” he mutters back, but he can’t stop the redness from hitting his ears. “and you actually weren’t spot on- she said hi, not good morning.”

when you make your way to them, spencer stands and greets you with another smile. “thank you for the coffee. uhm, how much do i owe you…?” he asks, trailing off. he didn’t ask for coffee, but he doesn’t think anything is free.

you look at him confused, tilting your head. “you don’t owe me for the coffee? i got it because i thought of you.” you smile then, close-lipped and cheeky. “oh! wait,” you rush back to your desk, grabbing a small paper bag from your work bag.

making your way back, you stop by the chair emily sits and place the bag on her lap. “the scone you asked for, my friend.”

emily says your name like you’re an angel sent from above. “you’re the best,” she says, reaching into the bag and taking the scone out a little less than half way. “oh shoot. i need a napkin. spence, would you be so kind and grab me a napkin or two?”

with the cup of coffee in his hands, he nods and takes his leave. and when he does, you ask, “is it working? am i charming him? is the coffee a good start?”

“oh, it’s definitely working,” emily confirms. “i asked him about the coffee’s you’ve been getting him. he got flustered and lied about how many times you’ve gotten him coffee. but i know how many times,” she states. “i’ve counted.”

a/n: thank you for reading!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #my fics

496 notes · View notes

bogunicorn · 10 months

Text

Inquisition companion coffee orders and how they'd be at a coffee shop, based on the less than a year I spent working at fake starbucks many years ago. In a different order than my last post, just for the hell of it. Some of these are based on real customers that I still remember. I wrote this at 5am when I was high and unable to sleep so keep that in mind if you think I'm wrong. I'm not wrong but you should keep it in mind. H'kay let's go

Josephine: large americano, extra shots, cream and sugar and sometimes a shot of a seasonal flavor if it's a special day. She comes in twice a day, she tips, and the baristas are all trying to figure out how she hasn't had a heart attack yet from having that much caffeine every day. Staff knows her name and likes her.

Dorian: Iced white chocolate mocha. It's the only thing he gets. He will not drink it hot. He will not try a different flavor. He shows up in the morning and orders two, one with ice and one without, and be puts the one without ice in the fridge to drink later. Staff knows him on sight, but they make him state his order every day as if they don't because he doesn't tip.

Varric: regular brewed coffee, but he likes to hang out at the cafe, work on his books, meet with people, etc. He's really nice, he over tips, and sometimes the staff "forgets" to charge him for a refill. He also orders whatever food they're running out of because he figures that means it's popular and therefore good.

Solas: Decaf brewed coffee, and then he puts a disgusting amount of sugar and cream into it. He actually hates coffee and refuses to drink caffeine, but he doesn't come for the drinks, he comes to people watch and do life drawings. He needs the coffee so he has a purchase that can reasonably last him hours before he's expected to spend more money, and hot coffee won't leave condensation on the table and get his paper wet. Staff knows him and their advice to each other is not to ask him questions because he will answer you, at length, in great detail, if it's something he knows about. But he occasionally just puts a couple 20s in the tip jar, so they've decided he's cool but kind of a weird nerd.

Blackwall: Seems like he'd be a "just a NORMAL COFFEE" kind of guy, but he's actually one of the staff's favorite customers. He's some kind of blue collar worker who comes in on the way to work and on the way home, and he gets the same thing every day: regular hot latte in the morning, decaf hot latte at night. He's always there at rush times, but he's polite and he tips even when service is crowded and messy. The baristas start making his coffee when we walks in the door if they notice him, so he rarely has to wait, but he seems flattered and grateful every time.

Sera: Her order is different every time she comes in and it's always something all fucked up and weird. Half the time she just shows them a screenshot on her phone of some complicated meme recipe from TikTok, or she wants whatever technicolor monstrosity frappuccino that's on special. The staff dreads her order, but she also has a habit of getting belligerent with customers who give the staff a hard time, so they're pretty sure Sera is like a part time security guard who demands meme drinks in payment. They're allowed to complain about her if they want, but they'll malicious compliance the fuck out or anyone else who does.

Iron Bull: He doesn't have a single go-to order, but he's nice and likes to ask the staff for recommendations if it's not too busy and lets them test new recipes on him. He always tries the seasonal flavors at least once. Sometimes he comes in with a group of friends who look like trouble on first glance, but Bull pays for them all at once, doesn't let them order blended drinks, and always makes sure they clean up after themselves, so it's okay.

Cullen: Just a NORMAL COFFEE. He's totally overwhelmed by the amount of choices, but this is the closest place to his office and getting out to buy coffee is his excuse to take a break and stretch his legs. The staff knows him and actually responds to "just a normal coffew" because it's too much trouble to interrogate him about which roast or what size cup, because last time he said, "I don't know, something dark? Whatever has the most caffeine in just a regular size to go cup." He's been drinking a medium blonde roast for years and still doesn't know what blonde roast is, save that he thinks he doesn't like it.

Leliana: Two shots of espresso over ice. Leliana had shit to do and she needs that caffeine in her body as fast as possible. The ice is there to keep her from burning her mouth off. She drinks it like it's whiskey and throws out her cup without even breaking stride.

Cole: Year round pumpkin spiced latte. If they're out of the syrup, he gets the cheapest thing on the menu, no add ins, and then doesn't drink it. He rarely comes in on his own; Cole is usually there with a friend and is aware that it's rude to be there without buying, but the pumpkin spice is the only thing he actually likes. He's polite but he creeps out the other customers with his thousand yard stare.

Cassandra: London Fog, but she never remembers what it's called. She drinks it because she wasn't sure and someone recommended it, but the name just will not stick in her head. She orders it as "hot Earl Grey tea with milk", she listens every time they say "okay, so a London Fog", but by the next time she's in she's forgotten. It's not really a big deal, though, she seems pretty overworked. At this point the staff would be sad if she did remember, honestly.

Vivienne: "The Usual". Literally only one barista knows her order, because it's some customized thing that that specific barista made for her once ages ago. Viv knows what's it in but she will not tell you because she doesn't trust anyone but that one barista to make it. If her regular person isn't around, she just gets a hot latte with sugar free vanilla. That one barista also won't tell you what's in it, but that's because Vivienne tips them directly instead of in the jar and they don't want to ruin a good thing.

**also if you like this and think "i'm gonna give this fine person a follow because they're so funny about dragon age", i made a new DA sideblog at @skyholdstarbucks where i'd post anything similar to this in the future

#bog post #i need a dedicated tag for these if I'm gonna keep doing them #dragon age #dai #cullen rutherford #leliana #josephine montilyet #cassandra pentaghast #blackwall #the iron bull #varric tethras #sera #cole #solas #vivienne de fer #dorian pavus #da headcanons

268 notes · View notes

paloma-ascends-into-hellfire · 3 months

Text

eating disorder harm reduction

no one ever compiled this so that it what we are doing today. for people with eds and people whose loved ones do. please note: i’m not a doctor. this is a compilation of things from books and ed resource sites.

for people whose loved ones have an eating disorder:

try to make sure they know these things.

try not to force them to eat, they might feel uncomfortable eating in front of people. also, risk of refeeding syndrome.

if their life is in danger and you are seeking help for them, consult the person beforehand to make sure they will be safe and give them a heads-up so that they aren’t startled (especially if they’re neurodivergent! giving them notice will aid control!)

offer them ways of controlling things aside from food - practice consent, include them in conversations, don’t talk about them behind their back, compliment their makeup or hair.

be patient. the person may be irritable from lack of sleep, feelings of depression, worthlessness, etc., or malnutrition.

keep in mind that you can’t tell if someone has an eating disorder by looking at them. people of all weights do - only 17% of anorexics are underweight - and also, men and non binary people can also have eds.

general:

drink lots of water, especially if you’re drinking lots of caffeine.

drink some electrolytes at least once a week - gatorade, electrolyte tablets, coconut water, doesn’t matter, just get it into your system.

if you are getting dizzy or flushed and can feel your heart beating, quick carbs will raise your blood sugar - sweets, bread, fruit, juice, non diet soda, whatever. keep snacks around pls.

your brain uses 400-500 calories daily. eat more than this.

take your supplements!

you still need protein, have an egg or something.

don’t take adderal or insulin unless you are actually diabetic or neurodivergent, because you are raising the price by buying them and denying access to those who need it.

throw a towel over the mirror. it’s not worth it if it’ll cause you anxiety.

try to limit disordered behaviours like body checking, purging, and weigh ins.

practice good dental hygiene.

put your scale somewhere where you have to actively look for it to weigh yourself.

avoid social media and for your sake don’t go on pro ed tiktok or tumblr or twitter or insta.

get a buddy who also struggles with the same thing if possible to support each other.

get regular medical check ups (if you can afford it)

practice things within your control - makeup, hair, clothing, etc.

push your rules - eat 5 minutes before your time, or 50 calories over your limit.

for people with restrictive disorders (e.g. anorexia):

do weight and resistance training at least twice a week to prevent musculoskeletal conditions such as osteoporosis.

don’t drink on an empty stomach.

try to put gaps between fasting periods.

don’t fast for more than 72 hours.

wear lots of layers to keep warm.

eat an extra 100-200 calories on your period if you menstruate.

have a metabolism day.

take care of your hair.

as horrifying as this is to many people, please go to the hospital if you’re experiencing heart problems or if you’re passing out for more than 30 seconds.

for people with purging disorders (e.g. bulimia):

if you would like to purge, wait 15 minutes first.

after purging: drink lots of water - the emptiness you feel is dehydration. don’t brush your teeth but rinse your mouth out, preferably with an alkaline mouthwash or baking soda mixed into water. do something you want to do, like reading a book or watching a show. don’t smoke. don’t have anything acidic. eat a banana or some chocolate or a rice cake to keep your blood sugar levels in check.

if you vomit blood or your vomit looks like coffee grounds, this is a sign of internal bleeding. you could be drowning in your own blood from a hole in your esophagus, essentially. go to the hospital or call 911/999/the emergency number in your area.

stay safe everyone. i hope this helps. also, i do not use these tags - i have them blocked - but i am using them so that people on these tags will find this because they need it most.

#ed harm reduction #harm reduction #ed recovery #pro recovery #notpro4n4 #tw eating disorders #tw ed not ed sheeren #pro a4a #ana trigger #ana rant #tw anorexia #tw bulimia #anamia #⭐️ving #edhr

67 notes · View notes

norah-posts · 9 months

Text

Coffee and Weapons

Simon Ghost Riley x singlemom!barista!fem!reader

Summary: You own a coffee shop near the military base. Your coffee shop is always full of with soldiers, but that Lieutenant, who always wears a skull-patterned balaclava, grabs your attention. You try to talk with him, but he doesn't seem friendly, always gives short replies and never spends too much time in your shop. Until that day when Ghost finally starts to talk with you.

NSFW - minimal use of y/n, strangers to lovers, Ghost and reader are in early 30's, flirting, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v (unprotected), pet names, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex

Chapter 1/2/

Wc: 2k

Chapter 1: The flirty Lieutenant

The coffee shop was always full of with soldiers. The air was filled with talks, laughs, cups clinked on the table, the coffe machine hummed, the air was full of with the smell of fresh caffeine.

Simon Ghost Riley stepped in, headed towards the counter, where you stood behind it, scrolling on your phone and he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"What can I get for you?" You looked up at him, smiling.

"Just a black coffee, thanks." Simon said in a gruff voice, pulling out his wallet.

He was sporting his usual all-black attire and his trademark skull-patterned balaclava, dark red sunglasses, which he never seemed to take off, even when indoors. His cold and ruthless demeanor always seemed to have a sort of mistique about it.

"Espresso?" You asked back while you turned to the coffe maker, showing your back to him.

"Espresso." Simon nodded, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He was never a big talker, but he always got straight to the point.

He always ordered an espresso, you knew that, but you couldn't hold back your opinion about it. "As always." You muttered under your breath as you pull out a cup.

"Excuse me?" Simon asked in a stern voice, raising an eyebrow beneath his balaclava at you. "Why do you say that?"

"You always order this." You replied, giving your attention to his coffe. "You always look like who are in rush. Espresso, swallow it all and go!" You chuckled on your own joke, and turned to him with his cup of coffee.

Simon gave you a wry smile beneath his balaclava. "You're not so far off, I guess." He handed over the money for the drink. As he does so, you caught a glimpse of his elaborated tattoo on his forearm.

"Did it hurt?" You asked as you took away the money what he gave to you for the coffee.

"The tattoos? Nah, no worse than getting a papercut." He replied in a nonchalant tone, and looked at you curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Just interested." You shrugged and turned back to the coffee maker, making a cup for yourself. While you put sugar in the cup, you continued. "A papercut can hurt. Last week I cut my finger with a paper and it hurted so much." You stepped back at the counter, leaning on it, closer to Simon. "You're a liar." You smirked at him.

"Not a total lie." Ghost voice was still nonchalant and monotone as rolled up his maska little, showing his pink lips and took his coffe, gave it a small sip. After a moment, he set up the cup down and met your gaze. "You cut your finger with a paper? Really?" He asked, tilted his head slightly. "You must have really soft finger," he added with a smirk.

"The paper was strong." You corrected him and looked down at your fingers. You saw on the corner of your eyes, Ghost did the same, watching your hands what were more smaller than his.

For your suprise, Simon took his gloved hand next to you, flexing his large, masculine hand. His fingers were easily twice the size of yours.

"But seriously, cut yourself with a paper?" Simon continued. "What did you do?"

"I opened an envelope with my finger." You shrugged and raised an eyebrow, when Simon snickered on it.

"You used your bare fingers to open an envelope?" He asked with a teasing tone. "Don't tell me you don't have scissors in here." He added, taking a slightly large sip of coffee.

"I didn't find it." You admitted, and Simon burst out in a loud laugh, getting the soldiers's attention in the coffe shop. "Okay, it isn't so funny."

You saw the faint flutter of smile passed across Simon's features as you rolled your eyes at him. It was only lasts for a moment, however, before he returned to his usual serious expression.

Simon put the coffe cup down on the counter and leaned closer to you. "You know, for a place called coffee shop, they don't serve a very good cup of coffee." He said softly, his voice suprisingly gentle.

"You didn't like my coffe?" You asked back in the same tone, leaning closer to him. You tried to look into his eyes, but his dark red sunglasses made this harder. You could see only yourself in it, but you felt Simon's gaze on you.

Simon gave a slights shrug as if to say, "It was okay" and then leaned in even closer, you could smell his scent. "What's your name?" He asked softly, his voice even gentler than before.

"Why do you want to know my name?" You asked back teasingly.

Simon chuckled slightly, "I just thought it was proper etiquette," he replied in a mild tone. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." He whispered.

Something about the way he looked at you through his glasses, so close, made your stomach do a tiny flips. "I know your name." You whispered, and then pull back a little as you saw somebody walked away behind Simon. You almost forgot there were people around you and him.

"You do?" Simons asked in a hushed voice.

"I heard about you from the guests." You nodded, still leaning on the counter, but a little further from him. "They talked about a big guy with skull-patterned balaclava." You said as you looked up and down on his half-masked face. "You're Lieutenant. Simon Ghost Riley, who is hiding his face with the balaclava all the time."

As you spoke, Simon could feel his cheek getting warmer and warmer under his balaclava. He didn't expect it, he saw you a few times here, but never imagined you knew who was he.

He was leaning closer to you until his lips were mere inches from your ear and whispered, "Nobody knows about it, but right underneath this balaclava, I have cute dimples."

You tilted your head down as you laughed softly. 'I'll keep your secret." You giggled and looked up at him. You smiled at him, your cheeks were still flushed, when he pulled back, resting his arms on the counter.

"Good." Simon said, not even trying to hide his smirk. "What was your name again? I forgot." He added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You told him your name and extended your arm to him for a shake with his gloved hand. Ghost seemed slightly confused as you mention your name. He repeated it back softly, glancing down at your extended hand and then back up at your face. He gave a soft smile, 'It's a lovely name." And after a moment's hesitation, he took your hand and shook it as softly as he can, despite his gloved hand.

That was the moment when Simon noticed the soldiers were whispering amongst themselves, trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." You nodded with a shy smile on your face and pull back your hand from his. You noticed the whispers too, you felt their eyes all over you and him and Simon saw it.

Quickly he put on a more stern expression. "So..." Simon said, glancing at his watch. "I gotta get going, but..." He paused for a moment, hesitating over his next words. "Can I... get your number?"

You nodded as quickly as you can while you put out a small paper and a pen to write down your number on it. Finally, he spotted you! You were at half way with your number, when a soldier stepped to you and Simon."Excuse me! Can I get a coffee?"

Work is first. "Sure." You nodded, putting down the pen and turned to the coffe machine. Simon stood there for a few moments, watching you served the guest. The soldier left, and came another and another. Simon's brow is furrowed and he seemed frustrated, wondering how the soldiers dared to cut into his conversation like that with you.

But then he realized that that was what you do at a coffee shop, you serve to the customers. Simon sighed, turned and headed for the door without saying another word.

---

On the next morning Simon entered the coffee sop as he did every day, his expression unchanged as he looked around for you. Seeing that you were alone, behind the counter, Simon headed over to you, still wearing his sunglasses and balaclava, as if that was his normal mode of operation.

"Morning." He said softly, smiling slightly after he rolled up his balaclava above his mouth.

The soldiers who were sitting at the tables in the far corner looked forward you both for a moment, a brief flicker of recognition passed over their faces.

"Good morning!" You greeted him. "Let me guess! Espresso?" You asked with a grin.

Simon chuckled. "Yeah, you know me too well," he said, taking out his wallet to pay for his drink. He leaned forward slightly to get a better view of you while you maked his coffe. "You're working the morning shift again, huh?" he asked in a slightly husky voice.

The soldiers by the wall were listening closely to your conversation, their eyebrows raised slightly. They never heard their Lieutenant speaking like this!

"I'm the owner of this coffe shop." You replied proudly as you were waiting for the coffee machine to finishing the pouring into the cup.

Simon looked at you in suprise, "You own this place?" he asked in a tone that's slightly different from the one what he used with the soldiers. It almost sounded as if he was impressed. "Wait, does that mean I've been flirting with the coffe shop owner this whole time?" Simon asked with a wry smile.

"Was that flirt?" You asked back teasingly and put down a cup of coffe on the counter in front of Simon.

Simon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "Oh yeah," he replied in a soft tone. "And I intend to keep on doing it." As he stared at you, you noticed he was smiling.

"I don't give discounts, sorry," you chuckled on your own joke. "Especially not when I don't see my flirty Lieutenant's eyes." You glanced at his sunglasses, what hid his eyes.

Simon smirked, "Don't worry, you don't need to give discount for me to drop by here each day to see you." And he reached a hand to his sunglasses and carefully removed them, revealing his piercing brown eyes. He smiled at you once more, but this time it was a genuine one. "Better?"

You admired his eyes. "Much better." You nodded and Simon continued to look at you with a slight smile as he put down his sunglasses on the counter in front of you.

The soldiers nearby looked on with mild interest, but something about the tone of their gossip now seemed different... Simon, however, was still focused solely on you. Just the two of you, alone at the counter.

"The soldiers..." You started in a whisper as you leaned closer to Simon and looked around for a moment. "They're always like this? I mean, I feel myself like a teenage girl in the high school."

Simon chuckled softly, "Oh, you're right about that," he says with a smirk as he looked around at the soldiers. "We're all gossiping little teenage girls, just in grown men's bodies." Then he smiled again, looking directly at you. "Do you have idea what they're saying?" He asked softly.

"Probably they're talking about us," you said.

"Exactly," Simon replied with a nother soft smile. "But what do you think what they're talking about us?" He added, the slightest hint of nervousness in his voice as he waited for your answer.

"Maybe they're talking about we're... fucking with each other?"

"Maybe," he said in a playful tone. "But I think... We'll never know." He reached for his coffee cup and drank all of it with one swallow, then he glanced at his watch and smiled. "I better get going." He said as he put down the cup on the counter, but before he turned away from you, he whispered. "Maybe we can pick this conversation up after work?"

"I'll be here." You smiled. "You know, I'm the boss."

Simon laughed softly and gave a small nod. "Yeah, I know." He replied and left the coffee shop.

------

Chapter 2 ... here ...

115 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

Promptober: Day Thirty

Eddie Munson x fem!reader 742 words.

Eddie didn’t drink coffee. He never really got the taste for it, and honestly? Caffeine was the last thing he needed in his system. He smoked weed to chill out, wind down, to stop his leg from bouncing when he finally sat down at the end of a long day.

He didn’t need anything to keep him moving, he had enough of his own energy for that.

But when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you on a date, he was too in awe of watching the way your eyes widened and the way your lips parted in surprise, an excited kind of affection taking over your pretty features as you nodded at him shyly. He didn’t have a plan, an idea. Not really.

So when you asked him when and where, Eddie stumbled over his words and watched the way you gripped the edges of your coat and pulled it tighter around yourself, the edges of autumn seeping into town on a cold wind.

He thought of warmth, of something, somewhere cosy, somewhere quiet and in public ‘cause he didn’t wanna come off too strong and invite you back to his on the first date.

“The cafe?” He eventually offered, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jackets because he was so sure he was shaking with the adrenaline of it all. “Tomorrow? We could get coffee, I could pick you up at eleven?”

The waver in his voice levelled out at the end, because he was still watching how you were smiling, bottom lips tucked between your teeth like you were as shy and as nervous as he was. It made him feel a little better, but you yourself were a shot of espresso and his stomach tumbled every time you smiled.

He was dizzy on you. The date hadn’t even started. Eddie Munson was a sucker and when you nodded and headed back to your car, Steve snorted, clapped him on the back and told him so too.

“You don’t even drink coffee,” the other boy mentioned. “Or tea. You just gonna sit there, sip water and stare at her?”

“Shut up.”

—————

Eddie ordered a coffee, hesitantly, black with no sugar, the cup piping hot and unappealing looking next to your caramel concoction. But he was sitting across from you in a squishy armchair, cheeks pink from the wind outside and you were laughing at him, laughing with him, at something he’d said.

Your boots knocked his under the table, once, twice, until he realised it wasn’t an accident anymore and he rested his ankle against yours, beamed as you grinned, hiding your smile in your almost empty cup.

Eddie hadn’t touched his, could barely take his eyes off of you to even consider it but you’d pushed a plate towards him, cut through the largest muffin he’d ever seen and when the sticky caramel centre oozed out over the knife, he couldn’t say no when you told him to share it with you.

It’s why he shouldn’t have been surprised when you tasted so sweet when he kissed you later on, your coffee date turning into a day long event that had him reeling.

You’d taken his hand after a few hours, walking around the park as you chatted, Eddie too scared to try and make a move but you’d acted like it was no big deal, as if your small hand had been made to fit into his.

He melted when your fingers played with his rings, cheeks pink, ears hot and he realised you liked making him blush, your smile turning adorably wicked the warmer he felt.

It was Eddie that kissed you at your door though, feeling brave after all those small touches, the coy looks you’d gave him, shoulders bumping as you walked around Hawkins in the cold, red and yellow leaves at your ankles.

And when the rain started, Eddie took you home, walked you to the cover of your porch and ducked his head to press his lips to yours, only hesitating once. You tasted like coffee, like caramel and sweetness, sticky sugar and something he’d never get tired of.

After that, Eddie started drinking lattes, big mugs of it with extra syrup and milk that made the top all foamy and despite the way it made him bounce around in the mornings, too much energy with no one to waste it on but you, you never, ever complained.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #upsidedownwithsteve's promptober

439 notes · View notes

nerdieforpedro · 4 months

Text

His first drop of Sugar

A Joel Miller and Layla (OFC) story

General Audiences but my Tumblr overall is 18+

Main Masterlist/ Joel Miller Masterlist / Drops of Sugar Series

Summary: Joel Miller is a simple man. He works, takes care of his daughter, maybe meets some ladies sometimes. As he puts it "He does okay." If he was going to look seriously.

One day, he met her, the woman who'd change everything.

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, awkward flirting, attempt at humor

Notes: I wanted to revisit Joel & Layla’s story but not disturb what relationship I had already built for them. So I decided I’d do different vignettes at various points in their relationship. We’ll see where they end up.

Joel is a man of habit. He picks up his brother Tommy, drops off his daughter Sarah at school, and he and his brother go to work. After work, he goes straight home to make sure Sarah is safe in the house, relaxes with some music, a book, maybe a little whiskey. Sarah tells him he’s getting a bit old for that now that she’s almost out of high school. Thankfully for Joel, she’s sixteen which gave him a few more years before he would worry even more about her. Tommy and Sarah were concerned that he didn’t have enough in his life, Joel always waved them off.

“I’m fine. I got all I need with you two.”

“I mean, if I was gonna look, I’d do okay.”

Joel wasn’t lying when he said he could have a girlfriend if he wanted to and he did not. They usually tried to get him to leave things around his house, put pillows where they don’t belong, get him to eat some quinoa (no one needs to eat that, he was a potatoes or rice type of man), buy different clothes for him and even suggested different ways to parent his daughter. Mentioning anything about Sarah other than that she was the sunlight of Joel’s life was grounds for him to never speak to that person again.

The elder Miller brother’s routine didn’t change until one of his employees gave him a Starbucks gift card. He didn’t think much of it and kept it in his wallet. It wasn’t until Tommy had him stop in between sites to “grab some joe and a quick bite,” that he came to taste the coffee. Joel ordered a caramel cappuccino because he could say it and he knew what was in it. He told the young lady or barista whatever milk was fine. It was his first taste and it was wonderful.

The next time Joel made sure to come without Tommy and try a different drink, he got a white chocolate mocha and was hooked on the caffeine and sweetness. Now he ordered one at least twice a week. He tried to ensure that Tommy nor his daughter Sarah knew about his Starbucks trips, but they did. Tommy had passed by a Starbucks on the way to one of their jobs in the neighborhood and he saw Joel exiting the coffee house with drink in hand happily gulping the hot beverage down. He didn’t mention it. The Younger Miller brother waited until they were in the office alone. He whipped out a photo he had taken of Joel: head craned back, cup tipped upward with the faint semblance of his lips curled into a smile.

“I caught you! I thought you said you’d never go back?! Look at this Joel. I thought you said it was too expensive.”

Joel rolled his eyes hard, he would never not hear about this from Tommy. Ugh. “I got some more coffee. What’s the big deal? You’re making it sound like I’m cheating, which it’s coffee, how does that make sense?”

“You’ve been making trips by yourself and leaving me out. Maybe I wanted some coffee too Joel, you ever think of that?”

“You mean you wanted me to buy you coffee? You’re a grown ass man. Buy your own damn coffee Tommy.” The Elder Miller brother thought for a moment. “Wait, I was at the Starbucks around 11:30 in the morning, what were you doing driving around at that time?”

Tommy shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, “What do you mean? I was on my way to Mrs. Flores house in the neighborhood. To put up her kitchen cabinets.”

Joel squinted his eyes, “Mrs. Flores said she wanted them up sooner than later. When I spoke to her earlier this week, she told me 10 in the morning. What were you doing for damn near…?” Joel already knew the answer to his own question and sighed. “You’re lucky as hell that Mrs. Flores didn’t call me and complain about you being late. You can’t do that shit for one of your…dalliances.”

Tommy snickered, “Is that what they kids are calling it these days? Dalliances? You’ve got to take the two by four out Joel. I am showing Sarah this picture of her father though.” He bounced out of the office, feeling the overall victor but when Joel finally listened to his office messages, Mrs. Flores had complained so he docked Tommy’s pay by half.

The next week was when it happened. The meeting that changed his life.

On a Tuesday, Joel stopped by Starbucks on the corner after he had smoothing things over with Mrs. Flores. Tommy was going to have to have lunch with the woman twice a week for the next two weeks in addition to the docked pay. Was it a bit much? Yes, and Joel was fine with that. He was also wanted to teach him a lesson about being on time, for every minute he was late, that was an extra five that Mrs. Flores could keep him in her house, watching telenovelas, knitting or as Tommy told him told once, ‘putting some weird peppermint cream on her feet.’ Joel decided that it served him right.

Joel ordered his usual white chocolate mocha grande and waited for it. He heard his name followed by a woman’s name rather closely but no matter. He picked up his drink at the end of the counter and sipped it, feeling the rush from the caffeine in the esspresso and tasting the chocolate, milk and whipped cream together. He had heard someone say wait, but he had his drink, that wasn’t directed toward him.

“Hey! You in the black shirt!” At this Joel finally turned, so someone had been trying to get his attention. He was annoyed though, it was during coffee time though. The scowl on his face quickly left as he saw who was calling him. A plump woman with hands on her hips, a lavender silk button down shirt not tucked in but still appeared neat. Her skirt hit just below her knees with a small slit above her left knee, exposing some of her thigh. She had a small bit of cleavage showing as his eyes trailed up and saw her silver necklace might be a cross? But she had dark red lipstick coating her full lips. Her face was round and her hair was loose and wide, it looked soft though. Her honey eyes glared at him and intensified as she made her way toward him. “Are you going to buy me another one? That mocha was mine.” She kept her hand on her hips and leaned her weight back on her right foot, looking up at him. Joel scoffed.

“Sorry darlin’ no it ain’t. This is…” He was proven wrong. The name was not his on the side. It said ‘Layla.’ “Um. Sorry about that Miss Layla. I’ll buy you another.” He watched as she exhaled and looked down, her hands now crossing her chest and pressing her breasts together. Joel blinked so he could focus on her face again, but that wasn’t much better.

“I should apologize as well. I’m sorry for raising my voice. I was just looking forward to my coffee. It gets me out of my office for a bit, away from everyone. I didn’t meant to take that out on you.” She explained and he nodded, understanding the sentiment. Joel at least had the luxury of driving to different sites, often by himself of Tommy who he could stand half the time. He can’t picture himself around people who annoyed him all the time. They walked over to the counter and Joel paid for her mocha and a brownie. He had told her it was something to sweeten her day before he found himself exiting the cafe again. He had half a mind to go back in and ask her if maybe she wanted to meet outside of the office again.

“That sounds horrible. Maybe I am out of practice. I am not asking him for advice.” Joel shook his head, he would NEVER ask Tommy for advice with women, not even on his deathbed. Turns out he didn’t have to because the same woman stepped out of the cafe and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Not sure who you don’t plan on asking for advice but I wanted to ask you something.” She began and paused. “I’m Layla to start. I figured I would make sure you knew that. Would you…oh, um.” She was floundering but pushed through, Joel let her, he wasn’t sure what to say either. “Could we meet maybe for lunch or dinner or it doesn’t have to be a meal. It could be anything. Well not…” He chuckled and she pursed her lips. “You could say something you know! You can tell I’m just saying whatever comes to mind. God I suck at this.” Layla threw her head back and sighed. Joel held her hand gently. She was startled but then smiled.

“Let’s say we exchange numbers and see what we both agree to do, Layla? Might lead to a meal or whatever else you were thinkin’ sweetheart. Name’s Joel by the way.” His rough thumb grazed the soft skin of her hand, the smile she had on her face beamed. A barista came out, calling Layla’s name to which she let go of Joel’s hand and put her index finger, signaling to give her a minute. After having the brownie and coffee handed over to her, Layla made her way back over to Joel.

“S-Sorry about that.” She set her coffee on the hood of a nearby car and went in her purse, pulling out her phone. “Yes, put in your number Joel.” Joel grinned and pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it for her, they entered their numbers in each other’s contacts and double checked the numbers by sending an initial text. Joel told her that he needed the practice per his daughter and she laughed, stating that her friends said the same for her selfies. She was easy to talk to and the single father was hopeful to hear her say his name again - her voice was calming despite the excitement it brimmed with. The snort at the tail end of her laughing fit was adorable. Joel picked up her coffee and walked Layla to her car, holding it for her as she placed her purse and brownie in the passenger’s seat being across the driver’s seat to do so. He took a step back to appreciate the view, part of him felt conflicted until she looked back with a grin. ‘Damn, shouldn’t have felt bad about it then.’ He approached her with her coffee and handed it to her, making sure to brush against her fingers.

“Send me a message when you get back to the office Sugar.” He leaned down into her open window and cocked his head to the side, laying it on a little extra thick. He hoped not too much.

“I will Joel. You can be sure of that.”

“You’re the one who said anything Layla.”

“I’m well aware.” A chuckle to herself. “Maybe we should just start with lunch so I don’t end up talking and tripping up my words again.”

“However you wanna meet darlin’.” His smirk grew into a smile.

Layla shook her head. “You’re so much trouble Joel. I can tell already.”

“Good trouble I assure you Layla. Shouldn’t you get gettin’ back to work? You might be the real trouble, you know.” He teased her, not really wanting her to leave, but he didn’t want her to associate their meeting with possible work repercussions.

“Alright, maybe not so much trouble. And I should be getting back to work. I’ll see you later Joel.” Joel stood up and watched as she pulled out of her parking space and drove off. He returned to his truck and drove back to the office where he got an angry call from Tommy about Mrs. Flores had him try on her late husband’s clothes and dance with her. Joel told him to suck it up for one more week and then he’ll be square. And not to be late, lest the elder Miller brother sends him back to Mrs. Flores house. He’ll be Ignacio for a month. In the midst of Tommy complaining for the last five minutes, he heard a small ping and took a look at his phone:

Hey there Joel, I’m safe back at work, though I don’t really want to be. I’m free most evenings and as for lunch, between 1-2 works well. I may be able to stretch it to 2:30 if I push some things until later. I’m also free on weekends. Let me know what works for you. I hope you have a good rest of your day.

Joel felt vindicated, he was not the only adult over the age of thirty that texts full sentences according to Sarah, his daughter. He made sure to text out his reply while Tommy was heard getting pulled by Mrs. Flores out of the bathroom he was calling Joel from.

Good to know you got there safely, Sugar. The evenings are for my daughter but if we plan, I can have my brother watch her for a bit while we go to dinner. Lunch is always an option and those times are perfect. You tell me where you want to go and I’ll take you there Layla.

Joel sent it and was nervous for the next few hours while he answered questions from his crew about various jobs and materials. He also drove to another site and ignored a call or two from Tommy. It was when he pulled up to the next site that she suggested they meet at ‘Brenner’s on the Bayou’ a place that Joel had eaten at years ago. It was with a different woman and she was about as interesting as paint, but the food was delicious. They agreed and the date was set for Saturday night.

Up until the date, they exchanged texts for two days until Layla called him just to say good morning and Joel damn near missed a stop sign in answering the phone before pulling off to the side of the road. He had a feeling then he’d need to see her sooner than Saturday.

Joel's Darlin's: @yorksgirl @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @guelyury @goodwithcheese @morallyinept @ilovepedro @pascalsanctuary @grogusmum @pamasaur @perotovar @pedrodascal @gwendibleywrites @marcus-is-my-muse @pedritapascal

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #Layla OFC #Drops of Sugar #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x plus size reader

38 notes · View notes

2willowlane · 6 months

Text

i've been posting silly crack fanfiction on ao3 lately, and i decided to just upload this on my tumblr. it's inspired off of interstellartoaster's kalampokiphobia: fear of corn, and the mods harvey's irrational apple hatred and harvey hates apples.

fantastic works; mind you.

gender neutral reader, sfw; not really focused on romance, as it is just absurdity

tallying his profit, of which was a big fat zero, harvey sighed; pushing up his glasses. it's been a rather long week for him, considering no one wants to buy those energy tonic muscle whatever medication that he supplies. the only time that anyone has ever purchased such a redundant item from him, was whenever they misclick- accidentally bought it; and then just sold it again. the only way that he'll ever make a good buck out of his pharmaceutical care was if he just eradicated the valley's food supply... of which, did sound tempting, but harvey loves his pickles too much to give them up.

there haven't been any appointments placed recently, so he was having a hard time trying to keep up with the expenses. right now, he could so go for a bottle of fine wine... maybe it's because he's spending too much of his expenses on plane models, rather than actually trying to keep up with all of the financial records, like an actual adult should. huh, what a foreign concept. well, he's just going to go continue complaining about his money situation, until further notice.

with the door opening, he had to them correct his shrimp posture, as he then greeted you, the almost superhuman farmer, into the clinic. normally, you just like to go behind the counter and access rooms that are off-limits to regular patients, but there was something about your gumption that made you so lovable. even if you do tend to barge into private examinations, there was something that made you feel so rebellious; that harvey couldn't help but swoon over you! also, he's a pathetic beanpole of a man, so he'll probably get pummeled into the ground by your combat prowess if he ever rejects your blatant non-filtered view of what "personal space" meant.

you were about to get some items turned into the community center; as you were carrying a basket full of assorted goods (they ranged from something simple to five highly-graded melons, a still-flopping ghostfish, and poisonous mushrooms). oh well, with the poisonous mushrooms, those are harvey's choice of decoration during the autumn seasons; so, the doctor felt rather seen whenever he saw those clumped together. he grimaced at the fish, however. other than that, he was glad to see a good friend pop in now and then; he needed something to spice up his days, and he can always expect you at around 9am, or somehow always being in the places he's trying to go to... coincidence?

normally, you'd stop on buy and get him a coffee. either you've brewed it yourself, or stopped by gus', it was coffee. you wonder how many mugs harvey has, considering you also gift him a free cup alongside the sweet, sweet ground bean liquid. it really wasn't the healthiest thing to drink due to the sugar and caffeine levels, and you were pretty worried for the guy who has been through years and years of intensive schooling to know better about those dietary concerns. you assume he probably only has a cup twice a week, considering you have some type of intergalactic force keeping you from extending that quota.

you had some apples somewhere on your person, and it was probably the only thing he'd like; you'd figure. after all, they're just funky little guys. who doesn't like a good, crisp apple? even though they're supposed to be for the community center, you can always just get one later. you'd give harvey something else, but you decided that he deserved better than just countless upon countless liters of his favourite brew. you knew harvey appreciated a good foraged, natural good—especially with someone locally grown on your acres. fishing out an apple out of your pockets, you then present it to him.

"... i think i may be allergic to this."

as harvey looked like a sad shih tzu puppy, looking off to the side, your heart sank. he was allergic to apples? at first, you really wanted to make fun of him. he seemed like the type of person who'd be allergic to peanut butter, and be the kid that doesn't allow their classmates to bring in anything homemade due to those medical reasons. holding the red delicious apple in your hands, rotating it around in your palm, you decided to test that theory.

"may?" you inquiried, and with a look of horror, harvey began to shudder. yes, he's an anxious man at heart, but due to various interesting cases at the clinic, he's grown insensitive to many things. plus, he's in front of the one and only farmer(tm), and his crush. god, what an embarrassment he is. he didn't want to talk about his irrational hatred for apples; those disgusting overblown flower ovaries called "fruit" just sicken him to death, not to mention that the apples were the first to hate HIM—it wasn't his fault that his body rejects them!

"yes, yes! just- just get it away from me!"

"i don't believe you..."

and that's where you've learnt that the phrase "an apple a day keep the doctor away" was right.

#💙#sorry guys #had to #crackfic #crack #crack taken seriously #crack treated seriously #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley #harvey stardew valley #harvey x reader #harvey x gender neutral reader #harvey stv #harvey sdv #harvey sdv x reader #harvey x player #gender neutral reader #gender neutral player

32 notes · View notes

saiyansweetheart45 · 7 months

Text

Ideas for the Coffee Shop AU

Hey, everyone! Later this month and throughout December, I'll be releasing the first chapters of my newest story idea! But for now, here's the layout for this lovely (if I do say so myself) new idea. I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

The Full Moon Brew Coffee Shop is more than just a place to get a cup of coffee. It’s a haven that offers a break from the day-to-day chaos in the city of Calatonia, presided over by one Koala Connoisseur, Buster Moon, a coffee enthusiast as well as a master showman. The Full Moon Brew is a nook of coziness and even creativity. With the air teeming with coffee and creative encouragement, it’s no wonder the place hosts such an eclectic bunch.

Up and coming rocker Ash goes there at least twice a week to get her caffeine fix, but also likes the atmosphere because it helps inspire her songwriting.

Sweet-obsessed and sass-filled Nooshy likes to busk down the road (before meeting the rest of the gang) for extra pocket money to afford her cream and sugar-loaded coffees. And it combines the two things she loves: dancing and coffee. She also enters the occasional contest held at the shop.

Then there’s introverted British newcomer Johnny who spends anywhere from half an hour to sometimes even half the day, at the place, ordering at least three cups of coffee, all while reading or writing songs as well. It’s like a haven in the new city he's moved with his family to following his dad and uncle’s being transferred for a job. Occasionally, on their lunch break, the three older gorillas stop in to get a little bite of the pastries the place offers and of course an espresso-loaded cup or two. Each. They don’t ever stick around long, but they can see why the youngest member of their clan loves the place so much.

Then, we have the equally shy Meena, whose small family business supplies the baked goods to the coffee shop, and Meena occasionally visits both to subtly network for her family’s business, and to try to become more social, since coffee shops are great for being both social and withdrawn. And she loves their smoothies, and is trying to acquire a taste for coffee, but can’t quite do it.

Enter Rosita, the on-the-go mother that does it all, but always makes some time to get a little pick-me-up for herself and do a bit of work to help her husband, for whom she always orders a special cappuccino before she heads to pick up their extensive brood of piglets.

The tea-loving theater legend Nana Noodleman happens to be one of the top investors for Buster’s shop. The place is small but makes a pretty profit, what with having fresh, homemade treats, along with beverages one can’t get just anywhere. And Buster always makes sure to keep a steady supply of fine teas at the ready for Nana. She even has a special table with a high-backed purple velvet chair by the window just beside the patio overlooking the ocean.

The excitable bundle of Piggy Power Gunter occasionally visits the shop, drawn by the musical selection and the open mic nights. Though by his own admission, he comes less for the singing and more for the dancing. And of course, a caffeine fix here and there is needed for such dedicated dancing.

Another new kid enters. Meet Ryan Collins, a student in a nearby dance academy, who happens upon the coffee shop by complete coincidence. He finds that while he doesn’t much care for coffee, he enjoys the chill atmosphere, a welcome reprieve after his hectic classes under the iron fist of Klaus Kickenklober. Plus, who doesn’t occasionally love a Toasted Vanilla or Hazelnut Steamer?

Two new faces also enter this colorful Coffee shop mix, we have the two rich kids Eddie and Porsha, both of whom are working their first jobs ever under the watchful eye of Miss Crawly. Don’t let her age and dottiness fool you, the old Lizard Lady is a brewing MASTER.

Both prove straight away to be a bit…unskilled to say the least, but they slowly start to adapt, with Porsha even scoring huge brownie points when she creates a new drink for the menu.

And finally, the dutiful, efficient, and long-suffering Suki Lane occasionally stops by the shop to get coffee for herself, but also (reluctantly) for her image-obsessed boss who doesn’t like coffee but is quick to associate himself when the little shop starts to gain more attention.

Suki herself may not particularly like Buster, but she does like the coffee. And she does secretly loathe Crystal's dismissal of it. And dismiss it he does. At least until it starts to gain more popularity, at which point he tries to buy it out. But that meeting goes as well as you'd expect.

This version of Buster has a few slightly different traits; poised, knows his worth, and won't sell himself out for a few beans. He knows why Crystal wants the business and is having none of it. First off, because he knows the price Crystal offered is insulting given the profit the place brings in. Second, and more importantly, because his father bought the property, had the building built with his own money, and personally let Buster design the place, the menu, everything. This place is a symbol of everything his dad worked for and gave him. All the while the man was hiding a terminal illness. This last project was a distraction from the inevitable. And Buster will NOT trivialize that sacrifice.

35 notes · View notes