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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Assistant Hottie

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader (implied Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason Teague, Assistant Football Coach, meets you in the faculty break lounge at Smallville High. He tries to kick you out, thinking you’re a student. Technically, you are. Turns out, you both go to the same university.

AN: So I know it’s about 20 years late, but I’ve been wanting to write some Jason Teague for a while now. There’s a very dated reference to iPods (remember this show was circa early 2000s).

Word Count: 2,600 Tags/Warnings: Implied love triangle (quadrangle?), fluff, tinge of angst, and a meet cute.

“Hey, Coach T!”

Jason turns his head, shooting Clark Kent a smile that’s just a little bit forced. He slows down in the busy hallway so the younger man can catch up.

Clark’s friends, Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang keep walking, though the brunette glances his way. Her hazel eyes catch his.

But Jason focuses on Clark, who’s coming at him with all six feet and three inches of farm boy earnestness.

Jason has City Boy Charm in his arsenal.

“What’s up, man?”

Clark smiles. “Real quick, just wanted to ask you about the drills we’re running today…”

Eighth period is about to start, meaning just another hour until school ends, and another day of practice begins on the football field. Clark takes all five minutes between classes to ask his questions about how he can better move the ball, his throwing technique, how to better communicate on plays with the rest of the guys.

As always, Jason gives Clark the best advice he has to offer. Even a few months into this job, he’s still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome. He’s only a couple of years older than the guys he’s coaching, and Clark is looking at him like he’s got all the answers.

Newsflash, champ. I don’t. Jason smiles though.

Because Clark is something else. He’s a starting quarterback of a game he’s never played before in his life. Head Coach Quigley thought it was steroids at first, but Jason had a gut feeling about the guy.

“He’s not a cheater,” he’d told Quigley. The other man had scoffed, rubbing his chin.

“Okay, Teague. If you think so,” he said. “…Make him piss in a cup anyway.”

Since then, Clark hasn’t given Jason a reason to doubt him, at least on the field.

No, his reasons for still being wary of Clark are more…personal.

“All right, we’ll workshop the rest later on the field,” Jason says, as the starting bell rings. “You’re gonna be late for class.”

“Okay, see ya later.” Clark nods and holds up a hand in goodbye. To tell the truth, Jason is a little relieved to see him go.

Instead of heading to his office, he makes a pitstop at the faculty break lounge for a cup of coffee. He could use a little pick-me-up, even if it is from a watery K-cup.

When he pushes open the door, he’s greeted by the familiar smell of stale roasted hazelnut and microwaved fish. Along with the wall-to-wall countertop and refrigerator down the end, there’s a small round table fitted with just three chairs.

Uh oh, he thinks.

You’re sitting there with a pair of earbuds in, nodding to your music while you make notes with a red pen. The contents of your messenger bag are half-strewn across the table, displaying a couple of notebooks and binders, different colored highlighters, pens, and a post-it pad.

Your back is facing him, so he has to walk around the table to get your attention. He hesitates, before he taps your shoulder. He’s never had to do this before, and he’s actually a bit nervous.

“Hey there,” he says. His lips quirk when you jolt a little. You stare up at him with wide eyes and the top of your pen resting against your lower lip.

“Uh…” You remove your ear buds and hit pause on your iPod.

“Did you get lost on the way to study hall, or you just here for the coffee?” Jason gestures to the Keurig machine on the counter. “Hate to break it to you, but that stuff’s not exactly quality joe.”

You blinked at him. “What? Um…I mean yeah, the coffee’s ass. But it is free, I guess.”

Jason tries to reign in his smile. He cards a hand through his blonde hair and taps his free hand on the table.

“Uh, are you ditching class or something?” he asks. “If it’s history, I get it. Snooze fest.”

He makes a flatlining motion with his hand. Your brows knit together in confusion…but then you brighten.

“Oh, I’m not a student,” you laugh. “But good on you for trying to lay down the law, Coach Teague.”

Now it’s Jason’s turn to be confused. “How did you know—”

You point with your red pen, over to the yellow patch emblazoned on his red polo that says: Crows Football and Assistant Coach.

“Pretty sure you’re the one the cheerleaders are calling Assistant Hottie,” you say. Your gaze is wry and a hint playful.

He lets himself smile, albeit with some embarrassment. He points at you.

“And you’re…”

“Part-time teacher’s aid,” you reply. Your hands make a frame around the stack of papers in front of you, that Jason now realizes you’re grading.

Great. His face warms a bit.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, and points to the coffee maker. “Let me just mind my business.”

He doesn’t know it, but you subtly watch him with a small smile while he goes about said business. The Keurig eventually spits out more roasted hazelnut into his Styrofoam cup.

With his prize in hand, he means to leave you in peace to head for his office, but your voice stops him.

“You can sit if you want. I need a break anyway.”

Jason can admit, at least to himself, that he’s curious. (About you.) He goes over to the table and sits down across from you. His eyes unconsciously dart over the splayed contents of your bag, and you don’t miss it.

“Sorry,” you say, as you try to reign in the mess and corral things back into your bag. “I’m kind of an organized chaos kind of girl.”

“No worries. I dabble in that philosophy myself,” he says with a grin. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, giving him your name in return.

You like his smile. His long fingers are wrapped around the steaming cup. Meanwhile, the afternoon sun is pouring in from the windows behind him. It shines golden on his hair and broad shoulders, and makes his green eyes look warm.

Those eyes glance down and focus on a familiar badge sticking out of your bag. His brows furrow.

“No way. You go to Kansas A&M?” he asks. “So do I.”

You blink at him. “What, you’re still in college?”

He laughs and leans back in his chair, blowing out a breath.

“Okay, wow! A bit rude," he says. "Just how old do you think I am?”

You bite your lip in embarrassment.

“Second thought, don’t answer that,” he quips.

“I’m sorry,” you say, through a bit of laughter. “I guess we’re both reading each other wrong today.”

Jason shakes his head and crosses his arms.

“No, no. It’s fine,” he says airily. “Lest I be any more presumptuous, can I ask what year you’re in? Major?”

You concede with a nod, but you’re still smiling too hard.

“Secondary Education. Junior year,” you say. Jason’s brows raise with his grin still in place.

“Okay, a future teacher on our hands.” He leans forward. “As it turns out, I’m actually a sophomore.”

A year below you. You bury your reddened face in your hands, though a giggle still bubbles up.

He doesn’t let you stew in your misery for long though.

“Eh, it’s okay. Don’t feel too bad,” he says. You hear the smile in his voice, and you peek out at him from between your fingers. “I’m technically a year behind. Transferred from another school so I could take this job.”

Once again, your eyes widen as your hands fall away from your face.

“Oh, yeah? I assume you play football, but I’ve never seen you on the team…”

Jason’s smile turns playfully cocky.

“I don’t play anymore, but I’ll have you know, I was on track for the NFL.”

Yeah, for about a minute, comes a dull reminder in his brain.

You rest your chin in your hand as you meet his smile. “Okay. You definitely have the face of a guy who almost went pro.”

Your voice lowers at the end there, impersonating every “dude bro” you’ve ever met who thought he could throw a ball across a field.

“I’m serious.” Jason laughs, but then his eyes dim a bit. “I played for Metropolis U. Tore my rotator cuff, and uh…that’s it. Scrubbed. Had to start over.”

You dim along with him. “That sucks ass. I’m sorry.”

He snorts, almost spilling his coffee. “You’ve certainly got a way with words.”

“But you feel better for me calling you old, don’t you?” Your pen taps on your lip, and his eyes are drawn to the gesture.

He also notices your eyes, the shape of your face, the shade of your hair, the black Fleetwood Mac shirt (with a ripped V hinting at cleavage). It doesn’t exactly scream T.A., but you’re pretty.

Beautiful, really.

He tries not to notice that too much.

“Maybe a little,” he allows. He smiles behind a sip of his drink. It’s getting cold, as he forgets to actually drink it.

“My parents sent me to college to be a lawyer,” you confess. It perks his interest with raised brows. “Like my mom, and my uncle, and his father before him, and so on.”

Jason’s smile is back. You consider that a small triumph.

“I sat in one class. Intro to Business Law.” You shudder at the memory. “Jason, I wanted to bludgeon myself with the textbook. And it wouldn’t have taken long. That thing was the size of a Dostoyevsky novel.”

Jason laughs, even though he doesn’t know who Dostoyevsky is. It does unearth a distant memory of his 12th grade English class (he barely passed that one).

“So, I decided to disappoint them,” you say ruefully.

That, he understands all too well. He raises a finger at you. “Hey, a teacher’s respectable. But I happen to be an expert at disappointed parents, so you’re in good company.”

You smile, small but genuine. Jason counts that as a win.

“What’s your major now?” you ask.

“Sports medicine,” he replies, but you both hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

Your head tilts, and your eyes soften. Not with pity, he thinks. Maybe with understanding.

“You could find something else you’re actually passionate about,” you say.

Jason bites the inside of his lip, sets his cup back on the table.

“Sure,” he says.

His lackluster answer is telling, and he can’t even think of a joke to inject into this moment to lighten the mood. (He even disappoints himself there.)

“Look, I get it,” you say at last. “You probably ate, slept, breathed that game. Like that’s what you were put on this earth to do. And I know you must’ve been good. Because the fact that this school hired you while you’re still in college is amazing.”

He meets your gaze steadily.

Your smile brightens. “But I’m sure football’s not all there is to you.”

That touches him. Warms him even, though he’s reluctant to let it.

“We just met, and you’re already sure about that?” he remarks.

You shrug, gesturing at his cup. “Well, I’m sure that you probably have crappy taste in coffee. I’m broke as hell, and even I don’t drink from a Keurig.”

Jason laughs. If you only knew that he’d spent his summer in Paris, sampling some of the best restaurants and cafés in the world without even looking at the bill…until his dad cut him off. Needless to say, he’s had to refine his tastes.

“What kind of teacher do you want to be?” he asks, instead of getting to all that.

Your brow arches. “You mean what subject?”

“Yeah. What, like physics or something?”

“Ew. God, no!”

“What’s wrong with physics?”

“Too much math. I’m shit at that shit,” you reply.

“Okay. No to the sciences.” He laughs and rubs his chin, squinting at you. “Let me see if I can guess.”

You gesture widely. Go ahead.

“Not economics, I’m thinking. Too close to business,” he teases.

“Business law,” you correct. “But you’re actually right about that.”

“Hmm, history?”

“It's interesting, but it’s also rigged,” you say. “Only the victors in society get to dictate what gets remembered. Just look at Columbus Day. What a sham that is.”

Jason allows that with a nod and a smile. “All right, what then? Algebra? Geometry?”

“That’s math, remember?” you reply, with furrowed brows. “Besides, I don’t like mixing letters and numbers. It’s not sanitary.”

He chortles at that. You’re a little ridiculous, but he kind of likes that.

“Okay, how about English?” he says.

Your gaze flicks up to his. A small, growing smile.

“What makes you say that?” you ask.

“Process of elimination?” he says. His smile curves. He saw your little reaction. “But I don’t know. I get the feeling you’re a hell of a lot smarter than me. The way you’re talking, all quick as a whip… Like I said, you’ve got a way with words.”

You laugh a little. “Oh, do I?”

Jason’s brows raise expectantly as he leans back in his seat again.

Well, then? that move says. “Am I right?”

Your head tilts, and you answer the unspoken challenge in his eyes. You raise a finger and pull out one of your notebooks and you take up your red pen. You tap the top of it on your lip, in what seems to be your habit, and you begin to write on a clean piece of paper.

Your hand moves with purpose on each word. Jason watches you in curiosity. Though when you realize he’s staring hard at your paper, your free hand forms a wall against his probing eyes.

“No cheating,” you reproach.

He scoffs, but he waits for you to finish.

Finally, you tear off the piece of notebook paper, fold it up neatly, and you slide it over to him.

“What, are we passing notes now?” Jason can’t help but joke, even as he opens the little gift. “I thought we weren’t in class, Professor.”

You shake your head. “Just read it.”

He starts to, and his smile grows. He glances back up at you. “You wrote me a poem?”

“Just a little haiku.” You gesture at him to keep reading while you start to pack up your things. The alarm bell just tolled for the end of class, and you have another job to get to.

Jason’s eyes lower back down to the looping scrawl of your handwriting. His smile deepens into a smirk.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

He stares at your words for a while. He rereads the last line a few times.

By the time he looks back up, your bag is packed and you’re standing, ready to go. You smile at him.

“See you on campus,” you say. “I also work at the Writing Center, if you ever need a spruce up on your essays.”

“Can I get you to rewrite my history paper?” he teases.

“Make an appointment,” you counter, still with that smile. “And we’ll see.”

You leave the faculty lounge, and Jason feels a suspicious jolt in his heart.

Something he immediately feels guilty about.

Because the real reason he came back to Kansas is to continue his summer fling with Lana Lang, a senior at Smallville High.

Well, to him, it’s not a fling. He used to think it was as close to love as he’s ever been. Recently though, he’s been getting the sense that she’s still hung up on her not quite ex, Clark Kent.

That’s not even the most complicated part.

She’s 18, and Jason’s barely 20, but their relationship could still one day be the reason he loses his job…

And maybe, any chance he might have of being friends with someone like you.

AN: Lol no shade to my sciences, history, and math people! Just creating a character. Let me know what you think! 😉

And if you liked this...

Read the Sequel!

Check out "Miss Professor" to continue reading. ❤️

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salchica · 3 months ago

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honey + hazelnut

“Are you from Tennessee?” He says. Hot Barista cocks his head to the side, confused. He’s adorable. He looks like a fucking cocker spaniel. “No? I was raised in Indiana,” Hot Barista says. The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. “Because you’re the only ten I…” God, Eddie’s gonna do it, isn’t he? “Because you’re the only ten I see.” He finally chokes out. The awkward silence seems to stretch on forever, the only sounds being the impatient sigh of the lady behind him in line and the weary hiss of the espresso machine.

When Eddie was little he made up an imaginary boyfriend. And then he meets Steve in real life.

Published: 02/08/24 | Words:5,174 | Rating: Teen & Up | Link x

Originally for the Steddie Valentine's Day Exchange.

honey + hazelnut

“Hey Eddie, what can I get for you?”

Eddie looks up from his phone and immediately bluescreens. The barista’s fucking beautiful is the thing; all lean muscle and swoopy brown hair, moles dotting his face and neck, a pink mouth that Eddie just wanted to--

He quickly reminds himself that he’s public, specifically at a coffee shop with like, normal non-depraved people around. It’s called First Sip , and the vibes are chill, if a little gentrification-chic. First Sip is hipster adjacent, the outside painted a nice forest green with plenty of bookshelves and squishy couches. Cozy .

Eddie’s only job right now is to grab coffee and book it back to Chrissy’s apartment. Apparently eviscerating his latest draft is a very taxing job and requires copious amounts of caffeine, but when Chrissy mentioned the ‘cute little café that just opened around the corner ’, she failed to mention the fucking Adonis that worked there. If Eddie’s brain was online, now would be the time he’d turn on the good old Munson smarm. It’s a patented technique passed from parent-to-child up and down the Munson family tree; a peacock-esque display of finger guns, waggling eyebrows and bad pick-up lines. It’s a little pathetic and honestly best taken in from a distance, but four times out of ten it ends with a laugh and a number in Eddie’s pocket. Fuck it, Eddie thinks.

“Are you from Tennessee?” He says. Hot Barista cocks his head to the side, confused. He’s adorable. He looks like a fucking cocker spaniel.

“No? I was raised in Indiana,” Hot Barista says. The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. “Because you’re the only ten I…” God , Eddie’s gonna do it, isn’t he? “Because you’re the only ten I see.” He finally chokes out. The awkward silence seems to stretch on forever, the only sounds being the impatient sigh of the lady behind him in line and the weary hiss of the espresso machine.

Eddie is literally a writer goddammit; the fantasy series Chrissy is currently editing is full of words that Eddie himself had put in painstaking order. He wants to scream. Not even the cheesy one-liners he’s used in the past have been this bad. The Munson ancestors have failed him. They’re probably all face-palming in hell.

“Eddie?” Hot Barista says. Eddie can’t tell if he sounds amused or concerned.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. He knows a critical failure when he sees it. Eddie looks up at the menu hanging up on the back wall, the letters written in delicate, looping calligraphy against the black chalkboard. “Two black coffees, please.”

“Great choice, black coffee is a classic,” Hot Barista says. His eyes are all shiny, like he’s holding back a laugh. Or maybe he wants to scream but can’t because he’s on the clock. He probably gets hit on all the time by poor unsuspecting people who aren’t prepared to be faced with that much cuteness before their morning coffee. Oh no, Eddie thinks, am I a creep? When did I become someone who hits on people at their literal job?

His face feels like it’s on fire as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket and slides the money over the counter. Eddie mentally plots to buy Chrissy a Keurig or something so he never has to step foot in this café ever, ever again. As he moves off to the side to wait for his order, the woman behind him huffs a finally under her breath. Eddie’s shoulders bunch up around his ears. Like sure, yeah, he’d held up the line, but he’s paid for it enough out of sheer mortification.

I’m gonna fucking kill myself. He texts Chrissy.

After a minute, she texts back: Did you get my latte? All business, that one. She’s too used to his dramatics. Eddie should ramp it up a notch and threaten to quit writing. Fuck the New York Times bestseller list; Eddie’s going to retire and move to Siberia.

Here lies Eddie Munson, time of death 10:30 am. He hits send.

“Teddy?” The second barista says. She’s pretty, with a sharp face full of freckles and the gayest shag Eddie’s ever seen. Eddie looks around. As far as he knows, he’s the only person waiting for their order right now, but Lesbian Barista had clearly called out Teddy… which is Eddie’s name, technically, if only among family and very close friends. Eddie makes eye contact with her and points at himself. She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, you. Teddy, Eddie, whatever-- here’s your coffee,” She says. She shoves two cups across the counter. Eddie can see the steam rising from the little drinking-hole.

“How did you know my--”

“I refuse to get involved in this more than I already am,” She says, walking back to the espresso machine. Eddie picks up the cups and notices writing scribbled on the side:

Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date? Text me (xxx)xxx-xxxx! -Steve.

Eddie looks up at the counter, where Hot Barista -- Steve -- is still taking people’s orders. The line is longer than it was when Eddie first walked in, and Steve is hard at work, toned arms fighting for their lives in his tight polo. “...Holy shit ,” Eddie says.

So. The thing is, until now Eddie hadn’t taken in Hot Barista in his entirety.

He’s noticed parts of him of course, like the aforementioned hair, moles, and mouth-- but it’s like Eddie’s subconscious had wanted to spare him this realization by only letting him perceive Hot Barista as a bunch of separate but equally hot parts. It might have taken Eddie three tries to graduate high school, but he’s always been good at putting puzzles together… even if the obvious answer to the puzzle doesn’t make sense. His mind is buzzing as he puts two and two together--

Today was the first time he’d ever stepped foot into First Sip, yet somehow Steve had greeted him by name. He presumably told Lesbian Barista to call Eddie “Teddy”, a family nickname that only Wayne calls him, now. Instead of throwing coffee in Eddie’s face, this “Steve” had responded with his own equally bad pick-up line.

Steve is the very picture of an All-American Midwestern boy, all gee whiz and yes ma’am and aw shucks. Eddie had thought he’d looked familiar, but only in the way that most people look familiar when they share traits with the type of people you’ve seen your entire life. But as Eddie stares, his mind superimposes a younger version of Steve over this current one. He looks like… Well, he looks like Stevie, Eddie’s “childhood friend” when he was like ten. He hasn’t thought about Stevie in years, which makes sense because Stevie was imaginary.

He wasn’t supposed to exist.

So, to explain:

Eddie has always been like, really fucking gay. It’s something people tend to know just by looking at him, even when he was younger and didn’t even know it himself just yet. When he went to live with Wayne after everything that happened with his parents, the entirety of Hawkins seemingly clocked him as soon as he stepped a foot within city limits. So even though itwas like 2011 and gay rights were steadily gaining traction, people still avoided Eddie like queerness was contagious . In Indianapolis it hadn’t really been a problem, but Hawkins had never quite managed to shake off its Evangelical roots.

So the first two years Eddie was in Hawkins, he was lonely . He was the new kid with a shaved head and clothes that didn’t fit, and he doodled in class instead of listening to anything an authority figure had to say. People gave him a wide berth, and his only saving grace had been the woods behind Wayne’s trailer. He’d go there for hours after school, acting out scenes from the book he was reading at the time and even things from his own head.

It went on like that for months, until one day he’d found a boy .

He’d been perched in the biggest tree Eddie had ever seen, almost like he was hiding in the leaves. But since Eddie had a lifetime of observation skills - thank you, trauma -, he’d noticed the boy right away.

“Hi,” Eddie had said.

“Hello,” The boy said. He pushed his face out, and Eddie swears to this day his heart skipped a beat-- the boy was just so cute. He jumped down from the tree in a controlled fall, almost like he was floating. The first thing Eddie had noticed were the small wings on his back, delicate and see-through like a butterflies. “You have wings!” Eddie couldn’t help but state the obvious. “Is it like a costume or something?”

“Yeah. It’s a costume,” The boy said. Eddie shrugged-- he didn’t want to ask too many questions in case the boy was scared away, but he had so many. What materials did he use, was there a YouTube tutorial, how did he get them to move independently from his body--

Instead, Eddie went with a tried and true, “What’s your name?” Biting back every single question he had.

“My name is Steve, but you can call me Stevie,” The boy said. “What is your name?”

“Eddie, but my Uncle Wayne calls me Teddy. It makes me sound like a stuffed bear or something.” Eddie complained. He’d wanted to be cool, like it didn’t fill him with warm fuzzies the way Wayne said his name with such tenderness. Steve had grinned, like he’d understood even without Eddie having to spell it out. “Want to play with me?” Stevie said, and that was that.

This went on for months; Eddie rushing into the woods after school to play with Stevie until the sun went down. It had gotten to the point where Wayne started asking Eddie to bring Steve by sometime so he could meet his new friend. But every time Eddie had suggested it, Stevie had made a constipated face, so Eddie eventually stopped. He didn’t need to know everything about Stevie to know that he has Eddie’s best friend.

But one day when Eddie had gone to their spot, instead of the branches Stevie was sitting at the foot of the tree, crying. It was especially weird because it was like the tree was reflecting Stevie’s mood; it was droopier than usual, and even the little mushrooms at the base of its trunk were dull and shrunken. Stevie’s wings were folded against his back, and they weren’t even their regular violet-blue… they were gray and brown, so drained of color that they almost blended in with the bark of the tree. Stevie told Eddie that his mom was moving them, that there was something about a court or custody split and Stevie had to go away.

“Will you make me a promise?” Stevie asked. And not one to deny Stevie anything, Eddie of course said yes. “Promise you’ll never forget me, okay? Even when we’re old and big and you have friends you can see all the time and not only in the woods.”

“I’ll never, ever forget you Stevie,” Eddie said solemnly. The moment had felt charged, even if Eddie didn't know exactly why . He’d figured it out pretty fast once Stevie leaned in and quickly pecked Eddie on the lips.

“Now it’s sealed,�� Stevie’d said.They’d shared a small smile-- it was Eddie’s first kiss, and he felt giddy with it, little bubbles of excitement popping in his stomach.

Sadly, Eddie never saw him again. Stevie didn’t have social media, or an email; in fact no one in Hawkins seemed to have known him at all. Eddie had asked everyone if they’d known Stevie, maybe from a church camp or boy scouts or some other secret thing that wasn’t hosted at the one middle school in Hawkins, but no one knew what Eddie was talking about. He never mentioned Stevie’s wings, just in case the wrong person overhead.

When Eddie finally hit high school and figured out he was gay, he’d just begun to accept the truth. Stevie had to have been a made up dream by a lonely kid with a vivid imagination. That was the reason he’d had wings and been Eddie catnip, because Eddie had made him up-- a cute boy with swoopy brown hair, a little shorter than Eddie so he was the perfect height for hugging, and fucking majestic wings. Looking back, little Eddie was fucking pure. All he wanted was a cute boy to hold hands with, sometimes.

All to say that yeah, Eddie’s queer as shit because what’s gayer than making up his first boyfriend? He’d imagined a lot… Except apparently he hadn’t . Stevie was Steve , and he wanted Eddie to call him. He was a real, flesh and blood human being, apparently living around the corner from Eddie’s best friend. The wings were nowhere in sight, but still…

Holy shittttttt.

Eddie wants to text Steve, he really, truly does. It’s just he doesn't know how to start.

‘ Hey, when you were 11 did you ever mysteriously disappear from Hawkins?’ It didn’t really have a good ring to it.

Neither did ‘ Will you marry me and help raise my children’, so… It’s safe to say that Eddie was stumped.

As soon as Eddie had read the number on his cup, Steve had turned around and given him a cheeky little wink. Eddie had nodded first to himself, then to Lesbian Barista, then to the harried mom with a baby on her hip sipping something that looked like a marshmallow on steroids. He’d then spun on his heel and beat it out of First Sip and out into the frosty Indianapolis winter.

Chrissy hadn’t even said anything when he’d pushed open her door, just grabbed her coffee and thrown it back like a shot. And now it was hours later and Eddie still hasn’t managed to text Steve. When he’d first told Chrissy about all of it, tree floating and wings included, she’d just quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you on drugs? Do you have a fever or something?” She’d put her hand over Eddie’s forehead, her face the picture of mock concern. “ Fuck you, man. I’m trying to be vulnerable here,” Eddie said.

“By telling me about your imaginary boyfriend. A boyfriend with wings. Okay, sure.” She was still skeptical, which was fair in all honesty. Now Eddie’s been rotting on her couch for hours, visibly flip-flopping back and forth on whether or not he should take the risk and send Steve a message.

“Chris,” Eddie groans. He draws out the ‘s’, hoping to annoy her enough that she has to pay attention to him. He kicks his legs up on her couch. Chrissy kind of hated it when he spread out all over it, but Eddie thinks it’s completely fair with the amount of back-breaking labor he did getting the damned thing up the stairs and through Chrissy’s front door.

“Babe, just text him,” Chrissy says. “Would you like to go out with me? It’s scary, but it’s not that hard.”

“It’s not that simple!” Eddie objects.

“It really, really is,” Chrissy rolls her eyes, setting down Eddie’s manuscript where she’s currently going over it in red pen. Eddie revels in the dull thump it makes when it hits the coffee table. ‘The Warded Wind’ had taken him a full year to finish, and as the third book in his trilogy it needed to be perfect.

Eddie’s favorite thing about Chrissy is that she insists on doing proofreads without a computer to fully focus and cut out any distractions.

“He literally disappeared off of the face of the Earth.”

“Wow, it’s so hard to hide from an eleven year old,” Chrissy deadpans.

“Okay but if he managed to do that at 11, imagine what he could do now?” Eddie says.

Chrissy pulls her hair back into a tight braid at the base of her skill, the strawberry blonde strands twisting against her fingers as she sighs. “Eds, can I be real with you for a second?”

“Please.”

“You’re gonna to text him. He’s your first kiss, your childhood friend and you said he was a total babe.”

“All of this is true,” Eddie says. “But I just… I don’t know, there’s part of me that’s like, he knew me as a kid. What if he doesn't even like me now?

“Eddie, you’re forgetting one very important detail,” Chrissy says. She ties her braid with a scrunchie and scoots over to the couch. Eddie flops his head to the side to look her in the eye.

“What’s that?”

“If you don’t text Steve, you’ll never get to kiss him again.” She sounds smug… she really does know him way too well.

‘Hey it’s Eddie. Wanna get coffee?’ He hits send.

The response comes almost immediately: ‘what time? u already know the place (; ‘

Eddie pulls one of Chrissy’s throw pillows over his face and screams.

They schedule their date for a week out, so Eddie has time to do some research. He’s literally shifted his whole perspective of his life in a matter of hours; he’d thought Stevie had been a fake boy made up by a lonely little Eddie and now he thinks that Stevie might have been real, but the wings and the frankly weird attunement to the woods behind the trailer park was just his overactive imagination filling in the details. So, research.

Chrissy’s extremely helpful in Eddie’s light internet stalking, showing him how to go to First Sip’s Instagram and look through the tagged photos since he still doesn't have Steve’s last name. He finds out that Steve isn’t just a barista, he’s the owner. There’s a lot of pictures of him with Lesbian Barista, whose name is apparently Robin. Constantly tagged is a bunch of fifteen year olds, and in every picture with them Steve gives off caring big brother energy. Eddie can’t help but find it hot.

But…

Part of him, probably the part that liked to write fantasy and held a little bit of hope that there was magic out there somewhere-- that part needed to be prepared. What if Steve was a fairy? Did Eddie accidentally sell his soul to him? How does he make sure this date with Steve goes well? Can he even eat the food in the café or will that make him stuck in First Sip forever?

So, Eddie does what any young person with access to the Internet does. He turns to Reddit.

-- What do fairies like? Shiny things. Old Buttons. Charms. Paperclips.Flowers. Berries. Honey. Luckily, Eddie was something of a hoarder; he loved trinkets and didn’t mind pushing them off on his friends. As for the food stuff, they literally were meeting in a café, so there was no need for Eddie to go buy all new stuff. Actually, he might grab some honey candies at the Quiktrip on the corner before going to First Sip..

-- What do fairies hate? Iron. Eddie’s rings are all so cheap, but there is one… It’s a dragon that wraps around his thumb that he found out at an estate sale when he first moved to Indianapolis, with little divots in its eye-holes where he assumes stones used to sit.He makes a mental note to put it in his pocket before the date. Actually, maybe he should scrub his hands while he’s at it.

-- Is it fairy or fae? All of the answers were supremely unhelpful, but Eddie decided it didn’t really matter. It’s not like he was going to ask Steve about it, and he decides to just go with the flow and let Stevie bring it up if it ever came down to that. Eddie wasn’t going to reveal that he had a weird delusion as a kid and that’s why he stopped looking for Steve over the years.

So like, Eddie knows he’s a creep. If Tommy Hagan or Jason Carver could see him now, they’d probably point and laugh, telling everyone how they’d ‘always known’ that Eddie would wind up in jail for something. But technically, Eddie’s supposed to be here-- one, First Sip is a public space and two, he’s not being weird. He’s just… really, really early.

It’s been a harsh Indianapolis winter, snow and the after snow-sludge making the trek to First Sip go from ten minutes to thirty, so like any sane, reasonable person he left an hour and a half before the actual date with Steve was due to start. He’d stood outside of the double glass doors, deciding on whether or not to actually bite the bullet and go inside, eventually giving up when Steve spots him with a slightly confused wave.

“Eddie! You’re--” Steve checks his watch. Eddie knows what it says, but it’s too late to backtrack now. “You’re really early.”

“I know, I was just… really excited to see you,” Eddie says. Honesty is the best policy, right?

Steve beams.

Eddie knows he probably looks insane, with his beanie shoved over tangled curls and his nose red from the negative temperatures outside. Hawkins wasn’t that far from Indy, and it was cold, sure, but something about the city magnifies it; like all the tall buildings trap the miserable weather and keep it all concentrated over a ten-block radius. Anyway-- all of that, the cold, the biting wind, the way he can’t feel his toes-- all of that’s worth it for the giggle Stevie aims his way.

Eddie wonders how he didn’t notice it earlier; Steve’s laugh is just like Stevie’s, ethereal, almost like tiny bells falling against each other. He wonders if that can be counted as proof that Steve is more than human; there’s no way a normal human throat can make that sound. He wishes he still played with the Corroded Coffin guys; he wants to make an album off of that sound alone. No lyrics, just an acoustic guitar and Stevie’s bell laugh and--

Damn , he’s being weird again. He clears his throat, ignoring the way a group of kids at a table near the counter are staring him down. They look oddly familiar-- Eddie tries not to let it show on his face when he recognizes them from First Sip’s tagged photos.

“We’re short staffed today, otherwise I’d say we could just have our date right now,” Steve says.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. He unwinds his scarf from around his neck. “I’ll just…” He gestures vaguely at the seating area. First Sip is actually fairly busy and Eddie doesn’t see any empty chairs. Even the bench by the window is full of people clacking away on their laptops. “Actually, I’ll probably come back later?”

There’s a tap on Eddie’s elbow, and he looks down to see a curly-headed kid in a baseball cap smiling up at him. He’s one of Steve’s, Eddie’s pretty sure, but then again he sometimes finds it hard to tell kids apart. “You can sit with us, Eddie.” The kid says. He points over at his friends who don’t even pretend that they’re not watching the interaction. They all give Eddie cheeky waves when he spares them a glance.

“Dustin, no,” Steve warns. Eddie looks around again-- all of the chairs and couches are still completely full and people don’t look like they’re moving. This isn’t the kind of thing that Eddie had in mind when he’d left his apartment, but if the kids were important to Steve he figures he can tough it out. “It’s alright Steve, I can sit with… Dustin, right?” The kid nods, holding out a hand to shake.

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Party, come on,” He says, pulling Eddie by his coat’s elbow. Eddie looks back at Steve and gives him a small smile-- I’ll be okay. Steve’s return look could only be interpreted as-- Be safe. Don't show weakness.

Weird.

Eddie sits down on the couch, sinking into the cushions with a groan as Dustin goes around the circle, quickly introducing everyone. Eddie feels pinned to his cushion; something about these kids stares makes his heartbeat kick it up a notch, and not in a good way.

“Party, like D&D?” Eddie asks.

“You know D&D? Point in your favor,” Dustin says. Eddie gets the very real sense that Dustin has a mental point tally running in his head. “Nerd shit is negative seven, Dusty-Buns,” The redheaded girl says. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Dustin says. “What are your intentions with my older brother?” Eddie didn’t know it was possible for a fifteen-year old to give a shovel talk and actually look like they were going to go through with it, but the murder in the eyes of every child surrounding him gave him actual pause. He clears his throat.

“Hi, my name is Eddie. I’m in my 20s, I write books for a living, and I play guitar in my spare time.” Eddie says. "Those are answers to questions you're supposed to ask, when you meet someone for the first time."

“Okay, so? We didn't ask.” The kid named Mike says. His features are weirdly sharp and shark-like, getting worse as he twists his face into a scowl.

“I really, really like your older brother, so my intention is probably just to date him.” Eddie says.

“Hmm…” Dustin says. He tugs in two other kids-- one with a bowl cut, Will, and a little Black girl that looked a little younger than the others, Erica. They put their heads together, whispering and occasionally glancing back at Eddie. The other kids don’t say anything, just keep Eddie pinned with their unwavering stares.

Unbidden, Eddie is thrown back back to his time in Hawkins, when he was a freshman in high school. He’d read somewhere, maybe on tumblr or something, that high school was the time you were supposed to reinvent yourself. And after not fitting in in middle school, he’d had a moment of weakness and just wanted to try.

He’d walked to the only Goodwill in town, running his fingers along the racks idly until he’d seen it . The most butt-ugly, high-collared polo ever created. He didn’t even think it over, not really, he just shoved it inside his jacket and walked casually to the fitting room. He’d always known how to be a freak; how to be big and paint a target on his back. At that point he’d worn it like armor, impenetrable and permanent, his valiant attempt at hiding his soft and gooey center. He’d just wanted to see what it would be like to be the type of person everyone loved. To have everything come easy .

“One more time... what are your intentions with our babysitter?” Lucas says.

Eddie is almost tempted to dilute himself to make sure these kids like him, pull on a mask and just have their approval. But something told him not to underestimate them; he doubts it will be that easy. For some reason Eddie feels like one wrong word could get him kicked out onto the street to fend for himself.

“I’m gonna have his babies,” Eddie says firmly. There’s a chorus of ' ew gross!', but the ice is broken. Somehow, things go alright after that.

When Steve finally slides onto the couch next to Eddie, First Sip is pretty much empty and all of the kids have gone home. Dustin had left with a warning to ‘not mess this up’, which Eddie figures is pretty much a seal of approval. He hopes he wasn’t that intense as a kid. Maybe he should send Wayne an apology letter.

“So,” Steve says. He’s shy about it, thick lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“So,” Eddie says back. He gives into his impulse and covers Steve’s hand with his where it sits on the middle cushion of the couch, lacing their fingers together. “Are you really my Stevie?” Steve positively shines, his smile making his nose crinkle adorably.

“You remember me!” Steve says.

“I mean I didn’t at first, but to be honest no one besides you and Wayne ever called me Teddy,” Eddie says.

“You can blame Robin for that. I was sad at first, thinking that I didn't keep your promise, until she told me I was being dumb and that I needed to jog your memory.”

“Well, it worked sweetheart,” Eddie says. Steve blushes all the way up to his hair at the pet name, and Eddie makes a vow right there to keep that look on Steve’s face forever.

The two of them sit on the couch long after First Sip is closed, talking about everything and nothing. It’s perfect.

Weeks later sees Steve squirming in Eddie’s lap, panting as Eddie is hard at work marking up his neck. Steve suddenly sits upright, pushing his hands against Eddie’s chest. “There’s something you should know,” Steve says. Eddie tightens his grip on Steve’s hips, mind fuzzily trying to work through what Steve’s saying. His inner monologue is just a loop of Stevestevesteve, so he’s a little slow on the uptake.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“I’m a fairy.” Steve says.

Eddie pauses for a second, tucking hair behind Steve’s ear. “I mean… I hope so? We’re literally making out?” Eddie was all for reclaiming slurs, but there was usually a time and a place. Stevie huffs a laugh, leaning in to nuzzle Eddie’s nose with his.

“No, watch,” and he closes his eyes for a moment, sitting back on Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie can’t help but look at Steve’s face, trying his best to memorize every part of him. He’s so transfixed that until they start glowing he doesn’t even notice the giant fucking wings that have appeared on Steve’s back until they flutter in his periphery.

“What,” Eddie says. There’s a little jolt in his chest, like a muted surprise. But he’d always known, hadn’t he? Steve was different, but he’d always been this beautiful, wild thing. On some level Eddie had always known it.

His eyes trace over Stevie’s wings-- they’re just like he remembers, gossamer and violet-purple, outlined prettily by the sunset. He reaches out a hand to touch, then hesitates.

“Go ahead, Teddy,” Stevie smiles. The wings warm underneath his hands. “Beautiful,” Eddie breathes. “I love you so fucking much, baby.” There’s a beat-- Eddie knows it’s a risk, he knows it’s too early, but it’s the truth. He doesn't want to take it back.

“Promise?” Steve says. His eyes twinkle with mischief, like he doesn’t know that Eddie could spend all day looking at him and not get tired. Like Eddie’s eyes focus on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Like Eddie hasn’t been absolutely gone on him since he was eleven and lonely, and Stevie was the only thing keeping him together. “I promise,” Eddie says.

He pulls his very real, very not imaginary boyfriend in, and seals the promise with a kiss.

THE END.

Notes:

Later, Steve will introduce himself as Prince Steven of the Spring Court. He’ll say that he was curious why Eddie was playing by himself when his games looked so fun. Eddie will also meet the Party as their pixie selves! Thanks for reading (:

Dividers by @strangergraphics-archive

#steddie #omegaverse #stranger things #not beta'd #coffee shop au

46 notes · View notes

lefteagleblizzard · 7 months ago

Text

𝕭𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖐

Derek danforth x gender neutral reader

Summary: as Derek’s personal assistant, it’s your job to do whatever you need to in order to make your boss’ day run smoothly.

This is like a continuation of the other story that I wrote for Derek, but can also be read as a standalone.

You can also read this on wattpad or ao3

Warnings: gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Smut! Oral sex (reader giving). Dom Derek. Boss x advisor relationship. Sorry for bad grammar. Sorry if it’s cringe. Enjoy :)

Word counts: 3000+

The coffee pot is already halfway empty when you walks into the staff kitchen at half past eleven, the handle of your green and white spotted mug hanging loosely from your fingertips. You nod a greeting at a coworker of yours, scrolling through her Blackberry as she sips from her own orange mug, and step up to the counter. Setting your cup down on the linoleum surface, you grab the pot and fill the cup two-thirds with the liquid energy that doesn’t work as well as it used to.

The office is abuzz with the usual hustle and bustle. People huddle around the coffee machine, tapping away at keyboards, and discussing weekend plans.

You could hear whispers barely audible from behind you.

You strut past, your chin held high. You catch their stares but don’t flinch.

They are more than likely talking about the purple constellation that adorned your neck.

Courtesy of the esteemed boss, Mr. Danforth. They are like a badge of honor, they show how dedicated to your job you were.

You open the cabinet overhead and digs out three packets of sugar and a stirrer. Tossing them next to your mug, you traverse the small space to the fridge and pull open the door to grab the hazelnut creamer off the side. When you turns around, closing the fridge door with your elbow, Mickey is squeezing into the room around the woman as she leaves.

“Need a boost already?” Mickey asks with a bit of laughter in his voice.

Mickey is one of the members of the UDG and, although he and you aren’t particularly close outside of the office, he makes for good company during the day.

You offers up a smile before returning your attention to your coffee. “I’ve been running around all morning coordinating the arrival plans of various investors,” you explain, opening the creamer and filling your mug the rest of the way. “And there’s that joint meeting with Production after lunch so I can’t risk passing out.”

Putting the creamer aside, he tears open all three packets of sugar at once and pours them in.

Mickey hums sympathetically even though he’ll be sitting in on the meeting as well. He takes a quick look at the side of your neck, rolling his eyes at the indecency in trying at least to hide obvious things. He goes to grab a cup of greek yogurt with his name written along the top and side in thick, black marker, nabbing the creamer on his way to the fridge to put it back.

You gently stir your coffee to dissolve the sugar. You curl your fingers around the handle, careful so they don’t brush against the burning stoneware.

“Long night, eh?” He said while glancing back quickly at your neck with his eyes.

“Oh, you have no idea.” your eyes gleaming as you remembered the party that occurred the night before.

You raised the mug in a wave and laughed at the annoyed pinch of Mickey’s eyebrows. Lifting the mug to your lips, you take a sip off your coffee as you turn to walk through the floor back to your own office. It’s still much too hot, and you may have overdone it on the sugar, but you need the caffeine to kick in sooner rather than later.

You walk past, triumphant, leaving behind your coworkers still whispering behind your back, unapologetically proud. Because sometimes, in the corporate jungle, you’ve got to wear your bruises with pride.

The department is in a casual disarray with the preparations for the afternoon meeting, the potential launch of a new line of products the main stressor. It’s still rather early in discussion; all of the serious panicked overtime work won’t happen for another couple months.

Taking another sip of your coffee before placing your mug down on the coaster you drunkenly stole from a sports bar a few months ago, you drag over your tablet. You tap and drag your stylus over the screen until you pull up your email. There’s already five new emails in your inbox.

You sigh from annoyance.

At the light call of your name, you push out of your lazy lean over your desk and straighten up. Turning over your shoulder, you lock eyes with your boss. The slightly older man rests against the open doorway, a hand tucked into the pocket of his light green slacks. He wears a light smile that quirks into something of a smirk.

His pupils were dilated.

The fucker was already having fun without you.

“Yes, Mr. Danforth?” you answer, fully facing your boss with your head resting on the back of your hands closed with your fingers intertwined. Your eyes start to wander toward the floor but you drag them back up to the older man’s face.

Your boss looks you up and down with purpose. “Come into my office for a moment, please?” He talked with that preppie teenage snot voice that you’ve come to like more and more.

“Now?” You hide a grin behind your hands. You could hear footsteps of other coworkers.

“If you have the time.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on your boss as the older man steps out of the doorway and walks across the hallway to his own office. Once he’s out of sight, you heave in a deep breath.

You grab your coffee, taking one last drink while it’s still warm because you know you’re not going to be back before it cools.

For being the CEO of a ‘successful’ company at the young age of twenty-eight, Derek Danforth has a unique head on his shoulders.

As his personal advisor, you know a lot of Derek’s quirks — the signs he’s not as indefinitely happy as he seems and wading in stress. Signs like the way his eyes were iced over a moment ago, and like the way his fingers twitched where they hid in his pocket.

And it’s your job to keep Derek ‘in check’.

It had started with a stealthy look during a meeting, when you were still relatively new to the job.

Then with a stolen smile in the hallway.

Then with a light exchange of words while you were still working at night.

To then sex whenever the two of you wanted to.

Every encounter was a risk (at least for you in the beginning), but the thrill and the passion had overwhelmed you two like a stormy wave.

You step into Derek’s office, eyes on the tips of your shoes. You drag the door shut and twist the lock behind your back without raising your chin.

“Yes, Sir?”

Derek’s fingers tap along the surface of his desk, the skips in rhythm a confirmation that he’s under stress. They stop, and then you hear the slide of a computer mouse over a mouse pad followed by a click and a flurry of typing.

And you wait, playing with your fingers behind your back where Derek can’t see. (Although he probably knows that you are fidgeting. You always had a problem with fidgeting.)

The tip tap of Derek’s fingers moving over the keys echoes in the spacious expanse of his office and the lack of immediate attention leaves you to hover between alertness and disconnect.

“Come sit,” Derek says at last, tone conversational.

You lets yourself disconnect a little more, the command enough to push you into a pleasant haze. You bobs your head in a nod. “Yes, Sir.”

Derek isn’t one for flair but the visitor’s chairs in his office have cushions like clouds. You leave a subtle hint every once in a while that you want to know where they came from but Derek has yet to divulge.

You want to reach out to touch the back of one of the two chairs, but you keep your hands to yourself as you round the desk and stop at Derek’s left. You catch a glimpse of Derek’s desk as you drop to your knees.

There was some strange paper that looked like a sort of message but you had no time to read it as the paper was instantly crushed by Derek’s fingers and thrown to the trash.

Derek sinks his fingers into your hair with an approving hum.

A quiet exhale blows over your lips. You lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut as you’re petted. When your mind starts to wander, you lose track of time, so you don't know how many minutes pass before Derek turns in his chair and guides you between his spread legs.

“Do you mind helping me out?” Derek asks in a needy voice, massing his fingers into your nape.

You hum, pleased. The fingers at your neck press harder and you pull your eyes open. “Of course.”

Derek’s hand leaves your neck and travels to his belt.

“Actually...” you meet Derek’s eyes for the first time since entering his office. The heady gaze of hunger makes your cheeks tint and your heart soar. At the quirk of an eyebrow, you know to continue. “I was waiting until after the meeting but I have a proposal for you.”

Derek’s right eyebrow raises to join the left. He leans back in his chair and props one of his elbows up on an arm rest. “Show me, then.”

You rise to your feet. You preen under Derek’s attention, squirming cutely as you undoe the button and zip of your pants and inches them down to your knees, along with your underwear. Waddling to face the desk, you spare a glance back at your boss before moving his laptop off to the side.

Resting your weight onto your elbows, you leans over the desk with your unbuttoned slacks held up by spread thighs. You swipe your tongue over your lips and shifts your weight onto one arm, reaching back with the other to spread yourself open for Derek to see.

The chair creaks a bit when Derek raises out of it.

“You’ve been stressed as of lately and it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it to me. I was hoping I could—”

“Quiet.”

Pressing your forehead against the desk, you bite back another whimper and clamp your lips shut.

Derek’s fingers are cold as they trail down the slight exposure of your back and over the curve of your ass. Already properly ready to take him thanks to you.

“How many times have you come today?” He rubs his finger up and down.

You shake your head.

Clicking his tongue, Derek bears his hand down on your ass, the slap light but scolding.

Your breath hitches and you exhale out a small giggle, soaring a little higher after the hit. “Zero.” You answer properly.

“I’d love to fuck you loose and then turn you over the other side of my desk. Unlock the door and let anyone who comes in see how beautifully you gape.”

Whimpering, you clench around nothing under the effect of his finger. Derek rubs circles into the small of his back, shushing you under his breath.

“You want it that badly, eh?”

His words get lost in the clouds filling the space between your ears, making his voice a dull noise that sounds like it’s happening outside the walls of the office.

“Sweetheart?”

Giggling, you press your cheek into the desk and tries to look up at your boss.

Derek pokes the tip of his nose and chuckles when you scrunches it. “You went down further than I thought you would,” he mumbles to himself. “That’s fine. I guess we both need it.”

You stare at him starry-eyed, grin uncontrollable, as Derek retrieves his fingers and yanks your pants up.

Beginning to work at his belt, Derek nods at his advisor. “On your knees”

A part of you wants to whine at the command — wants Derek to touch you, wants to be able to touch yourself — but the gruff voice of your boss’ voice scrapes over your skin and leave you warm and obedient. You push yourself up and easily return to your position on the floor, back pulled straight in attention and arms folded behind your back, hands curved around your elbows, in denial.

Derek brushes soft fingers over your cheek and under your jaw. “Aren’t you so beautiful like this, sweetheart?” He slides his belt free and loops it around the back of your neck. With a harsh tug, he pulls your face to his crotch.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so you’re going to suck me off and then I’m going to send you out,” he explains. “But since you prepared such a nice present. Sit close to me during the meeting so it won’t be as boring. If you can make it through without needing to excuse yourself, we can just leave, maybe go back to my place and fuck over and over. I don’t need to explain to you what happens if you can’t resist, clear?”

“Crystal,” you slur, mouth smushed against the stiffening swell of Derek’s erection.

Derek releases the belt, leaving it hanging around your shoulders, and let you work at the button of his pants.

You lower yourself to sit back and to be in line with Derek’s hips.

Without answering, Derek opens his pants enough to pull himself free. His cock hangs heavily between the green flaps of his slacks, already hard enough to hook to the right. Leaving one hand loosely curled around himself, he presses the fingers of the other to your lips.

You part them, still looking up at your boss with starry eyes. Derek teases a finger along your bottom lip.

He chuckles brightly but a second later his entire face closes off. “What are you smiling for?” His voice sinks nearly a whole octave and, as expected, your tiny grin drops.

Breath quickening, you quickly lower your gaze and try to straighten your back impossibly more, the sound of Derek’s voice hitting that particular low knocking you into another level of submission.

The fingers at your lip hook over your teeth and pull his jaw open wider.

“Excited to have my dick?” Derek angles his dick up and rubs the shaft, already smelling thick with arousal, over the ball of your cheek.

Your eyes begin to glaze over where they’re glued to the fall of Derek’s light green or seawater tone dress shirt over the base of his cock. You try to blink yourself out of it, faintly aware of where the two of you are and your limits, but when the hand at your mouth leaves and drags back along your jaw to settle like an anchor at your nape, the desire to sink is so inviting.

“You’re my sweet, little cockslut, aren’t you?” Derek punctuates the question by slapping the side of your face with his dick, the sound made hollow by your open jaw. “Always so good for me.”

Sucking in a shuddering breath and letting your eyes drift shut again, you nod once. “Yes,” you exhale and turn your head to press your nose into Derek’s shaft.

Derek’s grip softens and he grazes lines into your skin. “Haven’t had you like this in a while,” he says, and then reestablishes the weight of his hand.

He presses the tip of his cock to your lips, which part once more without instruction, and slides into your mouth.

“That’s it,” Derek sighs. He draws out before guiding you down his length again, giving little time to allow his slut to relax. “Take all of it.”

The bit of coarse hair at Derek’s base that pokes out over the hem of his pants tickles your nose and if you hadn’t fallen deeper, you probably would have laughed. But you’re quiet as Derek holds your face flush against his hips that shallowly roll forward, pushing his cock as far into your mouth as his limits will allow.

He sighs again, more labored, and you peel open your eyes to glance up at him.

Derek’s own eyes trail up from where they were watching your mouth to meet his slut’s gaze.

You blink three times, your signal for an okay when he can’t use his hands or words.

Derek inches out, checks his hold on you, and slides back in, gaining speed and ending up choking you as he uses your mouth to get off.

And you take it so well, hollowing your cheeks on the backstroke and swallowing around the head of Derek’s cock when it bumps the back of your throat, even as the rough treatment steals the air from your lungs and builds tears in your eyes.

Sporadically, Derek murmurs a compliment in between the low groans and hushed curses, so proud of his precious advisor, his sweetheart — and every word makes you ache between his legs, makes your hands tighten where they’re clamped around your elbows, makes you skyrocket.

The ringing of Derek’s office phone goes ignored as he focuses on the moist warmth of his slut’s mouth and chasing his end. It’ll get him in trouble one day, maybe, but here in this moment, with your throat working around his dick in that way he likes and the blood in his veins singing, he can’t be bothered with caring.

Derek doesn’t always warn you before he comes, but you know all of the signs. Signs like how he presses his nails into your skin or how his left knee trembles the slightest bit. And when he sucks in his cheeks and hum, Derek comes warm and thick on your tongue.

Some of it leaks when Derek pulls out of your mouth, sliding over your swollen lips, but the older man is quick to catch it on a finger and feed it back to you.

“Tuck me in” Derek demands after you swallow, voice still husky but now light. The corners of his lips rise into a satiated smirk.

Unfolding your arms, you shake the crawling feeling out of them before tucking Derek back into his underwear and adjusting his pants. As he redoes the buttons, Derek rubs all over your neck, upper back, and shoulders. “Was I able to help?”

With a gruff he managed to pull you on his lap, not that you showed any sign of protest. “Not too bad so far. We’ll see how I feel later tonight”

All you do in response is tuck your nose into Derek’s throat and enjoys being held.

“Can’t wait,” you exhales.

Note: thanks for reading. Criticism is completely accepted

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courtingchaos · 5 months ago

Note

Anything with Steve! LOL

Dream Barista

Nightmare!Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

A/N: My dearest @bettyfrommars has let me borrow her Nightmare Steve for this little ditty. I’ve been thinking about the blurb she wrote for me during her prompt requests and I really just wanted to toss him in a situation. I’ve been suffering a bit in these first few weeks of summer so here’s a little spooky season for you.

No warnings!

18+ No Minors

“Do I know you?” You’ve been staring at the barista making your coffee for almost five-no…five minutes? Seriously how long has it been?

“Me? I’m not sure, I think I’d remember you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You frown when you say this, banter that feels weird in your mouth. Come to think of it your mouth just feels weird in general. Dry and cottony all of a sudden and a too big tongue. “I’m sorry, this is gonna sound stupid, but what did I order?” You’re eyes have not left this man but when he dips down to pull a container of oat milk out of the fridge there’s a flash of red, the back of his neck deep crimson under his fluffy brown hair.

He holds up a paper cup with your name scribbled on it. “Hazelnut Macchiato.”

There’s a huff behind you, a customer upset with their wait and the packed cafe probably, but you lean forward into the glass partition to get a closer look at the scribble. “I don’t usually get hot…drinks…” The black marks mean nothing. That isn’t your name and whatever has been written isn’t legible. Another huff behind you, closer now and you can feel the heat coming off of this person. “I don’t think that’s my drink.”

The barista suddenly seems nervous, eyes flicking behind you a few times before you catch his gaze again he smiles tightly at you. “This is gonna be stressful, I’m sorry.”

“I mean, it’s just an iced coffee.” You try to make a joke but it comes out more like a cough when one of those bodies behind you bumps you forward into the counter. Words knocked out of you in a puff you try to turn around to ask what their problem is when you notice the cafe is packed. Full to the brim, to the gills, with a crowd of black eyed anger. People in all states stare at you as their voices raise to yell about wasted time. Meetings they’re late to. Children they have to pick up. Useless employees who can’t move faster. Rooted to the spot you stare back at them and panic. This really is your worst nightmare when they start moving forward to press the counter and you do the only thing you can think to do; climb up and over the counter and partition, kicking the espresso machine and banging your knee on your way down the other side.

No other employees are there as steam wands continue to push steam and grinders pull beans. A clatter behind the register makes your head snap over and there is one barista, the brunette man that was making not your drink. He’s taller than he was a moment ago and you try to say sorry for climbing over the equipment and breaking about a hundred food safety rules but the flash in his fist makes you choke. Long bread knife pointed at you-no, past you, but he advances with an apologetic look pinching his face. That crowd that grew is suddenly climbing like you did and you decide to run for the swinging black door to the back, hoping that you’re not making a mistake. It’s cramped and twisted but the chaos behind you pushes you forward into the maze, especially when you catch sight of that knife behind you. The twists are sharp, too many to make any sense but you can’t think of that right now, you need to get to that back door. Find that cold air outside and the stretch of highway that has to be out there where you can run in the open and find someone, anyone.

Like a mirror in a funhouse that fire exit is right in front of you for you to slam your body into, hands grasping at the large push handle that won’t budge. Voices raise in a cacophony of accusations but one rings out clear with your name. Of course it would be the knife wielding possible red skinned barista but when he makes it to you it almost looks like he smiles at you. The handle pushes open suddenly with a hard slap of your palm and cold air fills your lungs just before you get taken out at the knees with the large trash bin. Tangled immediately in blue bags of grounds and paper cups you feel the bin roll. Fingers grasp for the edge of plastic that should be right there but instead you grapple with bags that try to drown you, right until they don’t. A large hand pushes through and grabs yours, pulls up hard and there he is.

“Time to get out of here, if you know what I mean.” He grins and suddenly it dawns on you as he looms over you with longer hair curling up behind his ears. Paper with string and then red skin and dark eyes. “Devil.”

“Yes! Devil!” He points at the enamel pin on his black apron, a little horned devil next to a grinning skull. “You do remember me.” He smiles even as the beating behind the heavy door continues, even when it bucks against his impossible hold on it. The bright joy takes over and you can feel yourself smiling too, right until you get a tingle up your spine. Hairs on the back of your neck stand upright just before the air smells of ozone and lighting strikes the blacktop next to you.

You barely scream before he’s pulling you out of the large bin and dragging you across a parking lot that seems to morph under your feet. The horde from inside streams out from the back door now but the asphalt buckles and craters as more of them follow. Somehow the two of you walk fine but these monsters seem less monstrous now as they fumble and fall, grasping onto one another for balance as the coffee house parking swallows them up in big black clouds of dust.

“Steve what is-”

“Hey, you remembered my name!” He turns back to you fast and you’re not sure if you see it right, if his eyes were black and then soft brown. They’re warm when they’re on you though, smile touching the crinkles in the corners.

“Of course, I just don’t…what is going on?” This has to be a dream. A nightmare actually when you think about the customers turned hungry mass and the thunder that has suddenly shown up. Before you can pull at him to slow down it’s like a switch is flipped. Rain falls in a sheet turning the world grey. “Steve hold on!” You have to shout over the din of the rain hitting the ground, spattering in the mud that your shoes are stuck in now and-

“Am I dreaming?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” It’s obvious now. Is this what lucid dreaming is? You look around to see the world has changed. Through the heavy rain you make out small hills around you, molding you and Steve into a valley wreathed in trees showing off their golden colors. Thick maple leaves cling to branches and wispy ginkgo flutter to the ground as the rain begins to lighten up. Your fingers still clutch at Steve’s but it’s only drawn him in closer, another shift in reality as he holds a leather jacket out to you from seemingly nowhere.

“Here, it’s gonna get a little cold.”

It’s warm like he’s been wearing it the whole time and he holds the collar up so you can slide your arms in. “I’m really confused.”

“I bought us a little more time.” He nods his head towards an incline and holds up an arm for you to fall under. “Not much, but enough for me to actually show you some stuff. No mermaids tonight though.”

“The face eaters?” You remember this suddenly, a motorcycle rumbling between your knees as you clung on for dear life before…before what you can’t remember that but it doesn’t matter right now. Steve is warm and he holds you against him as he takes you around a thicket of trees to a little set up.

“Did you make a picnic?”

“Kind of.” He’s bashful and you finger the pins on his lapel, nail tracing the raised edge of the devil horns. “More of a resting place.”

“Oh, morbid. I like it.” The flannel blanket is soft under you. The sunset burns oranges and purples in unrealistic hues and the trees around you drop endless leaves that tap lightly on their falls. Steve sits beside you, quiet and watching the side of your face, studious like you might disappear at any moment. If you’re right and this really is a dream, you suppose that could happen. Tonight though you’d taken some of those sleep gummies so maybe he’d be stuck with you for longer than planned.

“That doesn’t really have a lot of bearing on all of this.”

“Can you read my mind?” You ask with a laugh and sharp look. Steve shrugs and sighs before he winds a hand around your hip to pull you closer and back towards him where he falls backwards onto the blanket.

“A little?” He says it like a question but you find you don’t much care. Not with him it seems, not with this comfort you’ve found in sleep, something that has eluded you for most of your adult life. The sun isn’t setting like it should, it just hovers along the horizon and you watch little smudges of black flit across the light, either bats or birds or something other. Trying to get comfortable against Steve’s shoulder you realize your hair is still wet while the rest of you is dry like the grass around you.

“Sorry about that, I just needed a quick transition.” His smile is soft like his hair and his eyes and you feel lulled. Safe and comfortable like you’ve made a bed out of nature and him and dreams.

“I like the rain, it’s just sometimes the thunder scares me. Makes me feel like the world is gonna spin out.” You curl into his chest and catch a whiff of coffee for just a moment. Exhaustion pulls at your eyelids suddenly. “Were you…did you make me coffee earlier?” Sleep has caught you it would seem and you can feel how lax you go, fingers falling out of their places twisted in his shirt as his own grip tightens around your shoulders. Under the roasted scent there’s a latex smell, something sweet and aged with a hint of pumpkin. Cinnamon? God it smells like something you can’t put your finger on.

“Maybe. I do make a great a cup.” He’s quieter now as you seem to fade fast, his grip more secure as you relax further. “Next time I won’t chase you out with a bread knife, okay?” He whispers into the crown of your head and it gets a tired chuckle from you. “I’ll leave the thunder out too, I just needed you a little scared so I could get some more time.”

“No I liked the storm. Bring that back with you.” Another deep sigh before it feels like you’ve missed the last step into the basement and suddenly, you remember. “Halloween.”

“What?”

“Halloween boxes, decorations. It’s your mask.”

He feels your last words spoken into his shoulder as you mumble them against him and he can smell it now too. In your hair and his jacket, something sweet and warm that makes him think of aisles of masks and taper candles. Pumpkins that match the ever present deep sunset on this horizon and the dry leaves that stick to the damp, dying earth.

You’re gone before he realizes it and he slaps a hand down hard on the flannel blanket where you just were. The stage under him reverberates with his hit and the lights above him switch from warm tones to cool. He can’t linger for long, not when Ed has already brought more eyes down on this department, but he does linger. You remembered the mask and his name and next time? Next time you’ll remember the sunset and the warmth. When he stands and picks his jacket up he catches the fading scent you brought with you and he braces himself to leave the small sound stage.

Tomorrow night, he thinks to himself, tomorrow night I’ll bring you a sweeter sleep.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington Fluff #Steve Harrington x Reader #Nightmare Factory Steve #My Work #My Fic

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farity · 1 year ago

Text

In the Red of Night

Pairing: Modern!AU Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary: Aemond likes coffee. And sugar. And other things.

Warnings: Future smut.

He liked to think that after all this time, he was better than this.

But as dawn began to tint the sky in purples and pinks, Aemond Targaryen looked down at his hands, stained with dried blood, and told himself the worst lies were the ones you told yourself.

He stood, dusting off his black trousers, and headed back to his loft. The sun had begun to peek over the taller buildings by the time he turned onto his street. Despite myths and movies, sunlight wouldn’t burn him to ashes or make him sparkle. It did feel a little warmer than he liked and after a few minutes, his skin would be the bright pink that a normal pale person got after a day at the beach with no sun cream or protection, but given the fact that he had pale skin, not to mention the silver white hair that made most people do double takes, it was generally understood that he preferred to be in the shade.

He nodded at the doorman, who never questioned his hours, and headed for the private elevator around the corner. He pressed the button and the mechanism began its near silent whirr as it traveled up to the top floor.

Walking inside his front door, he began pulling off his shirt, throwing it into his bedroom hamper before he began unzipping his trousers. His bed was neatly made, since he hadn’t slept in it the previous night, and he finished undressing before he walked into his bathroom.

He let the cool water beat down on his head and back for a few minutes before he began scrubbing the blood off his skin. There wasn’t a lot of it, as he had long ago learned to not make a mess when he indulged, but it reminded him that he needed to be careful. His very appearance and physicality made him noticeable and he could not afford to stand out any more than he already did.

One of the many advantages of the modern world was the existence of coffee shops - he was addicted to the stuff. He also didn’t want to bother making it himself, and most shops had a quiet corner or two where he could work and watch people, and he wouldn’t be bothered.

He dressed in his usual greys and blacks, pulled a thin cashmere knit hat over his pale hair, and went downstairs. There was a coffee shop across the street from his building, and he had been waiting for the new owner to finish the remodeling and updating, and it was, finally, open for business. He’d waited for the initial rush to settle before he crossed the street and walked in.

It reminded him of a favorite bar he’d frequented in Paris long ago. The decor was timeless, with vases and objets d’art that were either priceless antiques or very good reproductions, set safely on high shelves. There was soft music playing, not the obnoxious litany of mumbling boys that sounded like they were barely awake - the 90s had been particularly trying music-wise - but, again, he thought back to the beginning of the previous century and felt that this place would have looked right at home then.

Of course, it had the latest technology, from the cameras to the outlets to accommodate several devices at every table. The pristine sterling steel machines kept up a steady stream of both coffee and a low hum of sound, and Aemond quickly found a corner where he could perch himself for the next couple of hours. He set down his laptop, placed his hoodie over it, and headed over to the counter, where several people managed to dodge each other’s arms as they worked to serve their customers.

There was a tempting array of cakes and pastries, and Aemond, who loved sugar almost as much as he loved a certain dark red liquid, immediately chose a chocolate cake with what looked like hazelnuts on top.

“Eyeing the chocolate praline, are we?”

He looked up at the cheerful voice and his eyes landed on a pair of green eyes, crinkling at the corners, as they studied him.

“Is it made in house?”

“Of course, that one is made by me, actually. Chocolate hazelnut praline, it’s a popular one. Some coffee along with your cake?”

He nodded. “Black, whatever you think will go best with it, and seven sugars.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, “okay, then,” she smiled. “please don’t damage the walls when you start bouncing off of them later.”

She turned to grab a plate and start brewing some coffee while he immediately began to think of all the ways he could damage the walls. Most of them involved having her legs wrapped around him, and he blinked, pushing the thought away when she turned back to him.

“Will there be anything else?”

“Hmm. Not for now, I’ll be doing some work and probably get something else later.”

She nodded and rang up his purchase. If she was impressed by the heavy, black-finish credit card he handed her, she gave no sign. “I’ll bring it over in a minute.” She smiled at him and turned to greet another customer.

* * * * *

You’d seen him a couple of times before, during the last couple of weeks as you put the final touches on the coffee shop. The hair, obviously, had caught your attention, and the fact that he was so tall. He lived across the street and you hoped he’d become a regular, start building your little clientele, have your core group of customers as well as the more casual buyers.

He had a very, very nice ass, you thought, glancing discreetly as he walked away. Lean and rangy, he had covered his hair today, and in his dark clothes blended in pretty well within the little corner he’d chosen. You grabbed his coffee, a bowl with extra sugars, and his cake, and took it all over to his table. “Here you are, let me know if you need anything else,” you smiled. He had the most lovely shade of eyes, somewhere between dark blue and purple.

“Thank you, I will.”

You really wanted to stay and trace your fingertip over every sharp edge of that stunning face, the wide lips, the faded scar over his eye. Instead, you turned back to your counter and your customers, and decided to later find out more about the sugar fiend who had just come in to your shop.

* * * * *

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern!aemond #aemond x you #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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deffnotweird · 3 days ago

Text

Machine Error:

November sixteen twenty-seventy five, the weather in New York was incredibly cold, despite this, Michael had to get a haircut, for in just two days he would be holding a big presentation for his associates in Norway. Michael was a big shot in his company, sales executive at just 23 years old, he loved seeing all the older guys at the company getting frustrated whenever he was assigned a big project. His hazelnut hair was quite long, going over his shoulders, he hated tying them up in a bun when at the office, but he always put his professional appearance over his own comfort. Which is exactly why he decided to cut them, this new project was bigger and far more important than anything else he’d ever worked on, nothing could be out of place. And so, while it pained Michael to lose his beloved locks, he decided that it was the best course of action for his career.

On Saturday he took a cab to a nearby automated barbershop, the mechanical precision was exactly what Michael needed. While the roads were quite busy, that barbershop was completely empty that day, the hair-cutting machines being the only moving thing there, he was greeted by a robotic voice: “Welcome, please take a seat at station number two”, Michael thought it was odd that he wasn’t directed to station one, after all nobody else was there, but he didn’t pay it much mind. After sitting another automated voice asked him to select a cut on the screen standing in front of him, the screen was pretty old, twenty-sixty nine model at least, probably even older. He looked at himself in the mirror, picturing something that would look good on him, in the end he decided to go for a classic business cut, short on top, shorter on the sides, searching through the catalogue on the screen he found the exact style he wanted, Mike tried to select it a few times but it seemed to have severe input lag, for a moment he thought “wow, I chose a really shitty place for my haircut, the reviews seemed high enough, must’ve been boosted by bots, fucking shameless”. Despite his discontent he hanged back and prepared himself for his cut: “People who run businesses like these should be in prison”. The machine picked up on his words, “activating prisoner mode”, suddenly a metal collar wrapped itself around the neck of the businessman, “woah woah, what the fuck, stop this!” he said as he tried to pry open the collar with his hands, this proved to be futile however, as the chair just sent out a shock through the collar, hurting the man “FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK?!”, another robot voice scolded him “Please, refrain from struggling and stand still.” Michael was beyond pissed off, but he didn’t have much choice, he hanged back and waited for the machine to finish working on him. While the man expected the cut to be mediocre, it actually turned out pretty well, nevertheless his anger hadn’t diminished “My old man is a lawyer, this place is getting shut down you can bet on it!” the machine once more picked up on his words “you have chosen the ‘old man cut’”, Michael had fucked up, he saw the clippers getting close and tried to once more pry open the collar that prevented him to move, this time however the shock was much greater.

The “prisoner mode” was used by jails and prisons who didn’t have a dedicated room for haircuts, while almost none of the prisons met this criteria, the function was still added to the “Trim-m3”. As was the norm with convict treatments all around the world, the punishment for continued misconduct was severe, therefore inmates getting a haircut would be rendered unconscious in case they didn’t behave, such a function was actually debated to be inhumane by many activists, but court ruled in favor of it and so it ended up in almost every hair-cutting machine made from twenty-fifty six onwards.

While the unfortunate man was knocked out cold, the machine worked swiftly and efficiently on his head, firstly the clippers ran through the hair at the top of his head, turning it into a really short stubble, afterwards, shaving cream was lathered over the stubbles and and a straight razor was used to clean it all up. In the end “Hair-no” gel, a miraculous invention made by and for bald-by-choice people (but mostly used by models to get rid of body hairs permanently), was put on the freshly shaven scalp, after making it sit there for three minutes, the hardened gel was ripped off, removing any follicle with a one-hundred precent accuracy and making it so nothing could grow there ever again. After a few minutes, Michael woke up on the chair, the collar had retreated and he could once again stand up, only that wasn’t the first thing he noticed, waking up Michael saw the mirror in front of him, showing off his freshly shaven scalp and his stylish male-pattern-baldness cut. Michael had no words, he sat there staring at the mirror in disbelief, rubbing his scalp as the machine repeated “your cut is done and we hope you’re satisfied, please stand up and head over to the entrance for payment.” the man wanted to get out without paying, but he thought it better to just head home and immediately book an hair transplant appointment, before his big presentation on Monday.

In the cab home he looked at the floor of the car, while he kept feeling the baldness of his head, finally letting out a meek “what the fuck…”. At home he called 7 transplant clinics, but none of them were available for Sunday, with the earliest one being available four months from then. He thought of shaving it all off, but before he did, he searched up the shop once more, it turned out the shop was using quite outdated hardware, with the controlling AI model being notoriously buggy and a pain to deal with. Michael was tired, but before he went to sleep he ordered some Clippers, shaving cream and Razors on Amazon, since they would arrive tomorrow he still had the chance to look presentable with a full bald head instead of the male pattern baldness cut he was currently rocking.

Sunday came and went, and it was time for his big presentation, the items he ordered however had never arrived, an error in the drones' softwares caused several delayed packages, inclduing his. He chose instead to just wear an old hat, hoping nobody would ask him to take it off. He sat down in the meeting room, central seat, the one he was so excited to be sitting on just a few days ago had become his most dreaded moment, his boss asked him what was the deal with the hat, in truth everyone in that room was quite curious about Mike’s sudden change in behavior, that wasn’t the long haired hot-shot they were used to, but a meek guy almost trembling in his chair. Some thought he was sick while others figured he was having performance anxiety, he tried dodging their questions multiple times, but in the end was cordially asked to remove it by his boss to remove it. As the hat came off everyone stood in silence, dumbfounded about this odd choice of hair, what was he thinking after all? Friday he’s got a ponytail and Monday he’s balding? The silence remained until the presentation was about to start, Michael was worrying intensely about what will happen in just a few minutes and sweating profusely at everything that just happened. But just a few second before the presentation he took a deep breath and regained his confidence. The presentation went smoothly, the Norwegians were a bit surprised to see a balding man speaking as they were expecting a young twenty-three years old guy, nevertheless they didn’t make a comment about it.

Months passed, and Michael was still receiving all the best projects, his deal with the Norwegians went through and was a huge success, despite this, his hairstyle had not changed, the older executives would call him “Old Man Mike”, and had taken a liking to him, bringing him out for drinks and mocking his odd hairstyle, all of them had a full head of hair despite being much older than him after all, the businessman didn’t mind, he thought that perhaps this look was just what he’d always needed, and to think he got it just because a machine couldn’t do his job properly! Soon he became really intimate with another executive, Ethan, he was a really sweet guy and had really taken a liking to Mike after what everyone called “The Norwegian Cut Incident”, being the first to offer to have a drink with him after work. For the older guy’s birthday Michael took him to a place that after everything that happened ended up being really special to him. “Welcome, please take a seat at station number two”.

#gay #bdsmkink #bdsmblog #forced haircut #forced headshave #mpb #male pattern baldness

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buckingham-truther · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter One

Characters: Robin Buckley & Chrissy Cunningham. Background Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson

Summary: Just a cute little coffee shop AU

Word Count: 1056

Warnings: None for this chapter

A/N: This story is very much a work in progress, I have almost no plan for it and so please keep this in mind when reading future chapters. The warning may appear as the plot develops.

The gentle hum of the coffee machine and the talk of customers over it allowed Robin to get too far into her head over the disaster of a date she had been on last night. Becky had been lovely enough but Robin wasn’t sure anything would come of it, something just wasn’t right between the two and she didn’t seem to appreciate Robin's sense of humour.

Steve had been lovely enough and had cut his nightly facetime with Eddie short when she turned up after it, bottle of wine in hand. He assured her that if someone was worth her time she wouldn’t need to hide any part of her. That ‘ her person’ wouldn’t cringe when she stumbled out of the door at the end of the date. She felt bad for interrupting his and Eddie’s evening given that Eddie was on tour and this was one of the few evenings he wasn’t on stage but it was an unwritten rule that Robin came first for Steve and the band came first for Eddie.

A jingle from the bell above the door pulled Robin out of her thoughts and she stepped towards the counter and looked up, into the most beautiful blueish grey eyes she had ever seen set into what only she could describe as the face of an angel with a halo of strawberry blonde hair.

“Wow,” She whispered, “Welcome to Bakin ‘n’ Robins, what can I get you this morning?” Robin asked finally, after what she was sure was too long of a pause.

“Erm can I just take a hazelnut latte with almond milk please? And maybe whatever your favourite from the bakery section is” the woman smiled and didn’t that just make her even more stunning..

“Sure, coming right up. It’ll be $6.70 when you’re ready, cash or card?” Robin said as she tapped it all in the till, she was so glad this was all muscle memory at this point because she was sure there wasn't currently a thought in her head aside from how gorgeous this woman was.

“Card please” The woman smiled again and tapped her card on the reader when Robin indicated.

“Take away or to sit in?” Robin remembered to ask before stepping away to make the order.

“I’ll sit in please, this seems like a super cute place to sit and read” she said, patting the book Robin had failed to notice in her arms.

“You go and find a seat, I’ll bring it over to you” Robin nodded towards the selection of tables they had.

“Table service too, thank you.” she giggled and walked away.

“Who was that?” A voice came from beside her as she started to make the coffee.

“Jesus Christ!” Robin quietly exclaimed, almost dropping the mug she was holding, “Do you need to sneak everywhere?”

“I literally dropped the opening on the counter so hard,” Steve, her partner in this coffee shop, laughed from beside her. “So, who is she?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen her before but she’s super pretty ok so I’m naturally going to do something like spill her drink all over her or drop her baked goods on the floor. Or even forget how to speak as I get there and just throw the whole tray at her and run” Robin started to ramble.

“Okay okay stop right now” Steve interrupted her, “You sort her the rest of her order and I’ll do the latte, I’ve got you sorted okay” he winked at her nudging her out of the way with his hip.

Less than 5 minutes later Robin was walking towards the blonde trying her best to hold the tray as steady as possible. She had found the biggest and freshest almond knott and Steve had made a heart with the milk on her latte, it was a perfectly solid heart too, he was just showing off now.

“Oh, thank you” The woman squeaked as Robin placed the tray down, it seemed to have pulled her from a deep thought. “This all looks wonderful” She grinned when she looked down and saw the latte.

“Enjoy” Robin smiled as she walked away.

“I can’t believe you did the heart!” She hissed as she got behind the counter again, smacking Steve lightly on the arm as she walked past him.

“Did she like it though?” he grinned “She watched you the whole time you walked back and she still keeps glancing over, I think you’re in there birdie. Anyway I need to start prep work on the pastry for the next batch of baked goods. Can you do the stocktake of the things behind here and I’ll get El and Max to do the stockroom tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sure, I’ll get that done and make sure it’s all okay for Dustin to come in to take over from me.” She replied.

“Thank you,” he said loudly as he walked from behind the counter and to the back where the kitchen was. His pride and joy, the reason he wanted this all along.

Robin spent the rest of the day thinking of the women from that morning. Trying to think if there had been any clues as to who she was or anything else about her.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Steve declared as he walked into her apartment one evening a few days later, before throwing a small package at her.

“Thanks,” She mumbled as she tried to catch it.

Opening it up she noticed it was a name badge, her name was written on it along with her pronouns and a tiny lesbian flag on it.

“Oh, this is so cute, thank you” She said as she launched herself at him.

“I’ve heard that the blonde from the other day has been back a couple more times, only ever getting take-away after looking around. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her know your name and that she’s got a chance. I’ve had them made up for all of us. I really liked the idea when I saw them ages ago and just kept putting it off. I felt like the pride flags around the place were enough to let people know we’re a safe space but you and this girl gave me the excuse I was looking for to get these” Steve shrugged.

#buckingham #robin buckley #robin x chrissy #chrissy x robin #stranger things #bandcheer #coffee shop au #Lattes and Love #fanfiction #sapphic fiction #buckingham fiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

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soulofapatrick · 2 years ago

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More Than A Friend - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Sarah is getting bored of you and Joel dancing around your feeling for each other (it’s been happening for 3 1/2 years) so her and Tommy come up with a way to get you two together

Words:

Warning: none (I don’t think there's any)

Notes (edited) A smutty part two has be made as people wanted it (link at bottom)

Y/N’s POV

The house is quiet stepping inside except for the coffee machine gurgling as if expecting me, my shoes being kicked off by the door and keys hung on the pegs. Making my way through the house to the coffee machine in the kitchen I’m greeted by a mess of hazelnut curls and the sweetest smile ever, a mug of freshly poured coffee being forced into my hands unexpectedly.

“I came to see you and heard the yelling through the door.” Sarah tells me sheepishly and I just put the coffee on the counter and sink to my knees, pulling her into a tight hug. She doesn’t question it, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and hugging me back just as tightly as if trying to hold my cracking pieces together and it works for now. I don’t know how this girl stays so happy in a world driven by hatred and violence, especially after the threat of another pandemic. She’s always bright and bubbly and everything I need on the days that are grey.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that peanut.” I smooth her hair out of her eyes before pulling myself to my feet. She surprises me but barrelling into me with another hug, arm wrapped tightly around my waist and head resting over my heart and I’m biting my lip to keep the tears burning behind my eyes at bay. She’s only fifteen, she doesn’t need this weight on her shoulders, she’s got the weight of being a teenager already.

“It’s okay,” She steps away, forcing the cup into my hands again and guiding me up the stairs as she speaks, “I’m sorry you’re having to go through it all. Your sister sounds nice though, you could give her a chance.”

“I-“ I’m sighing, letting her lead me down the corridor, past her room and the spare room, stopping outside Joel’s room, “I might do.” She just nods softly, pushing open the door to her dad’s room and pulling me inside until she can make me sit on his bed. His room is full of random things but everything screams Joel like the two acoustic guitars hung up on the wall, framed posters for Lord of the Rings and The Dark Knight along another wall and photos of him, Tommy and Sarah dotted around the room. The walls are a baby blue and his sheets a cream colour. The chest of drawers has a mess of things on it, an old CD player and just random tools like a screwdriver and some of his favourite CDs, a bunch of loose change. There’s a exercise bike in the corner and a bed side table pressed between the bed and the wall either side of the bed, the windows big and letting the late afternoon light come flooding in, illuminating his room.

Sarah moves over to there dad’s chest of drawers and pulls out a clean shirt and some boxers, handing them to me and taking the now empty coffee cup leaving me staring after her. When did she get so mature in the four years I’ve lived across the street from them? It’s like I’ve blinked and missed it as she bustles around me, making sure I’m comfortable and not upset before she hugs me once more and is gone with the quiet click of the bedroom door.

All I can do is stare at the clothes in my hand, trying to process anything other than the quiet ache in my chest at missing my sister but I can’t do anything about it. Acting on instinct I’m stripping down to just my bra and slipping his soft shirt over my head and pulling on the boxers before slipping under Joel’s duvet, a sigh escaping me as it smells like him: burnt coffee, a woodsy musk and something citrusy. It has me burying my face in his pillow and letting the exhaustion take over, putting my phone on the bed side table before the world fades away.

The slamming of the front door jolts me awake in a panic, unsure where I am as it’s dark outside until Tommy’s booming voice lulls me back to reality. It’s okay, I’m at the Miller��s house, in Joel’s bed and the footsteps ascending the stairs has my heart in my chest as I don’t know how Joel will react to me being in his bed instead of the spare room. He wasn’t here and I needed the comfort and Sarah seemed to have understood that, her being the reason I’m in here and-

“Y/N? Darlin’, you awake?” The door creaks open and Joel’s southern drawl warms my body, a chuckle leaving him when I just let out a small sound of acknowledgement and bury my face back in his pillow, “Can I turn the light on?” I whine, hearing the door shut again and him shuffling around, getting closer, voice gentle and like honey, “Okay, okay, let me turn the small one on instead.”

I have to squeeze my eyes shut, blinking a few times as I try to adjust to the suddenly brightness, pulling myself up and searching for him, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. He’s still in the tee shirt and flannel I saw him leave in this morning, broad shoulders rolling as he tries to relax them and his chocolate brown hair even curlier than usual, tanned skin covered in streaks of plaster and wood chips making me snort as how can he look so good yet so messy at the same time. The sound has him turning a little so he can see me, plump lips full and curved into a gentle smile and honey eyes full of warm and admiration that has me blushing like a schoolgirl. His beard neatly trimmed and I want to scratch my nails through it, wondering if he’d make any sounds over it but I don’t. Instead, I’m sitting on my hands, both of us just taking the other person in.

“I like your shirt,” His smile widens a little when I feel my cheeks heating up, “You should keep it.”

“Joel,” I choke out, suddenly feeling every emotion crashing down on me and it’s like all of his features soften at once and he’s moving closer. His strong arms wrap me up in a hug I didn’t know I needed, my fingers bunching the edges of his open flannel and face buried in the crook of his neck as his pillowy lips press reassuringly against the side of my head, “I-I…” He hushes me gently, fingers running through my bedhead comfortingly and we just sit like this for god knows how long, relishing in each others presence and to needing to say anything to understand what the other needs. He’s so gentle and loving towards me in the three and half years of friendship we have and I wish he knew I have wanted to be more than friends for most of that time.

——

I met the Miller brothers not long after moving in, Sarah inviting herself over with freshly baked cookies and I let her in. She had immediately shoved the cookies into my hand and begin exploring my house, calling down the stairs that her dad and uncle were carpenters and that she’d go get them to fix the rickety banisters and every else wrong with this house. She wasn’t wrong, I had bought it cheap and knew that meant it came with things that would need fixing but I didn’t expect this bright, sunshine kid to do exactly that. She had waltzed back out of the house and I had to hurriedly make the kitchen somewhat presentable, putting the kettle on and storing the cookies in an airtight container so they’re keep for longer.

Tommy had swept me up into a surprising hug as soon as I opened the front door, telling me, “Any friend of Sarah’s is a friend of mine. She’s a great judge of character.” He held me at arms length and grinned a breathtaking smile at me that I’m sure most girls would swoon at but at the time I wasn’t looking for anything like that.

“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Y/N. You don’t have to do any of this.” I pulled away from his grip, noticing the small frown shared between Tommy and Joel. Tommy’s handsome, sun kissed skin, freckles, curly black hair and cognac eyes that could melt the hearts of anyone who looked into them but he seems to know this and the cockiness of his action puts me off any crush or romantic feelings for him I could ever have for the younger Miller. Joel on the other hand?

“It’s the least we could do to welcome a new neighbour.” Joel spoke up, voice deep and gruff but no less warm and welcoming. It sent butterflies wild in my chest and I had to look away, hiding the small smile drawing itself on my lips. He’s carved by the gods themselves, tanned skin, broad frame and honey eyes that seem to be open and honest. His curly brown hair sends me in a spiral of what would it feel like to tangle my hands in it and pull and how would the matching beard feel against my skin? I have to turn away before I get carried away, focusing on Sarah as she bounds past the two brothers, ignoring Joel’s scolding of her to not just wander into someone’s home. She ignores him and heads for my kitchen while Joel just rubs a hand over his face and sighs, “I’m sorry about Sarah.”

“No, no, it’s absolutely okay,” I can’t stop the smile now, watching the way Sarah runs her fingertips over the counter tops before pulling out a photo from one of the boxes, eyes brightening even more as she learns more about me, “You both seem like the coffee type. I’m guessing, black coffee for you,” I address Joel first and he raises an eyebrow in an impressed way, before I turn to Tommy, “Two sugars and little bit of milk?”

“Fuckin’ hell darlin’ you’re a wizard,” Tommy flashes that grin at me again as if testing the waters to see if it works the second time and I can’t hide the snort before turning and heading to join Sarah in the kitchen, hearing the brothers begin to bicker as they set to work with whatever they see fit to do with the house. Sarah helps me make their drinks and then suggests she help me unpack and from there on out I new I had made some lifelong friends.

——

“Shower is empty,” Tommy’s poking his head into the room, curls damp and stuck to his forehead, a soft smile on his lips as he sees Joel hugging me, “You wanna join me and Sarah while Joel showers?”

“Yeah okay.” I nod, hesitantly unwrapping myself from Joel and slipping out from under the covers to pull on the sweatpants I was wearing earlier. I’m throwing a soft smile at Joel who has a rosy hue to his cheeks as he smiles almost shyly back before following Tommy downstairs. He makes me sit on the sofa between him and Sarah, both of them turning to me with determination in their eyes and I’m swallowing hard.

“Uncle Tommy and I are going bowling tonight so you can make a move on dad and hurry up and become my stepmom,” Sarah blurts out and I’m choking on air, Tommy chuckling and rubbing my back. I’m only just noticing the pair of them are dressed and ready to go out, shoes and coats on and everything, “You better have made a move on him by the time we get back or I will do it for you, got it?”

“G-got it,” The kid scares me sometimes and this is one of them. The determination and threat in her dark eyes has me squirming in my seat. Tommy’s just laughing heartily, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling my back against his chest, pressing his forehead to the side of my face and rocking me in the hug before him and Sarah are getting up, “Wait, you’re going now?”

“Yep.” Sarah beams and Tommy’s pressing a quick kiss to my forehead then the pair are gone with the bang of the front door, their giggling heard the whole way to the car and I’m stuck, frozen on the couch long after the sound of the car has faded to silence.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to appear at the bottom of the stairs, brows drawn into a frown as his honey eyes search for Tommy and Sarah only finding me sill on the couch where the pair left me. He looks good, hair damp from the shower, grey sweatpants on that don’t leave much to the imagination, the teeshirt stretching over his broad and firm build too. I can’t draw my eyes away from his sweatpants, no matter how red my cheeks get as Sarah’s words echo through my mind. The worst that could happen is we have an awkward month or so before we’d fall back into the weird routine we have. My body is reacting, leaving my mind behind as I follow him into the kitchen where he’s made a bee line for the coffee machine. I want to spin him around and press him against the counter and kiss him senseless but my hands falter and I’m pulling myself to sit on the counter next to him instead. The coffee machine begins gurgling again before the sweet aroma of coffee fills the air and too soon his honey eyes are boring into mine as he moves between my legs, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him when he asks, “Where are Tommy and Sarah?”

“Bowling.” I choke out, my body reacting to the way his large hands settle on my thighs and the familiar smell of the coffee mixes with the cherry shampoo he’s used. It’s intoxicating and I think I forget how to breath as my mind blanks of everything except Joel.

“Without us?” He frowns, a small pout of those perfectly plump and wet limps and it’s like my self-control snaps. One of my hands reaches up and tangles in his hair, pulling his head back hard and his eyes widen a moan leaving his throat before my lips are on his. He seems stuck and I’m scared I overstepped our boundaries but his hands are moving up my thighs to my hips and his lips begin to move against mine. His thumbs circle the skin on my hips and he slows the kiss, my grip loosening on his hair as he tilts his head a little to get a better angle. He tastes of coffee and strawberries and it’s addictive, the kiss being sweet and soft and all consuming. His forehead falling to my shoulder when he have to pull away, chests heaving and gasping in air. His pants turn into warm chuckles that rumble through his chest as he asks, “Did they set us up?”

“Sarah’s scary.” I mumble and he laughs properly, face in the crook of my neck and arms moving to wrap around my waist in a hug. It’s nice, nothing feeling any different to us and I just melt into his embrace and rest my head against his. We stay like that for however long it takes for the coffee to brew, the soft ping drawing Joel up and out of my arms. I watch the way his shoulders ripple and flex under his tight shirt when he reaches up to pull two cups from the cupboard before he’s returning to my side and pouring a cup each. He rummages through the cupboard above the coffee machine, a light “ah-ha!” falling from his sweet lips as he hold up caramel sauce. A warmth fills my chest as he bought caramel sauce just for me as he knows I love having it with my coffee, teasing me about not liking plain black coffee at first.

“Can I kiss you again?” It slips from my lips suddenly, surprising me and drawing a breathtaking smile from Joel. He abandons our coffees and slots himself back between my legs, calloused hand cupping my cheek and a small sound falling from his lips when I lean into his hand before he’s drawing me up into an even sweeter kiss than before. Never will there be a time I will get sick of kissing him, wanting to always feel those pillowy lips on mine forever. I don’t care where he kisses me just as long as his lips are on my skin, leaving searing trails behind him with every soft drag of them. His featherlight fingers slip under my shirt, brushing up and down my stomach and sides as if trying to map out and memorise every inch of me.

“You can kiss me whenever and as much as you want to darlin’” He breathes, forehead against mine and thumb caressing my cheek. His actions full of love and a warmth I never expected to ever get from Joel, “Seeing at they’ve left us alone…” He’s pulling back enough to meet my gaze, the honey colour a dark and endless pool now as he tugs his bottom lip between his lips before he’s finishing that sentence, “How about we get to know each other a bit more?”

“Fuck Joel.” I’m nodding embarrassingly quickly and he’s wrapping his arms around me, pulling me off the counter and heading back up the stairs, lips on mine hungrily but with no less love and adoration behind it. We have hours ahead of us and I intend to use every last second on all the years I’ve missed out on him.

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

Part Two ⇢ More Than Just A Lover

TAGS: Tag List Form

@words-are-cheap @clover723 @a-psych0s-w0rld @sexyvixen7 @iraot @gemimawrites @pedropascalsrealhusband @twopercentmilk @amythenortherner @sxnshinebxcky @nelsoomon @urnewghostfriend @grooveandshit @reyas-world @canpillowscry @androgynoysgaz @outl4wage @ginger-swag-rapunzel @quinnverses @librafilms @leonkennedyslefthand @notsosecretspy @intergalacticspacemonkey @certifiedhunter @yourmommilf @mediocrewallflow3r @thesapphirequeen @randomhoex @secretsthathauntus

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skeleton-mischief · 8 months ago

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Coffee Serrif

Does it really matter? No, but that doesn't mean that you're safe from his ever watching eyes

*FS!Gold Papyrus has said enough

- Official height is 6'4

- He/They

- Selectively mute

- Would play the Drums

- An artist, he has a box filled with old sketchbooks and still gets more even now. His favorite is using charcoal

- Consumes Whipped Cream

- Feels insecure in his friendships, since he doesn't only struggle socializing, but he isn't sure when someone actually is sincere with their interest

- Good friends with Rus, Stretch, and Cash

- Grows bashful from praise, he can't handle it

- Empathetic, kind, open minded, creative, timid, passive, intuitive, will avoid fights, pessimistic, impatient, reserved, and sensitive

- A cat person, he's a hub for them

- Video game expert genius. Would be excellent if you handed him a new game and controller

- Uses notes to communicate, if he talks he stutters and messes up frequently

- Curses rarely, only a handful of times

- A master sharpshooter who was taught by Wine

- Loves coffee drowned with whipped cream and caramel

- Likes chocolate, loves dark chocolate the most though or caramel chocolate

- Loves eating rye bread

- Once close with someone, he adores physical affection and is clingy

- Doesn't admit his frustration when Wine constantly tries to do everything for him, since he likes to do things on his own sometimes

- Grew to see Razz, Carmine, and Powder as role models overtime

- Knows sign language

- Wears gloves due to his sensitivity

- Stims with his hands

- Doesn't smoke often, but he uses matches when he does

- magic smells like hazelnut, magic tastes like toffee

- A soft romantic

- Prefers handshakes

- likes Hello Kitty, his favorite character is Choco

- Calls Chara "Kitty" because they're small and remind him of a cat (it's fucking cute bro)

- Cries vary in quality often, he cries a lot

- Would call his lover peaches

- He doesn't seem like it, but he's physically pretty agile and strong. He gets irritated when he's belittled

- Sometimes, when frustrated, he'll actively ignore someone or throw something to get them to shut up

- He can't be bothered with doing a lot of things, such as drinking or partying

- He loves any sort of video games and is an excellent gamer. The moment someone shows interest, he'd have to be reassured that he's not talking too much

- He's curious of humans, but he doesn't blindly trust them

- He doesn't judge others and often is a silent observer to figure out his opinion of them

- He has very acute senses, and he'll dodge drama as soon as it's present. He slips away with whoever he's spending time with easily

- When meeting Chara, he had a piece of paper with a smiling face as he was overly friendly as he joked how to greet another human despite his terrifying aura

- Very internet savvy, he's dangerous since he can hack into anything for information

- Like every swapfell variant of Papyri, he loves fast food

- He can be very mischievous, him and Rus are very slick with their pranks

- his hoodie changes what it says based off what he's feeling

- He has a black list which is to identify who is considered an enemy and who he watches. You do not want to be on that

- He visits multiple locations, but when he's in public he usually stalks around the corners without feeling the need to say something

- He's very well educated and can be seen reading up on mechanical engineering, he gave up working on the machine however

- He doesn't remember Gaster, except for faint sensations and memories in his dreams. They're never pleasant

- He doesn't actually like the Queen, but he works for her and knows how to behave in her presence

- He always has a hood or something on his head, he doesn't like it being bare

- His eyelights don't frequently light up unless he is surprised or feeling an intense emotion, such as crying or getting flustered. His magic is much smoother(?) in appearance and yet can feel more intense

Closing Notes: i honestly want to flesh him out more than what I have for him. He's fun and I love his character, this might be updated or something since he's just sooooooo- OURGH

#headcanon #undertale au #alternate universe #fellswap gold #fellswap gold papyrus #papyrus au #hes so silly #i wish a proshipper didn't make him #i wish him the best #hes so babygirl

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dogcodedcatboy · 5 months ago

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rrandom roman headcanons / traits / inane rambling cause im thinkin about him. some of these r supported by canon, some are literally just me playing toys. i have probably mentioned this all before. but. dont caare.

- roman likes sci-fi/space media. robots, ai, aliens. big fan. this is all of course written off by him as nerd shit but he secretly enjoys it. definitely more of a star Wars guy instead of a Star trek guy (who gives a fuck abt space diplomacy??? therr better be explosions + shitty cgi spaceship fights or hes getting bored and walking away from the tv). alien is one of his favorite horror movies. probably watched westworld.

- ik its like a throwaway in the show that he's given the rocket launch to be in charge of but i think itd be cute if he actually liked space. not that he knows anything about the science i just think he thinks its neat. has definitely fallen asleep on the couch to some space documentaries

- other media tastes include whodunits/mysteries. not necessarily for the murder part (i think he prefers heists bc they are less gory and more silly). he really likes the interactive aspect of bothering his boyfriend getting to guess how the story will end

- i think he is v v squeamish abt blood/gore irl and with media. less so his own but others. not very helpful if someone nearby is injured, the most he can offer is some mild reassurances but could never, like, provide any helpful first aid. he hides his face in aarons shoulder when a movie is particularly gory.

- roman has adhd (among other things) and has a hard time focusing on certain tasks. he gets bored easily and just kind jumps from thing to thing. he also loses his stuff frequently and benefits immensely from having a type-a lunatic following him around and keeping track of where he leaves his keys and wallet.

-he's not /messy/ per say. he likes his spaces immaculately neat (because,. hes always had housekeepers...) in absence of that he is Kinda bad at keeping things under control and is woefully unprepared to be a human due to the chronic and incurable rich dandyboy disease. grossed out by washing dishes. has definitely fucked up somehow and flooded aarons apartment while trying to use the washing machine.

- he cannot cook to save his life. again. personal chef, never had to do it for himself. obviously knows how to like. boil pasta and stuff but is so horrifically bad at it. he only needs to employ the tiniest bit of weaponized incompetence and aaron will take over anyway

- roman likes crunchy salty snacks (chips/pretzels/popcorn/etc) but also has a sweet tooth :3c he likes mostly fruity sweets, sour candy, baked goods with berries + lemons and stuff like that. i think he likes mocha, or really any use of espresso in desserts. BIG fan of salty sweet combo ... salted caramel is a favorite. also anything w nuts. he loves hazelnut in particular (nutella right out of the jar in moments of weakness) ... also floral flavors

- he's not a picky eater per say. he's open to eating a lot of different stuff bc he grew up traveling. but his tastes are /expensive/. aaron can easily get him to try weird foods if they're somewhere fancy, but had to literally bribe him in to trying fuckin panda express (even tho he loves noodles. the chain restaurant for commoners is too scary)

#my stuff #i guess im just tagging it so i can find it again if i want

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aurumacadicus · 10 months ago

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6, 34, and 50 for the ask meme! 🌺

6. Describe your dream home.

I fucking hate yard work so I'm thinking either a house on a plot small enough I can pay someone else to take care of it or a condo. I'm thinking two bedroom at the smallest, so I could make one a guest/craft room. I think a Murphy bed would be cool and I'd like to set up my sewing machine so I could use it whenever I wanted. I'd also like to put up cat stuff so my cats could traverse the walls and have windows to lounge in front of. If I went for a condo, I'd make sure it had really good amenities.

34. What’s your coffee order?

The problem is what isn't my coffee order. I'll try everything once. New flavor out? Sure. That being said I like hazelnut and caramel, and during the summer I like to make my own cold brews and making homemade cold foam. During the colder months I'll just make regular drip (I like getting mine from the Awesome Coffee Club, you can read more about it here: https://good.store/pages/awesome-coffee I use medium roast currently but! I'm considering going to the lighter roast because I do like blonder roasts in general.) and then just adding some homemade syrups. I like making my own pumpkin spice, hazelnut, and caramel syrups, but I'd be open to trying others if people gave suggestions (if you sent me a recipe and were like "I wanna try this but don't want to waste money/time on something I'm not sure of :(" and it sounded good I'd be willing to make it and describe both the cooking and tasting process lmao I'm a garbage disposal).

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather?

Overcast, seventy-five with a breeze. Low humidity. Or cold outside and me warm inside with my wool socks, blanket, and a fire going in the fireplace.

#aurumacadicus answers #ironarmortony #be nosy meme

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allyftt · 2 years ago

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Coffee au - Cyno x reader

February 14, Valentine's day..

The worst day of the year if you were to say it yourself. It's the day when the coffee shop you worked at was full of couples who just couldn’t respect the fact that there were singles in this world too. You always happened to work on this day somehow. The thought of love disgusted you very much. Love was not something for you and that was something you always told yourself. You didn’t have the time or the energy to find someone to love right now. Life was just simple and boring and you would like to keep it that way.

… Or that's what you thought before a young white-haired guy walked through the door with the most serious expression you had ever seen. Could someone look so serious and intimidating at the same time? His crimson eyes shone as he walked to the front counter.

You gulped a little and walked to the cash register and welcomed him to the shop.

"Good morning sir. What can I get for you this wonderful and lovely day?" you hated the sound of the cheesy introduction, but it's what your boss told you to say to every customer.

"Good morning. I want a Ben de Tia shot with hazelnut, vanilla, almond, extra whip caramel sauce, mocha sauce, rumba chocolate chip cream, Frappuccino with 5 shots of coffee, and top it off with some fruits and yogurt” he said thoughtfully.

You froze at your place and stared at him. It was hard to tell if your mind played you some tricks or if your ears were stuffed with wax to the point where you heard something wrong. This had to be the longest and most complicated order you had ever got. Was this stoic guy on some good drugs or what was the issue?

The lack of response and movement from you annoyed him a little bit. He raised an eyebrow at you and crossed his arms. "What’s wrong? Something on my face?"

You flinched and coughed as an excuse. "No! Your order will be $6,29, sir" you looked down at the cash register and typed in his order with a red blush. How embarrassing...

He took his card out and paid for his order. You took the receipt and walked away to make this strange order. Soon you came to the coffee machine and picked out a cup for him. The order was too complicated to remember, so you picked up his receipt and followed every ingredient. When you were done you gave it to him with a small smile. "Hope it tastes good! Have a nice day and come back soon!"

He didn't spare you a single glance nor did he answer you. The white-haired guy just turned around and left the shop. What a strange guy...

The rest of your day was spent pretending to be this happy cashier who made people’s orders and cleaned after every table was used. You couldn’t escape this day, it was your destiny to stay with all these couples until late at night.

After closing the cafe, you came home and threw yourself in bed with a satisfied sigh. Finally, the annoying day was over and you could sleep until tomorrow night if you wanted to. Your cat jumped up beside you and purred as it stroke its head against your arm. You opened your eyes and smiled. “Hello little one, missed me so much today?” You raised your hand and scratched it behind its ear in silence. The little smile that was visible on your lips disappeared as you looked at the cat. “Happy Valentine’s day.. I guess”

You don’t remember when or how you fell asleep, but suddenly you were woken up by your ringing phone. Who dared to call you this early in the morning?

Turning around to your phone you picked it up and looked at the time. The digital number showed 08:10 am. Your gaze then wandered to the name on the screen and it read Deyha. Why was she calling you this early in the morning?

You pressed the green button and put the phone to your ear. Before you had the chance to say anything you heard her voice on the other side of the phone. “You will never believe what just happened!”

Your eyes closed automatically and you grimaced at how loud she was. “Please don’t scream in my ear this early in the morning! What happened at eight in the fucking morning so you have to call me and disturb my beauty sleep?”

“A white-haired guy came in and ordered the most complicated drink ever! When I made it to him he tasted it and made a disgusting grimace! Like can you believe it?

Then he stared at me intensely.. It felt like he wanted to kill me right on the spot! After that, he mumbled something like “It’s not like how that person made it” and then he walked out of the cafe while looking mad! You worked yesterday so he must be talking about you! Do you know this guy?”

You sat up surprised, scaring the cat that slept beside you. It was that guy from yesterday! Why did he come back on a Saturday to get coffee this early?

“Uh, yeah I worked yesterday and I might know who you’re talking about, but it’s not what you think it is Deyha! I don’t know the guy at all. He came yesterday and ordered the same coffee he did today and then he paid and left” you explained seriously.

“mh-hm..” was all she said, and you could hear her big grin on her face on the other end. Of course, she thought that you were lying. Deyha and her girlfriend Candace have been trying to get you together with a boy ever since you started studying in the akademiya.

“Well well, looks like my best friend has an admirer. You better not let him down and cover for me these days” she laughed, making you roll your eyes. Deyha always found reasons to make you get out of your room and socialize with people. Another reason to cover for her was to cuddle with Candace, real annoying if you say it yourself.

After talking back and forth, Deyha excused herself by saying that she had to get back to work. Before you could even complain she hung up and you were left staring at your background on the phone.

With a sigh, you got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. There was no reason for you to go back to sleep again since Deyha had already woken you up, but what could you do on a Saturday when you were home alone? Maybe you could call your friend over and study for the upcoming exam, or you could get dressed and join Deyha in the cafe.

Deciding to keep Deyha company you got dressed and made your way to the kitchen where you gave your cat some food and fresh water. You walk to your hall and put on some shoes before going to the cafe. It was a 10-minute walk from your apartment building, making it easy to go home on your breaks.

Like you had thought Deyha was happy to see you in the cafe. You sat with her at the front counter and let her work whenever a new customer came by to buy a coffee or sandwiches. “Tell me then, who is this guy?”

You turned your head towards her surprised, “Deyha I already told you! He’s a customer who came in yesterday and asked for the coffee you made. I made it for him and he left after paying.”

She looked at you and it was like she looked for signs of you lying, but she gave up with a sigh. “Well, we know that he’s liking the coffee you made. That means another happy customer” she smiled at you before wiping the front counter. You watched her wipe all the dust and coffee crumbs.

“but there’s something about him..”

Deyha stopped in her tracks and looked at you with a wide grin. You knew that she was hoping for you to admit having a little crush on him but it never came. “I don’t know how to explain it but it feels like I know him from somewhere. Is he going to our school or is he maybe my neighbor?”

Deyha put away the towel and put a finger under her chin, looking elsewhere like she was trying hard to think. “You know, I gotta admit that I felt that feeling too. He looked familiar somehow. If you want I can ask Candace. She’s in the school consoler team with Tighnari, maybe she knows who it is?”

You nodded and felt a weird feeling in your stomach. Were you nervous about knowing who he was? It wasn’t anything like you to care so much about a boy who seemed to like your way of making his weird coffee. After that day, you started working more in the cafe just to see if the boy would come back and he did. He was there every morning at the same time.

The clock hit 7:20 am and the doorbell rang when someone came in. “Good morning!” you smiled at him and pushed his cup forward toward him. He stopped at the front counter and looked at you surprised. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “I knew that you would come at this time, so I already made your coffee!”

He stood there speechless, feeling his heart skip a beat. You had learned his order by heart and had it finished before he came in. Soon he noticed the little drawing on the cup, making him lift his mug to analyze it. “I hope you didn’t mind me drawing on the cup a little.. I was bored while the coffee was boiling so I drew a little jackal head. Hope you like it” you smiled a little nervous. His gaze and facial expression were hard to read but you swear that you saw his gaze soften and a faint smile showing itself on his face.

“It’s.. very nice of you. I like it..” he said seriously with a little hint of softness in his voice. A soft smile showed on your lips while you typed in the amount that the guy would be paying, He paid with his card like always and couldn’t help but stare at you for a while. You were so beautiful in his eyes and no one had ever been so nice toward him. Well if he thought about it some more it was your job to be nice as a cashier at a cafe, but why did it feel different with you?

“May I ask what your name is?” you suddenly asked without even thinking. He stared at you in silence, making the hair on your neck rise. Shivers ran down your spine and you soon regretted asking him about his name. The silence started becoming very suffocating, so you cleared your throat and handed him the receipt.

“Nevermind.. I apologize for asking. I hope you have a good da-”

“My name is Cyno” was all he said before he turned around and walked out of the cafe. His facial expression never changed once and you were left surprised behind the cash register.

You remembered what Deyha told you about asking Candace. She hadn’t called yet so it must mean that Candace couldn’t match the description with someone, but it didn’t matter anymore. Cyno could just be someone you saw in the city sometime or at a party. Though he did not look like someone who would be hanging around at parties…

You would never admit it yourself but you had grown to like this serious and stoic man walking in and out every morning, ordering the most complicated coffee order you have heard. Somehow after he told his name, your morning greetings have gone from awkward “Hello” or “Good morning” to Cyno coming in and enlightening you with a joke or two while you made his coffee. Some were so bad that you didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry. He also came up with this lame nickname for you and he would always use it if you were alone in the shop.

“Coffee bean..” you thought to yourself as you made a coffee for another customer. You looked out through the window and saw many students head towards the school as another day of tiring classes slowly approached. Cyno didn’t come to the shop yet which was a bit strange from your side but it was not like you cared or worried about him, right?

You stood by the coffee machine and fixed Cyno's order as usual when the doorbell suddenly rang. A smile formed on your face since you knew who came this early but when your gaze met a pair of unfamiliar eyes, your smile disappeared.

In front of you stood two men with black masks over their faces. They walked to the cash register and forced you to put money in the bag. You refused the request since the money was important for the shop. It's impossible to tell from where you got the courage to stand up for yourself, but you did.

It was a bad idea though.. because one of the guys jumped over to your side and bend you over the counter while the other opened the cash register and took money. You struggled to get out of the guy's grip, making him grin. He was so strong for no reason at all.

"Stop struggling or I'll have to use force and hurt you. You don't want your pretty face to be ruined now do you?" he said before shoving your face down. You winced a little in pain as your head hit the hard counter.

"Please don't do this.." you begged repeatedly. Like the universe heard your pleas for help the other guy dragged his companion off you and told him to search the shop for anything of worth. You stood up in shock and watched them look for things that were worth something.

After searching, the thieves found nothing more and decided to run away from there. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you looked down at your shaking hands. You got a headache and lifted your hand to your head only to be met with slight pain and blood on your hand. This wasn't good..

Soon you heard the doorbell again and someone walked in. You didn't bother to see who it was until you heard the person halt and gasp a little. Before you could blink you heard your name being called, making you look up in shock. You recognized the voice immediately and just when you were about to call out for him, he appeared in front of you.

Cyno stared at you with widened eyes as he saw your bruise and teary eyes. Without thinking he walked to the counter and climbed over to your side, holding your body close to his. His arms embraced you perfectly and with the right amount of pressure to make you melt into him and cry into his neck.

He was sure that you could hear his fast heartbeats but he didn't care. All that mattered to him was that you were alright and he was there with you. "You're okay now.." he whispered in your ear, trying to calm you down. All you could do was standing there crying while he held you in his arms. He caressed your hair and continued down to your back in a soothing way.

Sometimes you felt him plant soft kisses on your head which made you blush but you made sure not to let Cyno see it. Maybe love wasn’t as bad as you thought…

_________________________________________

This was meant to be out on Valentine's day but I couldn't finish it because of school. Hope you enjoy it either way <3 ^^

Like, Reblog and comments are much appriciated!

Also tell me if you would like a part two ^^!

#cyno x reader #genshin cyno #genshin impact #cyno imagines #cyno headcanons #genshin x reader #romance #cyno x you #genshin fanfic #slight angst

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