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railingsofsorrow · 5 months

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

a healthy caffeine addiction

[spencer reid x reader]

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

pairing: s.reid x gn!barista!reader

w.c: 3K

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

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

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[requested] ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never.”

──────────────

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

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

But that's the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You're boy genius?”

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

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

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

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

“A- a system?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────

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

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

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

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

Boy genius didn't show up again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is a nickname he missed dearly.

Were they about to call me amazing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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ciggyy · 1 month

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Okay hear me out whenever Satoru isn’t wearing his sunglasses/ blindfold indoors, he keeps his eyelids closed. He didn’t need to open them anyway, not while he could already see everything. But then you would step into the room. He would’ve already sensed you coming, sensed you presence, and he turns around just in time with your entrance, eyelids peeling open to reveal those mesmerising blue orbs.

The seconds between each blink drag on and on, almost as if he was scared you’d dissipate into thin air if he looked away. He wanted to engrave you into his mind, memorise everything about you (not that he didn’t already memorise it) but he just wanted it carved deeper into his brain, so that even after he closes his eyelids again, he’d see you there.

#No bc he is the softest fluffiest squishiest thing ever #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo #jjk x reader #satoru #satoru fluff #satoru gojo x reader

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lilyrizzy · 6 months

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for my beloved @catofthecanals289... consider this day one of your twelve days of maxiel advent calendar lol (if i manage to write that much...i'll try...no promises....). but yay! wedding fluff

It's Grace that asks Max, “are you ready to marry my son?”

On her face there is a grin so similar to Daniel’s, Max can’t help but return it despite his pounding heart and sweating palms.

Looking out at the sea of familiar faces for a moment, he lets the steady hum of voices wash over him. Just breathes in the sweet smell of the tulips- Daniel’s idea- swirling in the air. Admires how the rays of sunlight filter through the big bay window behind him to bathe the room in gold.

Max would have married Daniel in a Vegas back alley, but he does have to admit this is all very lovely. Victoria, bouncing Max’s baby daughter on her lap as his twins play with their cousins next to her, catches his eye to give him a sweet smile.

“I am ready, of course,” Max says turning to Grace, and it’s been the truth since he was twenty years old.

She squeezes the top of his arm, her smile softening momentarily, before she nods at the registrar. Then, multiple people are instructing Max to turn around, to face away from the aisle and instead to stare out at the setting sun through the window.

Michelle had teased Daniel about this, said it figured that he would be the one to make the grand entrance of the day. Max had dutifully listened to Daniel’s insistences that he was not a show-off, while secretly agreeing with her. Announcing himself dramatically into a room silenced by the first few notes of a song he's spent months agonising over chosing seemed exactly like Daniel’s style.

I want a proper first look, Daniel had told Max, it will be romantic.

Hearing the charmed murmurings of the people they are closest to in the world as Daniel makes the entrance, Max can’t wait any longer to turn and look.

Max is meant to wait. He’s supposed to count to fifteen, to let Daniel get at least a little way already down the aisle before he moves to look at him. He isn’t totally sure why, just that it had seemed very important when they’d practiced yesterday. Except-

What he notices first is Daniel, of course. His wide grin, the soft brown eyes Max loves so much, framed by the cheeky way his eyebrows climb up his forehead as though to say, surprise! How beautiful he looks, though Max knows he would prefer the word 'sexy'.

Then, it’s their children.

Their twins, each with a hand tucked carefully into one of their dad’s, as the three of them walk down the aisle all together. Max can’t help the laughter that fizzes up from his stomach and all the way to his lips as he glances at the now empty chairs next to Victoria. Joe, who was supposed to be walking Daniel down, shrugs innocently at Max from the seat next to Grace.

The bubbles of laughter don’t stop, not even as his eyes start to get wet at the corners, making his vision swim. He can still see everything he needs to perfectly; Daniel’s well cut suit, his carefully styled curls. The sparkle of the diamonds he let Max slip onto his fourth finger almost a year ago now, the sunlight bouncing off them. The matching blonde heads of his children, Oli’s topped with the flower crown Victoria had actually made for his sister, Livia.

The people who remind Max over and over, just how gentle love can really be.

The song fades out into silence when the three of them come to stand in front of Max. Three perfect faces wearing the same smile Max was first drawn to over ten years ago now.

He wants to kiss the version of it on Daniel’s face the moment that he gets close enough for Max to reach for, but they are fathers first now. Oli throws an arm around Max’s leg, hiding shyly behind him, and Livia informs him seriously, “Papa, I gave Oli my flower power to help him be brave.”

Even as Max and Daniel exchange a grin, something thicker settles into Max’s throat. He can hardly believe it sometimes, that after years of traveling the world together, fatherhood is yet another adventure he gets to have with Daniel.

“Hi baby,” is all Daniel says, cupping Max’s face gently. He is the picture of smug, and Max lets him revel in his glory for a moment, before crouching down to be eye level with their children.

Glancing up at Daniel, Max asks instead, “do you think I could borrow him for a moment, so we can get married?”

“Guys,” he says seriously, touching each of their sticky-warm cheeks in turn gently, just as their other father had touched his. “Thank you for helping daddy get to me safely.”

When they’d practiced, Joe had been the one leading Daniel up the aisle. Max remembers that this is supposed to be the part where the registrar asks who gives Daniel to be married, but there is no giving away to be done now. They have always belonged to each other, and now to their children as well, just as much.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Livia declares, throwing her hands into the air excitedly. Oliver is less certain, but Victoria and Grace both speak up then, all gentle encouragement to coax them both back to their seats. They go- each with a parting kiss- and then Max straightens up again, Daniel is looking at him with the same shit eating grin.

Good surprise? He mouths as the registrar begins the formalities, and Max does his best not to roll his eyes as he lets the fond smile overtake him again. Anything to do with their babies is lovely, so it’s not like it was really a gamble.

It’s enough even, to blunt the sharp edges in Max’s chest when he looks at the two empty seats in the front row he had asked Victoria to keep free just in case. Fatherhood gave him a renewed belief that indifference and disapproval were not gaps that couldn’t be bridged with love. Now it’s enough to know that whatever divide might have formed between the family he was born into, there is nothing he wouldn’t find a way to cross for the family he made for himself.

As if that has ever been anything other than the truth.

He takes Daniel’s hands and repeats everything he needs to so that they can make what Max has always known to be true, official. When Max kisses Daniel, he feel both the promise of new beginning, and the fifteen years of shared history.

“Who would have thought it, Verstappen?” Daniel teases as he pulls away from their first kiss as a married couple, but Max knows he is thinking the same thing when he adds, softer, “all mine now, Maxy.”

What is a perfect day for them, is of course a little more boring for the babies. Halfway through signing the register, the children start to fuss, and so they end up with one on each knee, Livia demanding her flower crown back, and Oli forever eager to please the sister he adores. Somewhere, the same song the three of them made their entrance too fades back in and Daniel starts to dramatically mime the words to Max, like the show off he and Michelle both know he is.

Your love will be, safe with me.

#this is the fluffiest thing i've ever written and i NEVER write fluff so if it's terrible that is why #but don't you worry my black hearted gal #angst is coming your way;) i thought id just start off a lil happier lol #fic #max/daniel #also who knows the song?;))))

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lienwyn · 6 months

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Happy birthday, @a-very-fond-farewell! I figured you would enjoy seeing Mr. Abyss in a silly apron ;)

And Ga On be like: "DON'T MIND IF I DO"

... possibly connected to Who Holds the Devil, I guess, since Yo Han is cooking? The future we're all longing for, or something. Especially Ga On since he finally gets to bury his nose against Yo Han's neck like he's always wanted. That boy.

#Kang Yo Han #Kim Ga On #Gahan #The Devil Judge #Art #Fan Art #KDrama #LOOK #Maybe I feel a little bit guilty about chapter 38 #So here #Have some domestic fluff #Also #I'm still trying to figure out how to shade in a simpler way #Not sure if I can call this simple tho x'D #But it IS pretty! :D #I am also on a quest to put Yo Han in the fluffiest sweaters ever #And yes #The Mole is present #I'm pretty sure people would murder me if I forgot about it xD

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brekitten · 4 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jason Todd Characters: Danny Fenton, Jason Todd Additional Tags: Adopted Danny Fenton, Kid Danny Fenton, Jason Todd-centric, Dad! Jason Todd, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Baking, cooking together, Roses, Rose Milk Cake, Fentonic 2024 (Danny Phantom), One Shot Series: Part 7 of Cat Soulmates Fentonic 2024 Spoilers Summary:

Fluffy baking one-shot featuring dad!Jason and baby!Danny

Cooking Together | Roses

Day 7! @catnek-writing-things and I both panic wrote this, but it's fine. Everything is fine.

Anywho, enjoy the fluff while it lasts, because most of Fentonic is pretty much angst >:3

#fentonic2024 #cooking together #roses #dpxdc #jason todd #danny fenton #de aged danny #dad hood #dad jason todd #seriously he is such a dad #fluff #we used an actual recipe for this btw #i really want to try making it #it looks really good #this is the fluffiest thing i have ever written #theyre so cute

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munacy · 1 year

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magnetic

@wolfstarmicrofic

They look ridiculous right now, laying flat on the uncomfortable hardwood floor of the kitchen with a woefully empty bottle of gin between them, heads flush against the Muggle refrigerator. It kicks on noisily. Remus vaguely wonders when was the last time they honest-to-God swept, but decides he can worry about that at a later time.

(That’s always what he thinks. Even sober. It’s why the floor’s not been swept in ages.) “And it’s because they’re…magentic, yes?”

He says it like magenta, the color, forcing a throaty drunk giggle from Remus’ throat.

“Close, sweetheart, close. They’re magnetic, they’re magnets. The metals have, like, opposite poles or something,”—Remus finds that in this state, it’s a bit difficult, accurately recalling basic science, but reasons that Sirius won’t know any better if he gets part of it wrong—”and it causes them to be attracted to one another.”

“Ahh, Moony, then I must be magnetic to you, eh?” Sirius murmurs lasciviously while squirming closer to Remus. However, the motion of his drunkenly swinging hand upsets the precariously placed magnet (a magnet portraying a chihuahua in a purple bikini and thong, because they are classy gentlemen and would never display a naked chihuahua). The chihuahua falls, as all great dynasties do. Smacks Sirius in the middle of his porcelain forehead, causing him to squawk in pain. Remus guffaws with abandon, sharp gleaming teeth, free, loud.

(Only Sirius gets to see this. Every one else gets the breathy chuckle, muffled into a fist or disguised as a cough.)

When Remus regains his composure, he finally notices the precious cargo in Sirius’ hand. It is a Polaroid of Lily and James at their wedding, previously pinned to the fridge by their fallen comrade.

“You know, Remus,” Sirius says softly, if a little garbled, “we should do this.”

“Take a photo together? We’ve got hundreds.”

“No, you giant twat!” he laughs. His laugh is so beautiful, so gorgeous, and, by God, Remus wants to eat it. “We should get married.” His smile is soft, angelic, dimples and blushing innocence.

(Only Remus gets to see this. Only Remus.)

“Sirius Black,” he says gravely. “Did you just propose to me on the dirty floor of our kitchen after calling me a giant twat?”

Sirius barks out a stunned laugh and adopts a put-upon frown. “What, you don’t like it? You won’t marry me because I called you a twat? I thought that—stop tickling me you bastard!—thought that was part of my charm—really, enough, you fiend!”

Remus has gained the hard-won upper hand, straddling Sirius and pinning him down. He smirks down at Sirius suggestively, then attacks with lightly peppered kisses all over his face and neck as Sirius shouts and feigns displeasure.

Through breathless laughter, Remus gets out, “You silly, imperious, capricious, beautiful, stunning creature, you can’t propose to me on the dirty floor of our kitchen after calling me a giant twat and being completely and utterly trollied, you ridiculous sod.”

Sirius puts on his very best forlorn puppy eyes. It shouldn’t work with slate grey eyes, but it does.

“But Moony,” he whines with adorable petulance, and Remus sees his pale hand scrabbling under the fridge (Disgusting, his mind supples unhelpfully), “I got you a ring and everything.”

The searching hand brandishes a bread twist-tie like a weapon, bent into barely a circle shape. Remus laughs delightedly.

“Ah, Pads,” Remus says fondly, slipping the twist-tie onto his ring finger, “You know I can never say no to you.”

He’s being half facetious.

He’s being more serious than he’s ever been.

“But! I would rather never say no to you when we’re both sober,” he finishes, smiling shyly. Sirius grins crookedly at him, kisses his hair.

“Alright, alright, Moony, point taken, no more playing.”

In the morning, when they’re both murderously hungover, Sirius doesn’t understand how Remus could possibly be surprised, not see it coming, as Sirius bends down on one knee for the real deal, with the real ring that he’s hidden in his sock drawer for weeks, both of them weeping like silly little boys. They take a Polaroid of their happy engagement, and this one is pinned to the fridge with a magnet of a Pomeranian in high heels.

#wolfstar #fluff #the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff #remus lupin x sirius black #wolfstar microfic #microfic #humor

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bird-inacage · 2 years

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Love in the Air: Sky x Prapai (Episode 11)

IT’S OFFICIAL FOLKS. IT’S OFFICIAL. THEY’RE BOYFRIENDS. I REPEAT. THEY’RE BOYFRIENDS. IT’S DONE.

They really didn’t lie when they said this episode was going to be even sweeter than last episode. This was ultimately centred on Sky and Prapai officially deeming each other their ‘one and only’, and taking the steps necessary to be ready to commit to one another.

Prapai being angry out of concern is just *chef’s kiss*. I adore protective Prapai, and seeing him get so genuinely scared and angry over Sky, even surprised him I think. He had no idea just how scared he could be until that call came through. Which makes me want to curl into the fetal position and sob when I even vaguely consider what’s still about to happen. But also it was great to see Sky feel so guilty for worrying Prapai. So far we’ve largely seen Prapai worrying over Sky. But now that Sky cares about Prapai, he’s also starting to do the same.

Sky was also testing Prapai’s resolve. He finally admitted to himself that he does indeed like Prapai, but he wanted to put him through (what I guess what was a series of final tests?), just to see if that would scare him off. Not a chance. Do you have any idea how completely and utterly obsessed he is with you??

And Prapai making a freaking pin out of Sky’s little drawing is just peak romance. There is no clearer way you could communicate how whipped you are for our boy. He owns you, and you wear it with pride.

It’s a joy to see Sky come out of his shell, and how much Prapai treasures every morsel of information he learns about Sky.

So I think I (along with many others) are very much aware that this is the calm before the storm. The sweet before the angst. The fluff before the downright heartbreak. And we better all relish it this week before the oncoming storm commences.

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #love in the air episode 11 #prapaisky #prapai x sky #sky x prapai #they said we'll give you the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed #the most domestic of boyfriends to ever boyfriend #the ADORE to their ADORABLE

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queseraone · 1 year

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i find myself running home to your sweet nothings

The silence feels hopeful, just like everything about their life together. It's soft and safe and welcoming, like a blank canvas just waiting to be adorned with the sounds of paws skittering across the floor. Of music or laughter.

The sounds of home.

Read on AO3

#chenford #chenford fanfic #chenford fanfiction #the rookie #the rookie fanfic #chenford fic #mine #mine: writing #tim bradford #lucy chen #fluff #future fic #seriously this is the fluffiest thing i've ever written idk who i am anymore

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caitlynskitten · 2 months

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Rip Lucy MacLean you would’ve loved Ao3

#she would write the most fluffiest of fluffs that’s ever been fluffed #fallout #lucy maclean #fallout series #fallout shitpost

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parlerenfleurs · 1 month

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It's funny how omegaverse started as this fringe weird as fuck thing some people did in fanfics, but the joke's on me because not only does its basic form completely appeal to my erotic tastes, actually, but it has truly become a very fascinating genre to me.

I'm sure someone in an American university doing gender studies is writing their thesis on this somewhere. Because it is such an interesting playfield for commentary, caricature and subversion on gender roles and on the position of potential child-bearing individuals in society, and how could this be structured if it were made 10 times more obvious, or how would we cope with it in a supposedly egalitarian society, and how can we make this man experience mysogyny, etc. And it reflects beautifully all of the fears, anxieties, and fantasies people with the potential to bear children, or perceived as such, can have. And the revolt, utopias, or reclamation that they want to express about it.

There is nothing inherently bad or even inherently anything about it as a whole, because people have created such unique things within the framing of this genre, and I find it incredibly entertaining and intellectually stimulating.

#A/B/O #omegaverse #there's an ABO Stucky fic I read many years ago and lost #which I can't get out of my head #and it was the cutest fluffiest most heart-warming thing ever #and I'm not huge on fluff #but gosh was it good #it was pure indulgence to the max full comfort blankets and hot chocolate fic ever and it ruled #can't even remember if there was on-screen sex in the end #anyway #people voting omegaverse on that poll have no curiosity and no knowledge they are like little babies #/lh #unrelated but my neighbours down on the streets are SCREAMING for the sake of screaming again and it's been 2h and I want to kill them

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questioningwriter · 11 months

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(Y'all remember when I said I'd have second parts out to stories... yeah, then this happened.)

(I typed this in a hurry to get something out, so it's relatively unedited. I skimmed it once, so I may have missed something.)

Boredom

TW: suggestive @ the end

"I'm booooooored." Villain flopped over the side of the sofa in the shared apartment. "Come sit with me?"

From the desk, Hero snorted. "You're such a crybaby." They teased their partner. "Come on, can you wait? I'm working."

Villain pouted. "No." They walked over to see what their partner was working on. "What'chya doin'?"

"You're not the only villain out there, you know." Hero said. "I have to find counter strategies for every possible plan that Supervillain or the others could come up with. Superhero wants them by the end of the day."

Villain sighed. "Fine, I'll go." They walked away, leaving hero to their work.

A few hours later, Hero gets a call from the Hero Agency. More specifically, Superhero.

"Come and get your partner." Superhero snapped before Hero could say anything. "They're glaring a hole through me because I gave you work on your day off."

Well, shit. "I'm on my way." Hero grabbed their go-bag, and threw their uniform on over their clothes. "Sorry about this."

"No, I'm sorry." Superhero said as Hero got on his motorcycle drove out for the Agency. "I never should have given you work on your day off. I'll never do it again."

Hero sighed. "Villains holding a knife to your throat, aren't they?"

"Is it that obvious?" Superhero tried to joke as Hero pulled up to the tall building the agency was in.

"I know Villain." Hero answered. "So yeah, it is."

Hero made their way to Superhero's office, thinking every curse word in the book. When they got there, they saw Superhero sitting in their chair, with Villain standing behind them in their villain getup, pressing a knife to their throat.

"Hey, baby!" Villain said cheerily, as if they were just happy to see them come home.

Hero sighed. "Sweetheart, baby, love of my life, I love you with every fibre of my being. Please let my boss go."

Villain pouted, but removed the knife from Superhero's neck. "Come on, baby." They muttered. "You have to see where I'm coming from here. You were ignoring me."

"As if I'm not allowed to work from home." Hero grumbled, but they were smiling.

"Nope!" Villain danced over to their partner, throwing their arms around them and mashing their bodies together. "When you're at home, you're mine!"

Hero winked. "Than why don't we go home and you can make me yours all over again?"

Villain smirked. "Yes, lets."

#hero x villain community #hero x villain #hero #villain #possesive villain #fluff #The Fluffiest Fluff #This is literally the fluffiest shit I've ever written #Superhero #writing #creative writing

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doonarose · 10 months

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Awning Realisation

(Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale kissing and romance fic)

Rating: T

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley get caught in a rainstorm on their way home from lunch. This is exactly what you think. I do not apologize for the fic, but I am very sorry about the title.

Rationale: Aziraphale and Crowley will come out of Season 3 talking to each other properly, and acknowledging, out loud, that they love each other, and actually planning for a future together. I’m writing kisses in this delicious, easy setting while I figure out if/how to write proper fix it fic. You can read this on its own, or after their second kiss in ‘The first one that’s right’ and their third kiss in ‘The second one that’s quite rubbish’. This is not the next kiss, this is a couple dozen kisses into their kissing escapades, and it is a good one.

Count: 2200ish

They’re leaving the park and beginning the short walk home when the first few fat drops of rain land. Wet, heavy splotches across their shoulders and into their hair accompanied by a dramatic flash of lightning. Aziraphale and Crowley do not ordinarily get caught out in the rain; it’s easy and convenient to miracle up an umbrella or simply to choose that their corporations not get wet.

Today, sated from a long lunch and deeply in love with each other, the idea of linking arms and walking home under a big black brolly tickles Crowley’s fancy and he raises his hand to bring one into existence. But Aziraphale is fast and grabs his fingers before he can cast. “Wait a moment!”

The rain is starting to fall harder, sheets of it falling across the grass around them, soaking quickly through Crowley’s blazer and starting to seep into the wool of his turtleneck. Standing there, seemingly impervious to it, Aziraphale’s grin only widens, his eyes twinkling; he’s clearly bursting to tell Crowley the secret and so Crowley waits, dutifully.

The cold makes Crowley’s body shiver involuntarily, prompting him to ask, “Aziraphale?” his voice raised but only to be heard over the wind starting to whip up around them, pushing the rain against them from all sides. “What on Earth are we waiting for?”

A new thought occurs to Aziraphale, Crowley notes the change in countenance. Aziraphale angles his chin up and off to the side, “Wait, was this you?”

Lost as to what Aziraphale means and increasingly exasperated, Crowley responds, “What? Was what me?” Aziraphale just continues to regard him with a degree of suspicion. By now, the cold water has already saturated Crowley’s hair right down to his scalp, it’s running in a constant drip down the back of his neck, trickling down his spine to the small of his back and wetting the wool from the inside out. Somehow, it’s making his wings itch; he does not like the cold and he could storm off and miracle himself back to dry and warm but Aziraphale’s still grasping his hand.

Suspicion gives way to a tight little secretive smile. “Just wait,” Aziraphale says, squeezing Crowley’s hand. Aziraphale gives a joyous little jolt of surprise at another flash of lightning and almost immediate thunder, letting out a giggle that sounds nervous.

Bemused but distracted by Aziraphale’s obvious delight in a rainstorm of all things, Crowley watches as he turns his head up to the rain, eyes closed against the whip of the wet and the wind. It’s a picture, he admits, worth the chill: everything about Aziraphale in this moment is radiant and contrasted up against all the greys of the London sky.

Eventually, though, as gorgeous as the angel looks, Crowley’s about to demand an explanation, or at the very least shake his hair out, when suddenly Aziraphale brings his chin back down and opens his eyes. He grins, mischievous and his eyebrows waggle just a little. His voice slips too easily into the overly dramatic play-acting tone you’d expect to hear in some classic farce. “Quick! Quick, Crowley, over there! There’s an awning!”

But before Crowley can react to this revelation – and even he isn’t clueless enough to not realize immediately the game Aziraphale is playing – his hand is being squeezed again and Aziraphale is pulling him along. In moments, he’s been led across the road, weaving between the crawling traffic and the scurrying humans, along the footpath, past shops packed with people escaping the deluge, to come to a stop under the deep blue canopy of some quaint little bakery.

They stand close in front of the shop window, catching their breath as the sound of the rain on the bricks and the fabric of their shelter becomes even louder. There are streams of water coming down off the awning in the corners and splashing from the ground so that it’s only the square foot they’re occupying that’s truly staying dry. And warm golden light pouring through the shop window, pastries and breads piled high on display, the scents of jam and yeast mingling with the petrichor and the car fumes.

They’re sopping wet, drenched to the skin, and being sheltered under an awning at this point is actually kind of pointless. But Crowley can’t help but grin like an absolute idiot, wondering at the inner machinations of Aziraphale’s mind and waiting to discover exactly how he will play this out.

Aziraphale drops his hand and scrubs the water back off his face. “My goodness, what an unexpected and tempestuous storm!” he narrates, gleefully. “You’re soaking wet!” As though he hadn’t just been the one to make them stand in the rain for a solid minute and a half.

“Yes, quite,” Crowley plays along, failing to stifle his grin and get into some sort of character. They’re in public but no one’s paying them attention so he slips off his sunglasses and lets his eyes sparkle for Aziraphale to see. “There comes a point where you’re so wet you just can’t get any wetter.” He shakes his arms and shoulders sending water droplets flying, and then rakes both hands through his hair, pushing it back and away from where it’s started to fall in wet clumps across his forehead.

Aziraphale’s biting his bottom lip in an effort to hold some of his excitement at bay, and then he steps in, close and not quite warm, just wetter still where their clothes make contact and press into their skin; toe to toe, hip to hip and chest to chest. He loops his arms around Crowley’s waist and captures him there against him, holding his gaze steady and playful with their faces only a few inches apart.

“Oh Crowley,” he sighs, very much overly dramatically.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley encourages, tone tinged with mockery but overflowing with affection.

They continue to stare into each other’s eyes until there’s another rumble of thunder. Aziraphale yells to speak over it as it dissipates: “You know, until this moment, I never really knew myself.”

Crowley chuckles, hands at Aziraphale’s hips, just gently rubbing little circles with his thumbs and willing Aziraphale to kiss him now. “A lovely sentiment, thank you.”

“Yes, and you should know,” Aziraphale continues boisterously. “That my feelings will not be repressed! You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

“Ah,” Still grinning and shuffling to try to get that little bit closer, Crowley recognises that. “Our friend, Jane.”

Aziraphale looks pleased with the both of them. “You’ve been reading!”

“Watched the movie,” Crowley explains, giving Aziraphale’s hips another squeeze. “And it’s only fair, Aziraphale,” Crowley’s confession catches in his throat: this is silly and wonderful, but vulnerable, too. They’re not like this often, even now, they struggle with it, because it’s so vulnerable and they could never ever have been vulnerable before, not with all that danger and risk. But they can now, and deep down, Crowley wants to be.

So, he swallows and focuses on Aziraphale’s grinning, expectant, wet face. “You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I’ve ever had.”

In the end, he tries to play it off as silly, failing, thankfully, because his cheeks are burning hot enough to start to evaporate the water, and his eyes are imploringly honest because actually, he means every damn word. He holds Aziraphale’s gaze.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathes out and looks suddenly on the brink of blissfully happy tears.

“It’s from The Notebook,” Crowley mumbles.

“Don’t care,” and then Aziraphale’s lips are pressed up against his, sweet and slick with the rain, hot with passion and still curved up into a smile.

Crowley falls into Aziraphale like he’s starting to do every time they kiss, collapsing into his embrace and crumbling to have found his refuge. His arms snake around Aziraphale’s back, crushing them even closer together as Aziraphale kisses at his lips and cradles his cheeks in his hands.

Everything is deeper and somehow more with the wet heaviness of their bodies and their clothes, with the rolls of thunder overhead, and the warm golden light from the bakery cut through by blasts of white lightning. The rain draws out the essence of them, the familiar rosewater and sandalwood Aziraphale always wears almost overwhelmed by the earthier base notes of his skin and his hair and his mouth, right there under Crowley’s hands and lips.

Aziraphale’s mouth shifts, peppering kisses across his lips and his cheeks, and then back to focus on the pout of Crowley’s bottom lip to slip and tug at it in a manner that’s becoming familiar and expected. Aziraphale sucks against it, gentle and slow, as his hands slip back into Crowley’s hair, fingers splayed and sliding seamlessly into strands made slippery with rain. His hands fist, grasping hold in a way that wrings water from Crowley’s hair in wet dribbles and makes Crowley’s eyes flutter open for a moment, his lips parted around a quiet, unexpected gasp. Aziraphale’s tongue flicks up against his open lips, against Crowley’s teeth and behind and this time it’s crepes and sweet cream and sticky raspberry jam that Aziraphale tastes of.

Crowley can’t help but groan at it, quiet and private, just between them, but undeniably letting Aziraphale know that he’s coming apart. Crowley kisses him back, hard and letting go of some of his control, licking into Aziraphale’s open mouth, meeting his tongue and shocked to find himself starving for the taste there. Crepes, cream, raspberries, Aziraphale, licking it from his lips and his tongue, swallowing it down like it’s the very best wine.

Crowley wonders if Aziraphale knows that that’s what this kiss tastes like, wonders if he can sense – whether he can match – the desperation. It’s not just tender and loving – they’ve gotten good at that – this is hungry and delicious and perhaps too much for standing on a footpath. Yes, definitely too much. Crowley needs to slow them down and does, arms uncoiling from around Aziraphale’s waist, hands going back to his hips to squeeze and dig into the soft flesh just a little too tightly. Crowley pulls back and Aziraphale releases his hold of Crowley’s hair, hands shifting back to his cheeks. Crowley does his best, resisting Aziraphale’s gravitational pull until their faces are far enough apart that they can look at each other.

White hair curled messily from the rain, clothes hanging heavy off his shoulders and his bowtie askew and coming undone, Aziraphale looks out of breath and a little dazed, his lips kissed pink and wetter than the rest of him, cheeks a ruddy red, and his eye shining. He pouts and goes to say something, but Crowley falls back in for one last taste, lips meeting quickly, roughly, and Crowley licks at Aziraphale’s lips until he lets him in to feel the vibration of a moan and taste the sweetness and the lingering rain on his tongue. Crowley’s fingers dig into Aziraphale’s hips and then they really do pull apart.

Aziraphale takes a very deliberate, loud deep breath, in through his nose and then shakily out through his parted lips. He casts his gaze around, settling appreciatively for a moment on the bakery display; Crowley’s stuck still staring at his mouth. “Well then…” Aziraphale says and trails off as he turns back to look at Crowley with an encouraging, somewhat flustered smile.

Crowley commits to nothing and gives an audible but unintelligible murmur in response.

“I stand corrected,” Aziraphale offers after a couple of moments.

Crowley isn’t sure what he means but has noticed that he’s starting to feel cold and wet and not fantastic again. He arches an eyebrow in question, “Oh?”

Aziraphale’s gaze dips to the pavement and then back up to meet Crowley’s. “Well, you know… Vavoom.”

“Vavoom?” Crowley turns the word – his word – over in his mouth and understands exactly what Aziraphale is getting at. “Yes, vavoom indeed.” He presses his lips together to stop from smiling too broadly.

“Honestly,” Aziraphale continues, tone turning conversational. “I don’t know how Maggie and Nina didn’t fall in love immediately, even with all the extra water. It’s a wonder they even noticed they were getting wet.”

“Humans…” Crowley offers by way of explanation with a shrug. “Although admittedly, I am starting to understand some of their proclivities.” He slips his sunglasses back into place and looks out into the still-falling rain. “Are you ready to dry out?”

“Yes, certainly,” Aziraphale says. “That was, as always, very lovely, but I’m not sure it couldn’t be improved by the water being nice and warm.”

“Agreed.” Crowley wriggles his fingers in Aziraphale’s general direction, dispelling the water from their skin and their clothes in a million tiny droplets thrown off in every direction all at once. Just for good measure, he gives Aziraphale’s ensemble the added warmth and softness of a recent tumble dry without any of the potential fabric damage.

This is clearly to the angel’s liking, as Aziraphale beams at him in thanks before offering Crowley his arm and pulling a large black umbrella from nowhere. “Time to go back to the bookshop, my dear,” he says.

Crowley loops his arm through Aziraphale’s, joining him under the umbrella, and together they step out from under the awning to continue making their way home.

A/N: It is what it is, folks. Whatever head-shaking, cheek-aching grinning, eye-rolling, or snickering you have done, I, too, have felt it. When they work themselves out and get to this very pleasant place where it’s working through their trauma and their weirdness together, it is going to be ridiculously glorious. I have a few more of these planned and they’re all getting posted on AO3 now!

A/N 2: Should also say, that yes, there are five or six direct quotes, or close approximations through this from Four Weddings and a Funeral, Pride and Prejudice, and The Notebook. Because without the quotes it would only have been very fluffy and I wanted it ridiculously fluffy.

#good omens 2 fanfic #good omens 2 fic #ineffible husbands #ineffible idiots #the fluffiest fucking fluff that ever fluff #and then they got a little bit sexy which wasn't planned #but i guess that's what happens with a sudden rainstorm #vavoom etc #doonas fic

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mauri2530 · 6 months

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#dmc devil may cry #dmc reboot #reboot vergil #dmc kat #vergil x kat #the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed #cuuute #🥰🥰🥰#deviantart #not mine

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smileweakandwrong · 11 months

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Just the fluffiest little ronance 5+1 full of sweetness and not a single bit of hurt because I decided to be kind for once.

Summary:

“What do you mean you’ve never caught anything? Like…anything anything?” Nancy shook her head. “After the things I’ve seen in the last year and the way you’ve handled them there’s no way I’m believing that Nancy Wheeler was an inside girl afraid of getting dirt under her nails growing up.”

“Not by choice! But it was always ‘don’t get mud on your shoes’, or ‘you can’t climb trees in a dress’, or ‘don’t touch anything, you’ll get salmonella’ or ‘stay out of the woods, it’s not ladylike to get dirt on your clothes’,” Nancy said in a deep voice mocking her father. “Catching tadpoles and frogs was ‘boys’ play’ so I just stuck to riding bikes and the playgrounds.”

Robin shook her head sadly. “You poor thing. Well, that settles it then—” She patted Nancy’s legs and moved to finally stand up. “—I’m going to teach you how it’s done, expertly, starting tonight with fireflies.”

#ronance #nancywheeler #robinbuckley #tooth rotting fluff #the fluffiest thing I’ll ever write #eventual first kiss once these ding dongs get it together #I love them but they’re very bad at this #ronance fic #ao3 #5 + 1 things

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roosterbox · 8 months

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October Almost-Drabbles 10/2: Soup

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Word Count: 476

Additional Tags: Schmoop, tooth-rotting fluff, Gratuitous snuggling, Arthur is bad at cooking but Eames loves him anyway

———

The warmth of the house did wonders to the Autumn chill that permeated Eames. He came in from the cold, hung up his long coat, and was immediately grabbed.

“Darling?” He asked. Arthur wasn’t usually so forward as-

Oh. He’d been moved to the couch. Gently pushed down, made to sit. Right in the middle, on the softest cushion. He blinked, and there was suddenly a steaming bowl in his hands. It smelled heavenly. Like Fall veggies and slowly braised lamb.

“Try it,” Arthur sat down next to him. He looked… anxious? Ah, Eames thought, a new recipe. Usually confident in his skills, Arthur was always nervous when it came to his cooking ability. This was not an entirely unfounded fear. Before their latest renovations, the kitchen had borne various scorch marks and war wounds from his numerous previous attempts.

This seemed like a success so far. Taste, however, was the true test. Eames dipped his spoon into the stew, trying to get a good mix of ingredients. He could see carrots, potatoes, and good-sized chunks of meat. He blew on his spoon - lamb, a bit of carrot, and some broth - before eating it.

If he was completely honest, it wasn’t perfect. The lamb was a bit overdone. There were too many spices. It was too thick, even for an stew, over-encumbered by ingredients. It was also the most divine-tasting thing Eames had ever eaten, and he said so.

“Really?” Arthur seemed skeptical, but Eames knew he trusted his partner not to lie to him. Which he didn’t. Not technically.

Eames nodded. For emphasis, he ate a few more spoonfuls. He could feel it warming him all the way down. “Delicious,” he said, with feeling.

Later, he would offer his critique. He would tell Arthur, without reservation, what worked and what didn’t. Arthur’s trust was a precious commodity, one that Eames had worked hard for. He didn’t want to sully that by being anything less then honest. For now, he set his spoon down and reached over, grasping Arthur’s hand. Three quick squeezes. A nonverbal I love you.

“Delicious,” he said again. “This is exactly what I needed today.” Both of them knew he wasn’t only talking about the food. Arthur smiled, dimples and all, and squeezed Eames’ hand back. Three quick squeezes, then he let go.

“Keep eating, then.” He moved to snuggle up against Eames’ side, careful not to jostle him too much.

“What about you? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Later.” Arthur only seemed to nestle himself closer. “It’s on the stove. It’ll keep. Just… wanna be close to you.”

Eames’ throat felt suddenly a bit too tight. He ate another spoonful of stew, and swallowed past the lump in his throat. It was amazing how much his darling could still affect him. And so effortlessly too.

“Don’t let me stop you, then.”

#October drabbles #dreamhusbands #arthur x eames #the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff #Arthur cooks soup #Eames loves it #lol #nothing better than eating hot soup on a cold autumn evening #especially with your love by your side

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jinkoh · 1 year

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love letters

Hongseok x reader

Tags: light angst, hurt/comfort, g/n reader, established relationship, implied mental illness, domestic fluff

word count: ~1,5k

@seohotonin requested Hongseok with prompt 33 from this post: The way you said "I love you"— On a post-it note.

a/n: I felt like maybe we could all use some comfort in these trying times 🥲

thank you so much for requesting! <3 I hope you enjoy this small story~

Masterlist

Hongseok had never made a secret of his feelings for you. He showed you how much he loved you in everything he did and he liked telling you too. There was just something about the way your eyes lit up when he said those three words that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

But Hongseok didn't just like telling you that he loves you, he was also pretty good at knowing when you needed to hear it the most.

It wasn't that you weren't confident in his feelings for you. But from time to time when life got tough you just needed a little extra reassurance and Hongseok was more than happy to provide that for you.

Sadly both you and Hongseok had pretty busy work schedules at times. So even when he wanted to be with you and shower you with love all the time, it wasn't always possible.

So the solution Hongseok came up with were little sticky notes. Whenever he couldn't be around he left them all over your shared flat:

On the nightstand

Good morning :]

The bathroom mirror

You're my favorite person :]

The fridge

Have a yummy breakfast

The front door

Get to work safely!! >:[

And then when you were at work, still feeling exhausted and drained, you'd find one in the journal you always brought from home:

I love you ♡

He wasn't sure if these notes helped you at all but he hoped they could provide some comfort. At least he knew you must have found them, since they had always already disappeared by the time he returned home.

Even if it was just something small, Hongseok liked doing these things. Hongseok liked taking care of you, that's just the kind of person he was.

What didn't come so easy to him was letting others take care of him too. He wanted to be strong for you; he took pride in being able to protect you. He wasn't supposed to need protection or care.

And yet, these days he wasn't quite feeling like himself.

Maybe work drained him too much or maybe he was just feeling a little under the weather. Somehow things just felt so difficult.

He wanted to be his usual caring self. He wanted to make coffee in the morning and he wanted to cut up apples for you and he wanted to cuddle and comfort you.

But these days it was already so hard to get out of bed in the mornings.

He barely managed to even eat at all.

And when he cuddled with you in bed, rather than comforting you he felt as if he was holding onto you for dear life, seeking comfort himself.

Of course you’d noticed. And more than anything you wanted to be there with him and help him through it.

Because he did the same for you.

Because you loved him.

But it wasn't like you could call in sick— your boss already didn't like you and questioned everything you did. So as much as it pained you, you had to go to work, leaving Hongseok alone at your shared flat.

Before you left you tugged one of his cookie monster plushies into his embrace and left a kiss on his forehead. He barely noticed, drifting in and out of sleep after a restless night.

He didn't really wake up until way later. It was already past noon when he decided it was time to keep his eyes open and start his day.

Blearily he reached for his phone on the nightstand. But instead of his phone his hands found a little piece of paper. He held it up to his eyes in confusion.

good morning, hongi♡

He immediately recognized your handwriting, his eyes welling up with tears at the sweet gesture.

Reading your little message, it was a little easier to leave bed and go to the bathroom. He wasn't feeling like showering but maybe he could at least brush his teeth.

When he looked into the mirror he was faced with his own reflection. It was himself but it also wasn't. He looked so tired and done. He looked like such a pain to have around.

But then he noticed the little sticky note that was stuck on the mirror:

you're looking at my favorite person right now♡ (better be nice to him!!)

He felt his heart swell with fondness. When he looked back at his own reflection now, he tried to be a little kinder— for you.

He still looked tired and done. But he got out of bed! And even if Hongseok struggled to understand it right now, it was clear that you didn't think of him as a pain to be with.

Of course, a small sticky note couldn't be a fix-it-all, but Hongseok felt a little better. Less like a lost cause.

He brushed his teeth. He even washed his face and put on fresh clothes.

When he was done, his stomach was rumbling. Maybe he could get something easy from the kitchen?

It didn't take long for him to notice the little note on the fridge.

please eat something delicious, my love♡

He smiled to himself before opening the fridge. Inside he found a little plate with cut up apples, another sticky note attached to it:

an apple a day~

And then a small breakfast bowl with another one:

it's all your favorites :] (and lots of protein)

He took out both, already feeling like crying again from how much these gestures moved him.

When he sat down to eat, spotting the note on the table, the tears spilled out for real.

i love you♡

He wasn't sure how he deserved you. He'd felt so guilty for not being there for you these days. He'd felt so terrible and like such a nuisance.

And yet, you showered him with nothing but love and affection.

After eating, he curled up on the couch under thick blankets, watching some random show on TV, only to notice that on the coffee table too was a little note:

i love you♡

When he took a closer look around the flat, he noticed there was another one on the window.

One in the hallway.

The front door.

The book shelf.

Your pillow.

As if you had really, really wanted to make sure that the message reached him. No matter how his day went, no matter what he did and whether or not he saw the other notes, he should at least know that you love him.

He was still feeling emotional about it by the time you came back from work. He'd gone back to bed, but he was less miserable than he was in the morning.

You greeted him with a smile, immediately wrapping him in a hug. You wanted to pull away again but Hongseok didn't let you. He held onto you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder.

"Are you okay, Hongi?" You carefully asked, your hands running up and down his back in slow movements.

"Yeah, I'm o—" He interrupted himself, realizing that maybe it was okay to admit it wasn't exactly true. "I'm better."

You hummed in response, holding him a little closer.

"Y/n?"

"Mmh?"

"Thank you for today."

You chuckled softly. "Of course."

"No, it's not— it's not a given," he insisted, his face still buried in your neck. "I don't know how I deserve that."

You pushed away a bit to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"How you deserve that?" You shook your head. "You don't need to deserve it. You don't need to earn anything. I love you so I want to be there for you."

"Besides," you let go of him to pull out a journal from your nightstand.

You motioned for Hongseok to scoot over a bit and sat down next to him in bed, before handing him the small book.

"You deserve it plenty, Hongseok."

Confused, he took the journal from you and carefully opened it.

Love letters it said on the first page, unmistakably in your handwriting.

He started turning the pages just to find all his little sticky notes that he'd written for you, neatly glued into the journal. Small good morning’s and i love you’s littered the pages.

He turned to look at you with wide eyes. "You kept them?"

"Of course I kept them." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "You know, whenever I see your notes around the flat I immediately feel better. And when I have a bad day or need some courage I can always look into my journal. It helps. It really helps."

You absentmindedly moved your hand to his, gently tracing the lines with your fingers. "I wanna be there for you like that too. You also deserve to be taken care of, Hongseok.”

He wrapped his hand around yours, squeezing lightly.

"Thank you."

"Always"

"I love you, y/n."

"I love you too.”

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