> Pairings- Redacted x GN Reader
> Tags- Fluff, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff. Redacted being a teasing menace.
> Summary- Redacted is a model boyfriend. Gentle, supportive, affectionate—but all bets are off when they are neglected by their Angel.
> Redacted belongs to @14dayswithyou
The scent of coffee on pages.
Literal Coffee on the pages—what in the actual hell.
Your head snapped up, eyes narrowed to slits, glaring at the imposing man hovering nearby, “Babe”
“Mmhm,” Redacted hummed, casually nudging the sopping books under the table with their foot. Mirth dancing behind his cautious pout.
Beautiful azure eyes, bambified and bamboozling in their intention, answered your glare with slow blinks. Strategically timed, offending really.
“You realize I have eyes right?” You were beyond the point of anger now. Instead you’d transcended to the higher plane of acceptance, as you pushed your chair back and began pacing.
“But Angel, my hand slipped…”
“—it’s the third book in the last hour. Conan has left me in-charge, none of the employees are ready to stay back, we have a whole order of new books coming in and you—“
“—Angel relax,” Redacted leaned over the table. Two large hands came up to cup your cheeks, giving them a gentle squish.
Once, twice, effectively cutting you off mid-spiral.
“Good. Now, breathe.” He leaned in close, closer, until his nose brushed yours. Light as a tease. Lingering as a promise.
“How?” You raised an unamused brow.
You knew what this was all about. It was a busy day at the library. Packed schedule, short-staffed, while you barely looked at him, buried under the work and papers.
You couldn’t even hold it against him.
Even though you didn’t acknowledge Redacted, they were there—passing you the books, while you stamped and arranged them on the shelves.
Standing behind you, gently holding your waist, whenever you climbed the ladder.
Hand feeding you meals as you sat on the cold tiled floor, unpacking the tower of boxes.
You reveled in the gentle care. Appreciated the quiet company. But by tea time, Redacted decided to make his presence known.
Unbeknownst to him though, you knew.
The first time, you saw something akin to jealousy on their face. Saw them watch the books with a sharp disdain as they knocked a pile clean off the table. With a grumble and a lazy flick of his finger.
The second time, he sat on a box, cross-legged, impish, making you pretend to search for it.
They became clumsy. So much so, that he accidentally dropped two cups, splashing the hot liquid all across the table.
“Never tell an angry person to calm down,” you murmured, nose flaring in annoyance, despite yourself.
“That so Angel? But I’m asking ya t’breathe. There’s a difference, no?” He nuzzled up close, just so you could feel a hint of a kiss at the corner of your mouth.
You knew you were being cornered. Redacted was armed, with affection and retribution as his weapon of choice.
“—and y’er choosing dusty old books o’er me—”
“—you ruined three books, what would I tell Conan—“
But you couldn’t reply. Not when you felt his lips press onto yours. Firm, slow, and warm like the coffee he had brought for you— neglected on the table long enough for the wisps of steam to condense into vapor, much like Redacted’s patience.
You could hear the birds chirping in the distance, bidding farewell to the day. The sun outside melted like chocolate—mocha on his tongue, and you sighed.
They felt like an open window in a cramped library, and you found yourself wanting more.
But when you pulled him closer, insistent fingers at his nape, craving a thorough taste, they bit at your lower lip in playful rejection. In silent chastisement.
A petty retaliation for the past few hours.
You could feel his lips slant into a cheeky grin against your mouth. His snake-bites poked the plush of your lips just right, sharp enough to make them tingle in anticipation.
“Wait Angel, y’er still at work,” Redacted whispered, feather soft against your ear, and you suppressed a shiver.
“Uh huh. Didn’t stop you earlier though, did it?” You groaned, feeling your pride drip down the table’s edge, like the remainder of coffee from those styrofoam cups.
“But, y’were mad at me f’ruining the books weren’t you?,” they drawled, sneaking a soft bite at the shell of your ear.
“So you agree you did it on purpose?” You leaned back, hooking a finger through the choker on their neck, and tugging him close.
“—Coleridge must be awful mad at you right now.”
That earned you a snicker. Low, amused, and entirely yours.
“Coffee, Coffee, everywhere—“ They deadpanned, twirling a stray strand of your hair around their finger.
“Very funny. You didn’t save any for me”
He didn’t reply. Instead he yanked you close, one arm on your waist, the other tugging at your hair in a firm, grounding grip, “Want a taste Angel?”
And you complied. Chocolate, dark espresso, cherry on his tongue—just the way you liked.
Coffee-soaked mess lay forgotten under the table, and somewhere Conan’s account chimed with notifications—payment receipts for three ruined books.
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