#bell chime timer

[1d1195]

Under Construction I

Read Under Construction here | ~5.6k

From Me: this is going to be a bit of a slow burn, totally unsure how many parts it will be and how on earth it's going to go. I have no end in mind right now or any climactic parts. P.S. I had to give her a last name, I couldn't see a way to get around it, but I tried to pick on that would match the nickname Harry was going to give her.

Warning: fluffy, cute, maybe a little angsty in my teacher-brain mind.

Summary: Harry nodded. “I’d be happy t’help.”

“Oh, that’s completely unnecessary,” she assured him. “I can’t imagine you really want to be here after a long day of manual labor on a Friday no less and—”

“Miss Bird, I would imagine s’not nearly as draining as trying t’wrangle and keep the attention of twenty-something six-year-olds, for six hours a day,” he interrupted and looked at her knowingly. “M’happy t’help.”

“Miss Bee! DJ took my crayon right out of my hand!” She turned from the table of four she was working with and glanced behind her to see DJ coloring and Janie pouting. She sighed.

“Janie, my love, there’s more crayons in the craft drawers,” she reminded her.

“But I was using that one!”

“I know, and DJ, you know better than to take something out of someone’s hand while they’re using it, please give it back,” she said knowingly. He frowned and dropped the crayon on the table. “Thank you,” she nodded appreciatively and turned back to her table.

“Miss Bee, I think DJ like-likes Janie,” Mae giggled.

“Ew,” Kaleb wrinkled his nose.

“It’s not polite to gossip, Mae,” she said knowingly. “Now can you guys tell me what’s wrong with this sentence?” She asked and held the whiteboard out. She watched the eight pairs of eyes scrutinize the marker.

The other students were at their stations learning and discovering. It was the last round of rotations. When the little bell chimed from the countdown on her SmartBoard they would head to the carpet for story time.

Her classroom was the stuff of dreams—or at the very least her dream. There were colorful posters around the room. Inspirational messages and words of kindness all about her space. The cubbies were filled with lunch boxes and snacks. Their little closet spaces hung their fall coats and backpacks. When they headed to lunch, she would sift through their take-home folders and make sure to gather notes and questions from parents and fill it with the weekly letter she sent to their family.

It was her fourth year of teaching kindergarten, and she loved it so much. The kids were so happy to see her each day, and it felt like she had a family of twenty. Each of her students was so sweet and lovely. This year she had really felt she had won the lottery with how good they were. Over the weekend she missed them. On holidays she was antsy about coming back to school and ask how they enjoyed their family time.

She was exhausted too, there was no doubt about that. Little ones were needy—over the smallest of things. Like the crayon stealing. Or the tummy aches. Sometimes the six-year-olds were just overtired or overstimulated and needed a hug.

But even her toughest kids loved her too. The parent night held just a couple weeks into the school year told her that. “He has never been excited for daycare or for school, but he is so excited for this year of kindergarten.”

The timer sounded off and like little, adorable robots her sweet students picked up their stations and settled all the items they were using back into place. She thanked her current group, and she marked where the current four were so she could pick up where they left off on Monday.

The group of students hurried to the carpet, sitting cross legged on the colorful squares. “All my friends love to sit quietly on a primary color while we wait for story time!” She had a lilt in her voice that wasn’t quite singing, but perhaps close to it. She watched as the students giggled helping each other remember what a primary color was as they all shifted around the rectangle looking for a spot. What they didn’t know is it helped spread them out a bit and would help them keep their hands to themselves while they waited much more patiently than any six-year-old had a right to.

“All my friends love to be super quiet,” she whispered putting her fingers to her lips. “We have to pick our friend who will lead us through the opener for the day,” she reminded them.

They all put their fingers on their lips; their eyes hopeful of being chosen. She pulled a popsicle stick from a cup and pulled out the name. “Milo,” she grinned. “Would you like to lead us today?” She always gave them a choice. Sometimes the little ones were much too shy.

He grinned shyly. “Okay, Miss Bee.”

She sat on her chair; a rocking one she thrifted from a local shop. A lot of her classroom was that way. A teacher on a budget. Organizing drawers and old bins that were a little worn and loved. Bookshelves that had been found at garage sales and even her office chair wasn’t brand new.

But she loved it and her students loved it too.

She watched Milo walk up to the board where she had everything spelled out for him and she waited patiently for him to read. “Today is Friday, October 5th,” he said softly. “We have art at specials time today,” his voice got quieter with his nerves of speaking in front of his whole class. A small snicker started and she turned to the culprit narrowing her eyes at him not harshly, but enough to make him know she meant business. The little one silenced himself and she returned her attention to Milo.

“Isn’t Milo doing a great job?” She whispered to the little one beside her.

Milo pushed his shoulders back a little and continued. “Today we’re going to start Char-lotties Web.”

“Good job sounding that out Milo!” She cheered. “It’s a tough name. It’s called Charlotte’s Web. Can everyone say that?”

She waited while everyone repeated, and Milo continued.

“It’s the thirty-seventh day of school.”

She watched all the little ones with rapt attention on their classmate while he read through the daily schedule. This was his second go around and by the end of the year she anticipated he would do it with ease and no anxiety. He was adorable, just like the rest of her group.

“Before we have our little math lesson we’re going to read the first chapter of Charolotte’s Web. Based on the title and the picture on the front does anyone have any guesses about what the story is about?”

A fleet of hands shot into their air and she smiled. She was a lucky teacher. “Hadley, do you have an idea?” She asked.

“A spider,” she wrinkled her nose.

“I know,” she agreed dramatically. “We all know how much Miss Bee hates spiders.” The class giggled as she pulled the book from the shelf. “Can anyone tell me who the author is?” She asked holding the book out for everyone to see clearly. “Raise your hand!” She added as they all opened their mouths to say it.

The little hands fluttered into the air again and right as she spoke Amara’s name, a loud bang sounded from outside. The little ones screamed; their eyes filled with horror as they were clearly terrified by the loud noise. It even spooked her so she went to investigate.

“Shh, shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay,” she placed the book on her chair and headed toward the window. Instantly her eyes were drawn to the construction crew next door dropping piles of wood and building materials. Fuck, she mouthed to herself and if the kids weren’t so freaked out, they might have noticed her saying the bad word in the reflection of the glass. “Don’t worry everyone, it’s just the construction workers.”

“Construction paper isn’t that loud Miss Bee,” Mae frowned. “It sounded like an elephant fell down!”

The rest of the class giggled, and she smiled. “I suppose it did,” she hummed. The noise continued. The sound of trucks backing up and the like. It was going to be a long few months of work and trying to teach at the same time. “Construction workers, my love, not paper,” she corrected. “It’s people who make buildings and things.”

They chatted behind her to one another offering instances in which they had seen construction done in their neighborhoods or that their uncle was a construction worker. Or that even they had helped their mom and dad with some work around the house.

For a few moments she considered her next plan of action. She briefly turned to the schedule Milo was reading. A quick detour and impromptu lesson on future career options, math in motion, and communication skills, could be managed and even helpful if it meant she could convince her class there wasn’t anything to be scared of nor would they need to find the noise distracting if they knew what it was and could work on tuning it out.

“Alright guys and gals, why don’t we put on our coats and see what our neighbors are up to?” she said with the air of going on an adventure while she grabbed her own coat from the small thin closet behind her desk. It housed her school bag, her coat, and her lunch bag.

The kids all hustled excitedly to put on their coats while she called the main office to let them know she would be outside with her class, and she was bringing the walkie talkie in case of an emergency. Tyler was line leader, so he led the group behind her, and her line ender was Zara making sure the back half of the group was okay too. They walked in a straight line and followed one another at about an arm’s length. A trick she learned in student-teaching so her students wouldn’t want to touch one another with excitement.

They headed outside and they played a couple rounds of eye spy as they made their way up the path toward the parking lot. She turned around, walking backwards grateful of her early morning outfit choice today was pants with comfy shoes and not a dress and her favorite wedge booties. “All my friends love to be really careful near the parking lot, and listen to Miss Bee so no one gets hurt,” she reminded them. “All of my friends know they have to listen to Miss Bee or they will not have show and tell this week.”

They all zipped their lips and threw away the key as they walked toward the fence where the playground’s baseball field turned into the driveway next door where the construction was beginning. The little ones all oohed and ahhed over the big trucks and pressed their faces against the chain link fence as the materials were brought into the area.

“Wow, that’s the biggest truck I’ve ever sawed,” Brayden whispered.

“Ever seen, my love,” she corrected gently. “Okay, who can tell me one thing they’ve never seen before and have a question about?”

Immediately hands flew up into the air but before she could call on anyone, they were interrupted.

“They told me we were going t’have a young crew for this job, didn’t think everyone would be this young.”

She turned her attention to the man approaching the fence and she felt her heart flutter like a hummingbird against her chest. The man was tall, sinewy from being part of a construction crew and doing all the manual labor, she was sure. He wore a T-shirt with the company’s logo across the front Under Construction that stretched perfectly over muscular pectorals. A white hard hat was on top of his head but she could see swirls of brown hair peeking out from underneath. There were the standard work boots and pants of a construction worker on his lower half but that was all she really noted of his body.

It was his face that drew her in. His eyes, his smile, even his eyebrows seemed to catch her interest. His face had the slightest scruff on his cheeks and over his top lip. He was deadly handsome and she momentarily forgot she and her little ones were the only thing there. “We’re not here to work,” Mae giggled.

She shook her head and smiled. “No, sorry we can’t be part of the crew,” she said apologetically.

“We were going to do math, but Miss Bee wanted to show us the scary noises,” Milo explained bravely.

“Ah,” he caught her eye. Did his smile grow? She must have imagined it. Was it hot out? It was early October, and the nice fall breeze was blowing a chill in the air, and she felt like she was about to sweat through her clothes and wish she hadn’t worn her jacket. Holy shit, he was hot. “Are you Miss Bee then?”

“It’s actually Miss Bird,” Kai explained. “But Miss Bee is a nickname.”

“Bird,” he repeated. “Nice to meet you, Miss Bird,” he held his hand out. “I’m Harry, Harry Styles.”

“Harry,” she answered. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles.”

He smirked at the formality but held her hand an extra second longer before letting go. Surely, she imagined that.

Harry saw the gaggle of children and the woman alongside them about five minutes prior as they approached the fence between the playground and the building site. “We got company boss,” Niall smiled while he moved some of the materials across the site with the help of his forklift. Harry turned toward the group and was in awe of the woman that could wrangle a group of little ones like that so effortlessly. As he got closer he became a little more entranced by her. She was all bright colors, her pants were firetruck red, and her jacket was a bright pink. She had an off-white bandanna or wrap in her hair of some kind that came to a knot at the top of her head from underneath her hair. She was beautiful. Obviously. Harry thought she was lucky she didn’t teach older kids because they would probably get nothing done staring at the pretty woman for hours on end. She looked so young too—no way older kids would take her seriously. But the little ones seemed to adore her, waiting patiently while they looked on with fascination.

She held a walkie-talkie in her left hand while she shook Harry’s hand during introductions.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her smile and the way she looked fondly at her students while he introduced himself.

“We didn’t mean t’scare you all. We’re putting in a new fire and police station here t’keep you safe,” he explained to the little ones. “The noises y’heard were us putting the materials down.”

They all watched expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “Could they ask a question?” She smiled sweetly at him. “They’re waiting for you to say they can ask questions; it’s kind of a thing in the classroom,” she wrinkled her nose so cutely as she explained.

“Oh—right, yeah,” he chuckled. Harry wasn’t totally sure how a group of six-year-olds could have questions about what very little they had seen thus far, but he couldn’t wait to hear it. “Of course...do y’have questions?” Harry felt a little silly not seeing what inquisitive little minds she was molding behind the fence barrier.

However, all twenty hands shot into the air. She giggled and shook her head. “We aren’t getting to all the questions,” she laughed. “Mae, you can start,” she said.

One of the girls in the middle turned to Harry. “Why’s your hat white?”

“It means I’m in charge of everyone over there,” he explained. “It’s called being a foreman.”

“So, you’re like Miss Bee, she’s in charge of us,” Mae reminded him.

“Yes, just like Miss Bee,” he agreed catching her eye. She bit the inside of her lip and glanced at her line of students.

“Milo, do you have a question to ask?”

The boy toward the end of the line looked shyly at Harry and he grinned before looking at his feet. He mumbled something toward the ground and Harry took a few steps closer, bending in front of the fence. “Can y’repeat that for me, lad? I didn’t catch it.”

“How do you know where to put stuff?” He asked.

“We have maps and outlines of where stuff is going to go,” Harry grinned.

“It’s kind of like the maps we made of towns, remember?” She prompted. “Where we would put the school, the houses—”

“The ice cream shop!” Someone else called out from the other end of the line. The rest giggled and she nodded with her beautiful, ever-present smile.

“Yes, the important things if you recall,” she glanced at Harry apologetically. “One more question, then we have to head back inside for snack time.”

“But Miss Bee! I have a lot of questions!” DJ pouted.

“Me too!”

“I do too!”

The chatter started to become a little loud and overwhelming as they reminded her that they had many questions for Harry and he smirked at her as she shook her head. “All my friends love to turn on their listening ears and turn off their voices,” she practically sang. Instantly, they were soundless.

“Wow,” Harry murmured. “I should try that on my crew.”

They all giggled, and she smiled at him apologetically once more. “Zara, do you want to ask your question?” She asked.

“How do you know what tool to use?”

“It depends on what y’have t’do, but I had t’learn which tool t’use by going t’school,” he explained.

“You went to school too!?”

“That was another question!”

“It doesn’t count!”

“Miss Bee!”

“Hey, hey, hey! Hocus pocus,” she called gently.

“Time to focus!” They all silenced themselves.

“Wow,” Harry was in awe of her. That was almost superhero powered in nature.

“Mr. Harry, could we write our questions down to have you answer?” Tyler asked.

“That’s a great idea Tyler, but Mr. Styles has to—”

“I would love t’do that,” he offered immediately and caught her eye. “This project is going t’be a while,” he explained.

“Mr. Harry,” Janie asked pulling on his pant leg through the fence. “Could you fix Miss Bee’s desk? It’s all crooked,” she explained.

“Janie, my love,” she said softly, her cheeks turning the same shade of pink as her jacket. She was adorable and Harry was putty already. “That’s not very polite to ask. Mr. Styles is working,” she explained. “It would be like asking you to do your adding while you’re doing your sentences.”

Harry grinned almost apologetically as he caught her eye once more. “I could take a look at it,” he offered. “When does school get out?”

“Oh, that’s okay—”

“We line up for the bus at three-fifteen. That’s when the clock looks like this,” and they all turned to put their hands together to the left of their bodies, surely to mimic the hands of the clock where indeed, it would look like three-fifteen.

Harry grinned. She was a cool teacher to teach all these inquisitive little minds. “All my friends love to thank Mr. Styles for taking time out of his day to teach us about construction work,” she said knowingly and looked at him once more.

“Thank you, Mr. Harry,” they all sang.

“I said Mr. Styles.”

“But Mr. Harry is like a nickname, like you Miss Bee.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, Tyler, are you ready to lead?” She asked and waved to Harry.

As the line departed, he watched until he couldn’t see the pretty woman or the cute little ones any longer before he turned back to his job site. Niall rolled over on his forklift once more and popped out of the seat to stand beside him. “How was kindergarten?” He asked.

“They’re funny,” he smirked. “And very cute.”

“The kids or the teacher?”

“Both,” he shook his head, smiling to himself. “Get back t’work,” he mumbled and headed toward the other workers.

*

Harry watched the little ones boarding their buses and their teachers wave from below the overhang of the drop-off port as the kids left for the weekend. He could see the bright red pants and pink jacket from where he stood by the fence once more and a few students called out to him. “Bye Mr. Harry!”

She turned instantly and found him there. Harry’s crew was also leaving (trying to beat the buses before they got stuck behind) but Harry was without his hat now, waiting by the fence. He waved to the little ones, feeling a bit like a superstar with all the eyes that looked over at him. But he swore he could feel the pretty woman’s eyes boring into him more than the others.

He hopped over the fence now that the children were on the buses and parents had their children in cars. “Hi,” he smiled as he approached her. Her pretty lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Her eyes scanned his face for recognition as to why he would be approaching her after the kids had left. “M’here t’look at your desk,” he explained.

“Oh!” She shook her head. “That’s okay. It’s Friday. I’m sure you have better plans than—”

“I don’t mind,” he offered with a shrug.

“Um...” she swallowed. “It’s really alright, I don’t want to put you out—”

“S’very okay, Miss Bird,” he teased. “M’happy to take a look.”

She nodded. “Okay, well...we just have to get you signed in at the office.”

“Sure,” he smiled.

“Do you have your license?” She asked.

He nodded and followed after her. They stopped at the front of the office, one of the older women greeting and going through the spiel of being a visitor. “Will you be here often?” She asked. “We could do a background check to make things simpler.”

“Oh, he’s just working nex—”

“That would be great, thank you, ma’am.”

She pressed her lips together, but Harry swore he could see the corners of her mouth twitching upward. Harry quickly filled out the information on the form and once he had a visitor tag on the front of his shirt, he followed her down the hall. The school was definitely older. It was part of the reason the safety buildings were getting an upgrade. The whole town was a bit older. They were silent as she led down the hall, her arms crossed over her stomach, he followed her down a stairwell and they stopped as a custodian greeted her.

“Hi Miss Bee, staying late today?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll keep my mess to a minimum,” she promised.

“Not a problem Miss Bee,” he was a bit older too. Clearly, he was used to seeing her around after hours. Late? How late did she stay? It was Friday. Didn’t teachers race to get out of the building on Fridays?

“I like to set up my classroom for next week,” she explained. “It’s a little easier to have everything planned out.”

“Well, I won’t keep you,” he promised.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” her cheeks flushing pink once more. “I’m a little embarrassed,” she explained unlocking her classroom door.

“S’nothing t’be embarrassed ‘bout. M’happy t’take a look.”

“I guess...but they shouldn’t have said anything. Six-year-olds. You can’t tell them anything.”

He chuckled. “S’fine,” putting his hands in his pockets as she pushed the door open. It felt like being transported into another world. A bright, colorful, sunny world. There were windows overlooking the yard separating the building and a soccer field. There were string lights around the top of the wall, along with floor lamps placed around the room as well. There was almost a separate room for her colorful carpet where an old rocking chair was situated in front of the whiteboard. On the other side of the room were her play items for the kids as well as tables and little chairs for her kids. There was artwork and displays of all her students’ work around every free space of the walls. All organized and stapled properly at regular spaced intervals.

Harry would have loved being her student, he thought, but he was glad he could get to know the pretty lady as she was right now.

At the back of the class near another door, there was her desk. Underneath one of the legs was a stack of old books. Harry frowned. It was very crooked.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks. I like to believe I’m pretty resourceful so that was one of the easier fixes of the classroom.”

He sucked his cheek a bit and nodded. “Is there anything else you’d like me t’look at?”

She shook her head. “No, really. It’s okay, this is too much as is,” she said hurriedly. It was hardly anything. “You’ve had a really long day.”

But as if her classroom knew that Harry was there, the wooden sign above the door they just walked through fell off the wall. He smirked while her cheeks turned another shade redder and she winced practically with her whole body. “M’happy t’look around,” he offered. “You’re here late?” He asked and knelt beside her desk inspecting it. It was old. A fairly solid wooden structure but Harry could see it was made mostly of cheap particle board. There was no way that this was up to the fire code instructed by the public buildings in town.

“Uhh...yeah. I have to make copies and cut some stuff out for my new bulletin board,” she explained. “I also like to do a little extra cleaning on Fridays. The custodians have a lot to do so I try to do my fair share,” she went to the little closet behind her desk built into the wall. The door stuck a bit as she pulled it open and she hung her pink jacket up and pulled out a broom and disinfectant wipes.

Harry nodded. “I’d be happy t’help.”

“Oh, that’s completely unnecessary,” she assured him. “I can’t imagine you really want to be here after a long day of manual labor on a Friday no less and—”

“Miss Bird, I would imagine s’not nearly as draining as trying t’wrangle and keep the attention of twenty-something six-year-olds, for six hours a day,” he interrupted and looked at her knowingly. “M’happy t’help.”

She watched Harry for a few moments surprised by how kind he was to a complete stranger. “Could I take these drawers out?” He asked.

“Um...” she swallowed. “If you can open them.”

He tilted his head at her with a smirk. “Is there a point t’having this desk?”

“I found it at a yard sale. It’s kind of my thing,” she explained. “Most of the shelves, chairs, et cetera are from yard sales. I’m a teacher on a budget kind of thing. They just need some TLC. I say I’m going to do it over the summer, but I tutor a bunch, babysit, and whatnot so I haven’t had the time. This is my fourth year of teaching so I’m hoping this summer will be different now that I won’t be preparing lessons much now that I know what I’m doing for the most part.”

Harry watched her as she spoke, a gentle smile on his face. God, she was cute. Without her coat, she was wearing a blue almost denim looking shirt and she looked so adorable he wanted to pick her up and twirl her around like she was a princess. “I think you’re a superhero,” he told her.

Her face flushed once more and she turned to the tables lower than any normal table Harry had ever sat at (especially for his tall frame) and she knelt to wipe the surfaces. Harry turned to the desk letting her settle with the compliment he offered. He tugged the drawers out, with effort. A piece of particle board splintered a bit but given the drawer was empty, he didn’t think she would mind much. But Harry would rather build her a new desk altogether. “I don’t sit much,” she added.

“Mm,” he hummed. “Shouldn’t take an act of God t’get a drawer open.”

He lifted the desk off the books once the weight of the drawers was out of the way. He carefully moved her piles of items and organizers onto the floor taking mental pictures of her setup. There was a framed photo of her and a man and his heart almost gave out at the thought that the pretty girl was taken. He glanced at her wiping the desks, her left hand bare of any rings. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, but there was no way he could ask if she was taken. He gently placed her laptop on the back counter behind him and then tilted the desk onto it’s side.

The weight of her gaze was prominent on his face, but he ignored it, focusing on her desk and hoping to make her life a little better. “S’this little screw for the leg.”

“Yeah, I figured. It was too stuck for me. I tried using some WD-40 but I didn’t get much luck.”

He pictured the pretty girl in her bright red pants trying to get her desk to unstick. Resourceful she was. “I think I have some in m’car, I’ll go pop out.”

“Let me prop this door open,” she offered and went to the classroom door labeled with a giant two. Just follow that path up,” she pointed. Harry hurried out waiting until he was out of her sightline to all but run to his car and back. He returned with a selection of random tools he grabbed and walked back to her classroom.

“—shouldn’t stay late on a Friday,” he hated how jealous he was of a man’s voice. “Come out with El and I,” the voice offered.

“Louis, I’m exhausted. I will come over tomorrow. I can’t even imagine talking to the two of you right now and I love you guys.”

“I know,” the voice sighed. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Course not.”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes.

“That isn’t very kind of you Miss Kindergarten,” the voice answered with attitude.

Harry cleared his throat as he returned. “I gotta go, Louis. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t stay too late, Miss Bee,” he sang.

She continued sweeping and glanced at Harry’s tools. “You really don’t have to do this,” she reminded him.

“Happy t’help,” he assured her. She seemed pretty adamant though. He wondered why she felt so uncomfortable asking for help. His eyes dropped to her left hand once more looking for a tan line or any indication she was taken. “M’a big fan of teachers,” he promised. “Had some really good ones,” he explained.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “If you’re sure. I don’t want to be a bother.”

Harry wondered who on earth made this saint of a woman feel like a burden. Her desk was old and rickety. It was hardly rocket science to fix it and it wasn’t even that heavy. The drawers stuck, which Harry would tackle next, but otherwise what was so difficult? He sprayed the screw at the foot of her desk and gave it a spin, but it didn’t work. He pulled a wrench from his toolbox and tried to get better leverage. “There we go,” he mumbled to himself as the screw unstuck. He untwisted it all the way and sprayed both the screw and the hole. He twisted the metal piece back in and smiled feeling glad he made her life a little easier. He stood, tipped the desk back to it’s rightful position. He put weight with his hands to ensure all the legs were the same length and he wiped his hands on his pants.

“There’s a bathroom through that door—everything is low because of the kids though,” she pointed toward the one right near him.

“Thanks bird,” he smiled and headed through it. Whoops, he thought to himself.

He rinsed his hands with soap quickly admiring the bright, neon green paper that said you should sing Happy Birthday to yourself twice to get the germs off while washing your hands. He imagined she heard happy birthday all day long and found that adorable.

When he reentered her room, she was already putting things back, including trying to get the sticky drawer back into position. “Oh, I can do that, love. Don’t hurt yourself,” he hurried over and grabbed the drawer from her grip.

“Thank you so much for doing this, this is so lovely,” she frowned. “Can I pay you or something?”

“Absolutely not,” he chuckled. “S’hardly anything, bird,” he assured her and jimmied the drawer back into position. “Y’can keep doing your thing. I’ll put everything back.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “Thank you,” she repeated.

“You’re welcome, seriously. S’hardly nothing.”

“No but it is,” she assured him. “I don’t mean to dump this all on you but my ex-boyfriend made it very clear that I put too much effort into my job and that all the extra time I didn’t get paid for didn’t mean anything because caring so much didn’t get me anything more. But I love this room and all it’s little quirks but this means the world to me, honestly. I want one of those Pinterest perfect classrooms in some ways, but I don’t think I’ll ever get it because this school is old and I don’t have the money, time, or energy I’d like to fix a lot of the things I probably need to. I don’t think I’m explaining it quite right and I’m sorry I just dumped all that on you, but I don’t think anyone has ever done anything this kind for me.”

Harry felt bad that his assumptions were correct, but he loved the way she let all of that out. He listened to every word with bated breath grateful for the word ex. It didn’t mean she didn’t have a current boyfriend, but it put into perspective why she was so overwhelmed by Harry’s little help. “Well, Miss Bee, m’at your service,” he assured her.

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Shinsuke Kita is a man who likes what he likes and gives little thought to things he doesn't. He'll go about his daily routine: rise with the sun, eat, morning ablutions, out to the fields until lunch, take a break, then back into the fields until dinner, do chores around the house then a small past time or two until it's time for bed. Unless it's the weekend or a game day, then he goes to Onigiri Miya to catch up with Osamu, Gin, Akagi and Omimi around lunch time.

However, he finds himself going to Onigiri Miya a little earlier on some days with the hopes of catching you while you're on shift. You're a part-timer and university student—but Osamu has been telling him that you have the chops to run the restaurant by yourself. "I know I don't hafta worry about leavin' for an hour or so. S'good feeling, Kita."

It's easier to like someone if a friend vouches for them. Yes, that must be the reason he's fond of you, because Osamu is. He arrives at the restaurant an hour early—an electronic bell chimes through as he enters. It's busy as usual but there's no line.

"Welcome!" You look up from the register and beam. "Kita-san! I'll call the boss over, he's in the back doing inventory."

Before he can protest, you've bounced away. He hears a muffled conversation the opening of a door and a moment later Osamu takes your place with a raised eyebrow. "Yer awfully early, Kita. S'not delivery day is it?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. Just... Had some spare time."

"Spare time huh." Osamu repeats, like he's tasting the words for the first time. "Well, did ya want anythin' ta eat? The usual?"

"Sure, that'll do."

"Uh-huh." Osamu leans back to shout into the kitchen. "Go ahead and make Kita his usual!"

You respond in a sing-song voice. "Already started!"

Shinsuke can't help the grin that hitches onto his features even as Osamu casts a wary but amused eye over him. The two men make eye contact for a few beats before Osamu sighs. "Please don't go scarin' off some of the only good help I've been able ta find."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah-huh."

But nothing else can be said on the subject because you emerge from the back with a tray laden with food. There's even a side of fried tofu—not typically part of his order. You must have seen him looking because you hurriedly explain, "The boss said you like tofu, so I just did some up. I hope that's ok." Osamu rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen, catching Kita's eye as he goes.

"S'just fine." Kita takes the tray. "But I'd like to repay ya."

"You don't have to do that! It's my pleasure." You try and reassure.

"Then it'd be my pleasure to make ya dinner some time. Could do it today, after the game if that's ok?"

As you fumble through saying yes, Shinsuke savors his first bite of food. Yeah, he could eat your cooking for the rest of his life he thinks. It would be a nice addition to his routine.

[bibli0thecary]

empty table ౨ৎ

pairing: baker! joel miller x reader

In a world with no outbreak, Joel Miller runs a popular bakery—grumpy, flour-dusted, and way too serious about sourdough. His daughters, Sarah and Ellie, are either helping or causing chaos behind the counter.

Then there’s you—a stressed-out grad student who starts doing your thesis in his cozy café. You only came for the pastries… and the baker.

read more: baker! joller miller series

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

It was a quarter past ten, and the damn bell hadn’t rung.

Not once.

Joel glanced at the door for what had to be the eighth time in three minutes. The usual morning crowd had thinned out, replaced by the quiet lull of late-morning regulars and the hum of the espresso machine. Ellie was arguing with Sarah about putting whipped cream on everything, and the twins working the register were too busy bickering over the playlist to notice how distracted he was.

He wiped his hands on his apron and stared at your usual spot. Still empty.

Again.

“Maybe she’s got class,” Sarah said behind him, unprompted but obviously reading his mind. “Or maybe—just maybe—she realized she can’t finish a thesis on lemon scones alone.”

Joel grunted. “She always comes in on Tuesdays. Same time.”

Ellie grinned like a cat who smelled weakness. “You miss her, big guy?”

He rolled his eyes. “She just... brings in steady business, is all.”

“Oh totally,” Sarah chimed in. “You give all our ‘steady business’ customers free scones and soup when they skip lunch, huh?”

“Didn’t realize lemon scones were a love language,” Ellie added with a snort. “But hey, you do you, Baker Daddy.”

Joel paused mid-reach for the bread knife.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry. Daddy Baker.”

He turned to face them both with his best patented Grumpy Old Man glare, but it only made them laugh harder.

“You’re both insufferable,” he muttered, retreating to the back. Not because he was flustered, no, but because the oven timer was beeping. That’s all.

Definitely not because he kept checking his phone in secret.

By noon, it was starting to gnaw at him.

You hadn’t texted Sarah. You hadn’t messaged Ellie. No little ping from you asking for “your usual table,” or a smiley face followed by Save me a scone before I cry.

You weren’t just a customer anymore. Hadn’t been for a while, if Joel was honest with himself. You were part of the rhythm of his week. The soft-spoken chaos to his gruff order. A quiet corner in his noisy life.

And now, without warning, you were missing.

His hands itched with the need to do something—knead dough, fix something broken, hell, rearrange the spice shelf if it’d shut his brain up. But instead, he found himself cleaning your table even though it was already spotless. Just in case. Just in—

Jingle.

The bell rang.

He looked up so fast he almost dropped the tray of croissants.

But it wasn’t you.

It wasn’t you again an hour later either.

Sarah came up behind him during closing, holding the broom like a staff.

“You know,” she said, not unkindly, “if you’re that worried, you could always text her.”

“I ain’t worried.”

“Right. Just cleaning the same table four times in one day for fun.”

He scowled.

Then sighed.

Then glanced at his phone, thumb hovering.

He wouldn’t text. Not yet. Maybe you just had a long day. Maybe life got in the way.

But if you weren’t back tomorrow…

He was gonna hunt you down with a basket of lemon scones and pretend it was strictly business.

Definitely not because his chest felt too damn quiet without you in it.

────୨ৎ────

taglist: @lcvespedro

[pearlywritings]

The Music of the Night

To get back on track with writing, I decided to make a somewhat writing event to produce short stories based on prompts as often as possible. Thus I invite you to participate in this little 'concert' of mine.

Event Masterlist

Some notes and Rules:

character x fem!reader (but can try to write without specifying gender).

1 character per ask. If one prompt is requested many times, I may combine the characters into one post.

1 character - 1 prompt.

~500 words per request (might be longer if I get carried away).

there can be fluff, angst, smut or even crack - and almost always it's going to be a gamble.

request any adult male character from HSR or Genshin. Which includes all playable, future playable, ones who LOOK like playable (*cough* Fatui Harbingers *cough*), I can even try some NPCs! First ones who come to mind: Crepus, Biram, Svarog, etc.

please, do not request Diluc. I am a bit tired of him.

and one more thing I want to note - this event's main purpose is to help me regain the will to write and test the capabiliities of my imagination, thus I am free to write the prompt according to the vision I have and to decline some of the asks for any reason.

Request:

for the sake of keeping it vague, I am asking you to simply send me the following combo: 'character's name' + 'musical instrument' + 'details if the prompt suggests it in the parentheses'

Prompts:

Since I couldn't settle on just one, this list is a mix of phrases, concepts and tropes

Accordion - work colleagues (platonic/romantic/up to me)

Bagpipes - overhearing how one partner talks about the other

Balalaika - cuteness aggression

Banjo - travel

Bassoon - not good enough

Bell - habit(s)

Biwa - exes

Castanets - opposites attract

Cello - challenge (fluff/smut/angst)

Clarinet - first time

Clavichord - dying in the arms of a lover

Domra - writing letters/texting

Double bass - one of you had a nightmare

Drums - “This was a mistake”

Erhu - “I will wait for you”

Euphonium - “I hate to say it, but I told you so”

Flute - morning after 😏 - was requested many times, so for now I won't be accepting this one (everyone who sent it before 17th of April, you are good)

Gaohu - too late to/for...

Guitar - random smut scenario

Guqin - broken in some way

Guzheng - arranged marriage

Harmonica - term of endearment

Harp - a gaze into the future/getting old together

Harpsichord - soulmates (you may suggest what king of: red thread of fate, tattoo of the first phrase a soulmate will tell you, a timer that counts the time before you two meet, colorblind until meeting the soulmate, etc)

Lute - tending to partner’s injuries

Lyre - showering/bathing together (fluff/smut)

Oboe - one of you gets jealous

Ocarina - spending time with your kid(s)

Piano - evening together

Pipe organ - random scenario (up to the writer (me))

Ratchet - the fight (can be the aftermath of it/making up)

Saxophone - kink (just write a kink)

Trombone - masquerade/ball

Trumpet - in denial/oblivious

Ukulele - cooking

Violin - date

Whistle - having/getting a pet

Wind Chimes - morning together

Xylophone - secret relationship

Zither - “It will never be the same again”

You alone can make my soul take flight

Help me make the Music of the Night

[fyxestroll]

Twelve: Cracks in the Garden

pairing: roboute guilliman x reader (fem.)

description: one of roboute's long-awaited visits is cut short by someone he should've expected

warnings: gallan being a creep, mentions of slaves/slavery

masterlist

prev<< | >> next

“It’s a draw then.”

Roboute couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face as he stared at the regicide board. His mind replays the game a hundred times trying to find a missed opportunity, a blunder on your he’d missed at the moment. He found none.

His disappointment deepens.

“You lost intentionally.”

“It’s a draw Roboute. Neither of us won nor lost.”

“Proposing a draw is considered the same as admitting defeat.” 

He expects a counter, a refute.

You don’t give him one. Instead, you reach across the table and squeeze his cheek. “Just take the win will you?”

Childishly he shakes his head and mutters a ‘no’. It’s the nth time you’ve done this, losing intentionally at your games of regicide at the very moment you would’ve gotten two over him. It frustrates him to no end and when he attempts to confront you, you’d simply squeeze his cheek or shrug. It’s safe to say that he’s never gotten an actual answer.

You begin to set the pieces on the board. “Do you want to go again?” 

“Sure. I choose black this time.” And he straightens himself and meets your eyes in challenge as he’d done so for years. A cool breeze blows by rustling the trees and tall shrubs in the garden sounding like the chime of small bells to Roboute’s ear. The sunlight that streamed through the thin canopy danced with the wind and gave your eyes a shine that outshined the seven wonders of Mcragge.

For a moment time slows as Roboute commits every single detail to memory. There’s a telltale warmth he feels in his chest as he observes you. He quickly pushes it down, and shoves the thought of addressing that warmth to the back of his mind. Doing so felt like that ancient myth of a girl and the box of misfortune.

You make your move.

Time resumes with the ding! of the timer.

The opening you went with is a simple one, the king’s pawn moved up twice. He mirrors the move and bumps the timer.

The few seconds of silence feel like hours as you think of your next move. This is the thrill Roboute has found in Regicde, it’s a subtle sort of thrill unlike the chariot races he’s come to enjoy as of late and it all depended on his opponent. It had less to do with skill and more so with knowing who faced him across the table.

It was all about knowing your enemy and  Roboute knows he knows you better than anybody else. Still, that did not mean you could no longer surprise him.

You move your king up.

Roboute exhales through his nose.

“Really?”

You shrug, pressing the timer once again. “Felt like trying something new.”

‘Guess that makes sense.’  He bobbles his head and moves up another pawn. Just as he sets the piece down a strong gust of wind knocks it over. He tries to pause the timer but is interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice calling out your name.

A quick glance at you and Roboute could tell you were not expecting this guest today.

“Dear!”

In a flash, there’s a smile on your face, “Uncle!” You greet the man, enthusiastically waving the man over. Roboute had always found Gallan awkward to be around, he was nice sure but something just felt wrong about him. That feeling had only solidified itself once he became his father’s aide nearly a year ago. 

Thanks to Tarasha he’s grown out of childishly expressing his dislike of the former consul-turned-senator, especially in front of you so he says nothing as your uncle kisses your cheeks and lingers half a second too long. He ignores the lead-weighted knots forming at the pit of his stomach.

A hand is held up to him and he shakes it. “Well, it’s good to see you too, Roboute.” 

He forces a polite smile, “To you as well, sir.” Gallan’s grip on his hands is clammy.

“Good, good. And your father, boy?”

And odd question. 

Roboute answers nonetheless, “He is well, sir.”

Gallan smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “That’s good to hear. I haven’t heard from him for a while now.” He lets go of Roboute’s hand.

Roboute restrains himself from wiping his palm.

“Uncle,” you intermit before Gallan could say anything else to him, “what brings you here?” 

Gallan glances at Roboute with barely hidden distrust in his eyes and goes up to your ear to whisper: “The election. I need assurance on Pompilius’ vote.” 

You whisper back, “Consider it done.” You’ve taken a more solemn and serious tone he’s come to associate with you working. Gallan continues to prattle names—all names of various centuries, in a hushed tone. None were necessarily someone to take note of but the writing on the wall was clear.

Gallan would return to the consulship after losing out on it to his mother twice.

Roboute’s neither surprised nor shocked. Gallan’s the leader and face of the conservative majority of the senate and Tarasha’s popularity among the aristocracy has slowly declined due to her more direct approach to dealing with corruption.  

Your uncle leaves soon after that but not before putting a stack of parchment and a data slate on the table and kissing you on the forehead. In doing so he’d knocked away the pieces on the board.

‘Rude,’ Roboute thought sourly.

Once he was out of sight you sighed and looked to him. “I’m sorry.” The distress on your face is clear.

“It’s fine—”

“No, no it’s not. It’s my…day off and I promised to spend it with you. Who knows when we’ll be able to have free time together again.”

“We’ll make it work—I’ll make it work,” Roboute finds himself surprised at the promises spilling from his mouth. He wasn’t the type to make or want promises, he preferred the guarantee of schedules and deals but here he was mouthing off pledges like water falling from a waterfall.

And from the look of it, you were just as surprised as him. 

“...You don’t have to do all that...” 

He shakes his head, “I’m only making it even. I know it took you forever to convince your uncle for me to visit.” 

“I–” you hesitate and switch the topic, “I’ll walk you out.”

“No need, I know my way out,” Roboute gestures to the stack of paperwork left behind, “and you should probably get started on those. I know my way out, don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to retort but he shuts it down by pressing his pointer finger against your forehead. “I’ll be fine.”

Glaring and huffing you respond, “Fine.”

And he smiles, says his goodbyes and leaves the property all the while feeling sets of eyes following him every step of the way. 

Robot wasn’t surprised, your uncle was strict about you. 

He’d always been a bit strict.  

When the two of you were younger you wouldn’t be allowed to spend time together alone. A…bondaged person—-the ones that would be sent to fight in the arenas, would always be sent to watch over you, silently looming in the corner their presence near unnoticeable. 

It hadn’t gotten any better after you came of age.

Still, ‘Gallan has his reasons’ he reminds himself over and over.  It does little to silence that creeping feeling he’s come to associate with the man the entire trip home.

As usual, dinner is wordless and in place of chatter is the rhythmic clinks of utensils against fine ceramic plates. Tonight’s meal consisted of an array of dishes that was far too many for two people to eat. A middle-aged woman, a cupbearer stands off to the side watching the two nobles eat while her own stomach grumbles, hunger racking her body. 

She does not sound her pain, and instead, focuses on the young woman sitting next to her master. 

“You know I don’t like you associating with the Guilliman boy.” He voices out. The young woman freezes, sparing the cupbearer a brief glance before looking down at her plate.

“It was just a brief visit we only played a few games.” 

She sounded like a young child caught disobeying her parents. It squeezes at the cup bearer’s heart; she had been a mother once but her child is no longer her’s.

Her master tuts, “That doesn’t matter,” the young woman clenches her fork tighter, “And you know that. That boy is different, dangerous.”

“He’s–”

“An outsider, someone, no, something from beyond the sky. Those fools may call it a son, a boy, a child. Still, it does not erase that something is different from that thing,”  The cupbearer’s master places a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. He continues his tangent, “Sooner or later you will oppose each other and you must stand victorious for me, for our dream so avoid that boy from now on.”

The young woman bites her lip and with a harsh exhale she finally answers, “Yes, Uncle.”

The cupbearer could only feel pity for her.

note: whew trying to make up political stuff is hard. i swear i didnt forget about this fic!! i was mostly stuck on how to write reader's relationship with gallan so i kept restarting in my drafts

[micro-wav]

50/50 chance won! - Party Noob

Genre: fluff

Summary: You're traveling on the elevator when a well-known floor comes up.

CW: none!

[Not a request, I just really wanted to write something cute with Poob, I feel like they deserve more love :) ]

[I wrote this with a platonic relationship in mind, but you could also see this as more than friendship, so it's tagged as x reader as well!]

Excitedly, you walk out of the elevator, the jukebox playing on your left, but your face is turned towards the right where you see none other than your favorite party goer.

The elevator bell sound signaling its arrival to a new floor chimes before the doors open, revealing the subway station which you knew all too well by now.

"Noobie!" You exclaim with excitement before running towards them and throwing your arms around them, giving Poob just enough time to lift the present they were holding up above his head so you could properly hug them. "Y/N! HII!!"

Once inside you press one of the buttons of the elevator, which was redundant since it would just start on it's own anyways and all the buttons were the same, but it was a force of habit from normal elevators so you didn't mind.

After letting them go, you grab one of their hands and walk towards the elevator, Poob letting you basically drag him along, the present now awkwardly tucked under their arm to keep it from falling, but they were already used to this and knew you wouldn't let their hand go anytime soon anyways.

"I wonder where we'll go to next~" You hum as the doors close shortly after and you turn your gaze towards Poob, more importantly the present in her hands, eyeing it curiously. "Whatcha got in there this time?"

Poob grins knowingly, turning away from you just a little as you were still holding her hand. "I dunnooo, wut r u thinking I got in here?" Making you sigh, feigning exasperation as you grab their hand a little tighter and tug him towards you a little to make them look at you once more. "Gimme a hint!"

They laugh, grinning widely as they think about how best to describe it "hmmm, itz fluffy! n' cute!"

You think for a moment, trying to think of something that would fit that description and fit inside the Box "A kitty? No, that'd make noises and the Box wouldn't be this stabile to hold with one hand.. a plushie maybe?" Poobs eyes sparkle at your words and he nods eagerly "Correct!!" He exclaims excitedly, throwing the box in the air which makes it explode, confetti falling slowly as a plushie appears, making you let go of poobs hand to catch it.

As if on queue, the elevator comes to a stop as you stop hugging and the doors open after the familiar ring of the bell, signaling the start of the next floors timer. Eager to explore, you hold onto your new plushie and grab Poobs hand with your other one, happily doing everything with just one hand as long as it means you don’t have to let go just yet.

You realize you weren't actually too far off in your first guess, it turns out to be a plushie of a cat, it's Black beady eyes staring at you, its stitched smile unfaltering as you look at it. You squeal, hugging it tightly before wrapping your hands around Poob once more, squeezing her tightly "thank you, thank you, it's so cute!!" Poob matches your energy perfectly, now able to hug you back since they were no longer carrying anything "WELC!!"

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part V

Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading for me, you're the best bb!! ❤️❤️

Hello everyone!! This chapter is going to be a little more plot/lore heavy. But, we still get some sweet and flirty boys. IV brings Reader dinner and II is becoming more comfortable in his flirting. Thank you so much for reading, if you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!

WARNINGS: None

Part IV - Part VI

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was one of those times where your store was absolutely slammed. "I'll be right with you Jay, just give me one second." You clap the older man on the shoulder as you round the counter.

"No worries darlin', I got all day." He smiles cheerfully at you." You hurriedly set a fresh batch of coffee to brew, quickly cleaning up the station.

"Next batch will be done in about ten minutes guys." You smile as you pass by a tow of your usuals, a group of old timers that would set up shop at the shelf along one of the windows and spend their day drinking cups of coffee and playing scratch tickets.

"Now Miss (Y/N), don't you go running off, I got a vibe to pick with you young lady." You skidded to a halt, turning in your heels to face the myriad of curious stares.

"You better make this quick Randy, I got a line out the door." You huff with a sarcastic smile.

"I just want to know what you're doing hanging around with those cultists." Your eye involuntarily twitched as he spit out the word. "I'd just hate to see you get mixed up in that crowd."

"They're nice boys Randy." You hurry up to the counter as you continue to call over your shoulder. "It might do you some good to actually get to know them before you try to crucify them over nothing.

"Why don't you try inviting them to the Fall Festival?" Jay asks gently.

"Unfortunately I don't think they'd go. I know it's hard to believe but they're just as nervous about you as you are about them." You explain with a huff.

"I think it's worth a shot at least." He leans in a bit to whisper to you. "Now I can't speak for everyone obviously, but I think if the townsfolk actually got to meet them and see that they're not some big ol' scary monster in the woods… well, they might just come around." He offers his advice with a patient smile. "If you're saying they're a good group of guys I trust your judgment. Your word means a lot more to me than some blood thirsty reporter after a story."

"Thanks Jay, I'll ask them. Who knows, maybe they'll show up." He bids you farewell before leaving you to tend to the rest of your sea of customers. After what felt like an eternity your store was finally empty. You groaned, slumping over the counter. The cool linoleum felt nice against your sticky skin. You jolted up at the sound of the bell ringing above the door, eyes flashing over to reveal II and IV looking at you curiously. "Hey guys." You give them a tired smile.

"Everything alright, love? You look exhausted." II approaches the counter, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, just a long day." You explain. You sit down in your chair, resting your elbows on the counter. II copies your motions, his eyes searching yours, his nose just barely out of reach from bumping into you.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You shake your head in response.

"You boys are already too good to me as it is." You giggle as II playfully rolls his eyes. "I'll be alright, just gotta do some quick cleaning before I go upstairs. Then it's a cup of ramen cause I'm too lazy to cook and shitty movie re-runs until I pass out on my couch."

"A cup of ramen isn't a meal, doll." He tuts.

"I know that, doctor." He chuckles at your sarcastic tone. "I'll be alright, one night without a proper dinner isn't going to kill me."

"I wish we could come help more around here, I hate seeing you so tired." IV chimes in, dropping an armful of snacks on the counter.

"I appreciate all your help, but I promise you, I'll be just fine." You respond with a reassuring smile. Neither of them seemed satisfied with your answer but they could tell you weren't in the mood to argue.

II sighs, "just promise me after you finish up here you'll go get some rest."

"You have my word." You chuckle. The two of them finish their shopping, idly chatting with you as you do some cleaning up. "Goodnight guys, get home safely." You wave as they head out.

"I better not come back here and see you exhausted tomorrow." II warns playfully.

"I'll try my best." He winks at you before pushing out the door. IV wishes you goodnight before joining his companion.

You collapsed on your couch with a groan once you finally made it upstairs. Despite how much you were trying to convince yourself you weren't hungry your growling stomach said otherwise. You lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, when suddenly the familiar rumble of a pick up truck pulls into the lot. You stood, walking over to the window and pushing the curtain aside. You saw IV fumbling with something in his passenger seat before kicking the door open. You met him at the back door, he froze when he saw you standing at the top of the landing with a smirk spread across your features. "I, uh, I brought some food." He offers bashfully.

"Come on up IV." You chuckle before heading back inside. IV steps into your apartment, eyeing you curiously.

"I'm sorry I showed up without an invitation." He apologizes. You smile, taking a couple steps closer to him.

"You're welcome here anytime." He breathes out a laugh as his eyes dart to the floor. You offer to take the food for him, setting up a spot for the both of you on your couch. "I am curious, how did you manage to get fast food without raising any suspicion?" You ask as you pop a fry in your mouth. IV chuckles in response, adjusting to sit more comfortably.

"It's a funny story actually, I pulled up at the drive through and the kid working there told me he liked my costume." You laugh.

"Really?" He nods. The thought of the Fall Festival popped into your mind; how you would love to bring the four of them because you know they would have a great time, how it would give them a chance to see the town for what it really was, and of course your little crush on the charming masked men didn't help either. "IV, do you think Vessel plans on ever going into town? You know, aside from you guys making supply runs under the cover of darkness." You joke.

"If I'm being completely honest, I don't know." He pulls his mask away from his face to take a sip of his drink. "I'm the newest of our little group so I can't give you the whole story, but from what I understand up until we reached here things weren't too great. There's a lot of people out there who want to get rid of us before they even have a chance to get to know us. We've been run out of town after town, sometimes through more… humane means… other times not so much. But, we have something good here, with the camp in the woods, with you." He pauses for a moment to smile at you. "That's something I want to try and hold onto for as long as I can."

You study him for a moment, "what if I tried to help?" You offer. "I could be the middleman for you. People in town know me, I grew up here, that has to mean something. I just… I don't want you to have to constantly be worried about someone being out to get you. I know that if they met you, if they got to know the people I know you are, they wouldn't be afraid anymore."

"I'm sure Vessel would be interested in hearing you out. Who knows, maybe you'll actually convince him." He chuckles. "Between you and me, if you bat those pretty little eyes at him, I'm sure you could convince him to do just about anything." He jokes as he shoots you a wink.

"I bet that line works on all the girls, huh?" You giggle, trying to shake off the heat that had settled in your cheeks.

"As long as it works on you I'm set." You playfully smack his arm. He nestles back into the couch cushions, letting out a soft groan as he stretches an arm over the back, the back of your neck buzzing as you feel his warmth seep into your skin.

"You're all a bunch of flirts." You smile at him.

"A bunch of flirts?" You roll your eyes at his mock annoyance. "It's not my fault that you're so captivatingly beautiful." You noticed that growing familiarity in your chest. The steady thrum of your heartbeat as you tried to hide your flustered state. IV leans in closer to you, his side pressed flush against your body. "Once I met you I understood what they were all fussing over." He chuckles before muttering, "the perfect being brought to us by Sleep." You turn to look at him, his hazy blue eyes coaxing you in deeper with every passing second.

"Who's… who's Sleep?" You whisper. IV tilts his head, a curious expression matching yours. The pieces must have clicked together because he returned to his usual smiling self a moment later.

"You'll find out soon, Vessel's probably waiting for the right time to explain." You accepted his explanation without a fuss. You trusted that if it was something you needed to know they would tell you. He glanced up at the clock, "I'm sorry to cut things short, love, but I should head back." You nod, standing and walking him over to the door.

"Thank you for bringing some food." You smile.

"Anytime." He responds with a wink. "Get some rest, alright? II will throw a fit." You both shared a laugh before IV reached out and pulled you into his arms. You froze at first, not fully comprehending that he had wrapped you in a hug. But, the moment realization set in your arms slipped around his torso. Neither of you were in a rush to let go, the two of you standing in a comfortable silence as IV held you close, gently swaying you from side to side.

"Goodnight, doll." His hand lingers in your hip, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before slipping out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @themultiverseofmars @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @bookishpenguino @m0cha-bunny @coreofpleasure @madsthenightowl @dangerkitten1705 @rainy-darling @shad0wcast @amara-among-the-stars @venuswinnyix @dontpercieve-me-pls @ripleyswife @thepityscene @lipstick-and-lycanthropes @vmpirekiss @savaneafricaine @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!!)

[yunwangja]

faultline | 2nd shift

masterlist | next shift

“you’re late.”

you say as suga bursts into the convenience store, still panting a little like he ran the whole way. he’s got his big bag on his back - probably the same one he brought on his trip just yesterday - and his hair’s a bit messy, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it on the way.

“i’m not late, you’re just early,” he jokes with a grin, slipping behind the counter. he disappears into the staff room, and you catch glimpses of him rushing back and forth, each time with something different in his hands. finally, he returns fully changed into his uniform, though his collar is a little crooked from his hurry.

“your shift is usually at 9 p.m. it’s 9:09. you left the store unattended for nine minutes,” you tease, pointing at the clock on the wall with a smug look. the previous part-timer had already left without a second thought, familiar enough with your visits to entrust you with “keeping an eye on things” until suga arrived.

“they don’t care about that,” he shrugs, rifling through the notes his coworker left for him. “i do good work when i’m here anyway.”

he gives you a light smirk as he starts his usual routine, checking over the counter before walking down each aisle to tidy up. he pauses at the frozen foods section, inspecting a bag of something you can’t see from where you’re sitting.

“since when have you been here?” he asks, not looking up.

you stretch your arms over the small table where you’re sitting, leaning back with a shrug. “don’t know. 6, 7? i just came over after i got out of campus.”

he glances over his shoulder at you, a little smirk creeping onto his face as he puts the bag back in place. “aww, you missed me?”

you roll your eyes, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “don’t flatter yourself, i just had nothing better to do.”

he laughs at your response and continues to go through the rest of the store. knowing that tsumu teased you about this pisses you off even more.

a customer walks in just then, the chime ringing through the store. suga heads back to the counter to help them, and while he works, you ask him bits and pieces about his trip. he’s telling you a story about something funny his friends did when he suddenly remembers.

“oh! the photos!” he exclaims once the customer leaves, practically jogging back to the staff room. he comes out holding his camera, his expression eager as he flips through the images, already smiling.

“here, look at this,” he says, turning the camera to show you the pictures he’d taken. “the place was amazing.”

you lean in, and you’d hate to deny it - but the photos are actually stunning. mountain views, lush forests, and early morning skies. you stick out your bottom lip and raising your eyebrows in approval.

“yeah, it is. that’s cool,” you say casually, nodding. you watch as he flips through more, showing pictures of his friends, then some of himself with a grin so big it makes you chuckle a little. it’s clear he enjoyed himself.

“looks like you had fun,” you say, tilting your head as you study the camera screen.

“a lot,” he answers, and his grin gets wider. “i kinda wish i didn’t have to come back.”

“then you shouldn’t have,” you reply with a short laugh, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

he laughs as well, just as another customer enters, the bell chiming again. he leaves the camera with you and heads back to the counter, glancing over his shoulder as he jokes, “if only i were rich, yn.”

you smile at his comment, watching him for a second before turning back to his camera. you continue flipping through the photos while he handles the customer. eventually, you get through all the shots from his trip and find yourself in his other albums.

the first few shots are of familiar faces: shoyo and tobio during what looks like a hangout session. then, you see photos taken here, in the convenience store. you realize it’s from a day when he had his camera for fun and had snapped some shots of you.

but what surprises you is the number of pictures he took, especially the candid ones. there are moments of you looking away, half-laughing or adjusting your jacket.

your curiosity piqued, you scroll further back. it was photos at a park. you explore more, and it was at a museum. you dig more, and it was pictures of the moon, perfectly framed against the night sky. and then, it was you again.

you were standing under a streetlight, head tilted back as you look at the stars. the memory hits you - he must’ve taken these quietly, when you didn’t notice. there’s one of you laughing, another rolling your eyes, and a few where you’re just gazing up, caught in your own world.

you keep scrolling, and you look through more, and you see kiyoko and bokuto.

you go through more, and it’s shoyo. next, it was you again. when you guys were near your campus. you saw your friends, but almost always, there’s you again, woven in-between these other familiar faces.

“suga,” you call, an amused smirk creeping onto your lips. “you take a lot of pictures of me.”

he’s finishing up with the customer, a faint laugh escaping him as he glances over.

“my friends say that, too,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head a little. “but i can’t help it.” he glances at you, “you’re a good subject.”

“why, do you like me or something?” you tease, eyebrows raised as you look up from the camera with a smirk.

suga doesn’t respond, and when you notice, you look back at him, making sure he heard you. his friendly smile froze and his eyes widened a little.

woah. that was not the reaction you wanted.

you stare at each other for a good few seconds, and you wait for him to laugh. or maybe, he says you’re being weird and you can be the one to laugh it off.

but instead, he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t joke. after a long pause, he shrugs and looks away, “well… yeah.”

he looks back up at you, answering with a quiet honesty.

“does that make it less creepy?”

notes

dundundun !!!! lol well we're just in the beginning >:)

daichi was seeing someone !! a foreigner OOOOH (that was why he called suga)

he's also suga's most trusted friend in regards to his struggles at home. idr if ive mentioned this in the intros but his friends are well-aware of his situation (even yn) but he just doesnt talk a lot about it

kiyoko does watch movies but not an enthusiast, u get it? so yeah she's always just stays quiet esp if its the topic

bo loves criossants i dont knowww my mind just said so

kags loves to piss tsumu off. idk it's a hobby of his

also shoyo has a habit of just like doomscrolling through twitter and replying to almost every tweet he sees

there were people recruiting members to the dance club and akaashi's classmates were like "omg you should join everybody would be all over you"

he says he has bad footwork, but if u actually see him dance he's not that bad

and yes suga's shift is from 9pm-5am. yn only stays til like 1 or 2am tho

you will be updated of tsumu's date in the next shift so stay tuned

taglist: @lvtilzs @uraviriot @adorawritesalot @nachotrash @staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @rowensboat

[witchpassing]

a request written for a kind patron, under the prompt "catgirl seeks help in the practice of Stillness, as she wants to part time as a maneki-neko".

The shop bell jingles as Jun shoulders in, shaking snow from her cloak, huffing against the cold. “Welcome to the Golden Coil Medicine Shop, young miss! How may this one serve - oh, it’s you. Hi, Jun.” The doll running the counter slides out of its ramrod posture with an inelegant little yawn. 

Jun snorts, hooking her hat onto the stand. “Aw, Ginseng, you’re not going to take my coat? I’m nearly a fully-certified witch now, y’know. You should keep it up with the young miss stuff, get yourself into the habit.” 

Ginseng sticks out a teal-blue tongue in answer. “The usual, it assumes,” it says, turning to the dark wall of lacquered drawers behind the counter, each one’s contents labelled in print-perfect doll handwriting. 

“The usual.” While Ginseng goes through the monthly routine, stepladder and scales and brown paper bag with label and seal, Jun��s eye wanders about the shop. Ginseng is always changing something or other about the decor in here - pre-Becoming, it was probably an interior designer or something - but the new addition this time is… really something. A poured-gold statue of a beckoning cat, the full shape and scale of a felinid woman kneeling upon a cushioned pedestal. Its upraised paw swings almost hypnotically, as if to the beat of an unheard metronome. 

A folded paper bag is pushed across the counter by finely jointed fingertips. “Crushed extract-of-venus, five grams. Enriched black cohosh, ten grams. Thank you for your custom, young miss.” Ginseng curtseys just slightly too deep to be sincere, the sarcasm of gesture that dolls do best, and Jun snorts. 

“See, now you’re getting it.” She folds the package into the witch-pocket beneath her coat, but she just - can’t take her eyes off that cat statue. “Hey, uh - what’s with the maneki-neko? It’s a bit, I don’t know…” 

“Striking?” Ginseng says, hopefully. 

“... Gaudy?” 

“Hey!” says the statue, and Jun jumps about a foot in the air. “Rude!” Its tail switches about the base of its pedestal, aggrieved. In motion, the glinting gold of its skin reveals itself to be… a considerable amount of fur-safe paint?

“Oh, what the fffff –” a witch must never swear, “- Cleo?” 

“Yes! Cleo!” says Cleo. “Aw, fuck, Jun, you really think I look gaudy?” 

“Uh - no, no, you look - gold’s a good colour on you. What’s going on?” 

“Oh, you two know each other?” Ginseng leans its elbows on the counter. “How droll. Jun, she’s the new part-timer. It’s really nothing to get worked up about.”

“Uh... huh. Cleo, I know you’re not getting the kind of money out of Ginseng that makes sitting on a pedestal all day worth it. What are you actually in this for?” A roll of glass eyes, as if Jun, having helped out here once or twice a week back before her workload got too heavy to manage, isn’t entirely qualified to opine on how Ginseng pays its shop’s part-timers.

“Well, y’see. I’m lucky now,” Cleo says, as if that explains it completely. Jun waits for some sort of elaboration on the thought, but she just takes advantage of the lapse in kayfabe to start preening her fur. 

"The customers have been petting her," Ginseng supplies. 

"Yeah! That too!” Cleo chirps.” C'mon, c'mon, you know you wannaaa-" 

As she tilts forward on her knees, head seeking Jun’s touch, the silver-chased bell hung upon her neck ribbon stirs into a chime; a high, pure tone that is somehow, for the two seconds for which it hangs in the air, the most important thing in the shop. When the sound fades, Cleo has rocked back into her luck-beckoning pose, swishing tail and twitching ears statue-steady, her eyes cloudy with the kind of deep, thought-ending calm that freewilled creatures do not attain without magical intervention.  

"I thought that bell looked familiar," Jun says. 

"Then - then you know as well as this one does that it's perfectly harmless!" Ginseng says, detecting the baleful note of consequences in the junior witch’s voice.

"You have attached a category-four cursed object to our mutual friend - which I loaned you, from my mistress’ collection - so that she can part-time at your master’s shop as a good luck charm." 

“She was so eager to start! And, and she’s been a huge hit with the customers, and you can’t expect a cat to master Stillness on her own overnight-”

“I’m telling your Miss.” 

“Noooo, Juuun.” 

“I am. You’re not wheedling me out of this, you wretch.” 

“C’mooonnn, it’s fine, she likes it…”

“I should kick your ass myself! Another shift’s worth of this and she’ll Become right here in the middle of the shop, and then what are you going to do, huh, tell your Lady she just walked in and did that–"

[harleehazbinfics]

Learn more about you Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

Word Count: 512 A/N: Hello, lovies! Been so long since I updated. But hey! I came back to also say I graduated woohoo! Nothing permanent yet, I don't want to get your hopes up with daily updates like I used to since I'll be looking for a job now, omg. But, I'd love to hear requests from you. I honestly don't know what more I should add to Cannibal Chef!Reader. I'm out of creativity lmao. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR HOLDING OUT THIS LONG! MWAH!

"Good morning, Miss Rosie!~"

"Y/n! Sweetheart! Here to take your order?"

"Yup!"

"Here ya go. Looks like a big order. Did something happen?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. So, Sir Alastor was in a good mood, and we went to eat at a restaurant in the circle, but the food was so inedible that Sir Alastor had to spit it out in public. Something, I've never seen him do honestly. Then after we bumped into the Vees and got into a bit of a scuffle with them. After making it back to the hotel, Sir got splashed with alcohol right in the face," you mutter, awkwardly laughing.

"Well, that's one hard day he had there. You gonna make him something then?" she asks flashing you her sharp teeth.

"Mhm! I was thinking of making hotpot or a casserole. He must be famished after such a tiring day," you smile.

You then hear the bell tower chiming then whipping your head to see the time.

"Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around Miss Rosie!" you called before leaping from building to building.

"Take care, dear!"

You arrive at Alastor's room where you hear the bathroom door close and hear the rushing water after. You nodded to yourself as you walked to the kitchen he conjured just for you and tied your hair back to prep your meal.

After leaving it on the stove with a timer on. You strolled back into the living room and picked up Alastor's drenched clothes into the laundry chute for you to deal later. Of course, not before you took his handkerchief and took a whiff of it. Eyes drawing into hearts that in delight.

Amidst your happiness, the handkerchief got tugged away and thrown into the chute along with the rest of them. Alastor stands behind you, still dripping with water from the bath. Chest bare-naked and red shorts around his waist, and his towel on top of his head as his hair stuck on his forehead.

"Come on now, if you wanted one you could have just asked, sweetheart," he says with a smirk before pinching your pouting face.

He turns away from you and sinks into his favorite chair with a drawled sigh. You compose yourself and slowly walked beside him after.

You pursed your lips and pouted, "You just don't understand the smell fresh from the source, Sir Alastor."

"Oh, believe me. I know the feeling," he chuckles, waving his hand as shadows appear under you and lifted you onto his lap. He embraces you and sniffs from your collar, as you stared at him with shaky heart filled eyes as he stares back with his half-lidded ones.

"I-I never knew you were this cheeky, Sir," you stutter under your breath nervously. Your hands on his chest while he purrs under you snuzzling closer and closer.

"There are many things you don't know yet," he mutters as he grazes your neck with his teeth then his eyes flicker from your neck to your eyes and asks, "Would you like to learn?"

"I'd love to." <3

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[caffinatedkrasova]

A Morning Cup of Coffee

You’ve never been a morning person, but now, with the farm, you’ve been forced to, but Harvey always makes those mornings more manageable. With his warm smile and hot coffee ready for you as soon as you're prepared to grace him with your presence in the clinic, you’ve decided to give him a little extra thanks for such special mornings.

The alarm on your bedside table rang out through your room, giving you a headache as soon as your head lifted off its pillow. You grumble out a curse as you turn the damned thing off. You realize that you’re already late to feed your chickens and rush out of bed, still in your pajamas, to your coop to fill their feeder. Your most enormous brood, Henretta, was the most displeased at your tardiness, giving you a slight peck to the hand as you collected the eggs for the day.

With an annoyed expression, you continued to finish up the necessary farm work for the morning, deciding that today was just one of those days where you’d be back in bed watching Netflix by 4 pm. But before you gave up on your morning, you decided to visit your lovely doctor. Who lifted your spirits with his delectable coffee creamer he kept just for you. You couldn’t understand his preference for black coffee but couldn’t argue if he kept your favorite in his fridge.

After setting the timers for your Mayo machines, you decide it might be better to be dressed when you go into town. You quickly change into something more presentable than your Junimo pajama set. While you’re sure Harvey would have no complaints about your attire even if you had worn a trashcan lid for a hat, you don’t want Jodi or Caroline spreading rumors about your disheveled state. You have already learned your lesson about those two.

As you head out the door in what you had reasoned to be an okay outfit, you chuckled slightly at the memory of Jodi and Caroline being so worried about you when you had gone to Pierre’s in your sweatpants and hoodie. They had thought you had gotten some illness and nearly dragged you to the clinic when you assured them you were okay and didn’t feel like getting into your overalls that morning to do your farm work. With all the commotion outside the clinic, Harvey had overheard and decided to see what was happening. When he heard what the discourse was about from Jodi and Caroline, he sided with them and demanded to take your temperature. When he had gotten you back to the clinic without them, he told you not to worry about them and offered to make you a coffee upstairs since you looked tired. That’s when you found out he liked his coffee plain black, and you couldn’t be more thankful for such noisy neighbors.

You finally reach the clinic doors. You check your watch, and it says 10:30 am. Harvey should be in the front clinic office now; he probably saw you coming from the windows. He had perhaps made the coffee for you by now, the unique mug he had bought for you when you spotted it on a trip to Zuzu City, the one only you could use. He had probably already added the exact amount of creamer and sugar you love every time. He’ll do this for you every time, like clockwork. Knowing your mornings are never complete until you’re drinking your coffee with him, talking about how horrible it is to wake up early and walk so far to get here.

A little bell chimes above you as you walk through the doors. The bright fluorescent lighting of the clinic waiting room does nothing to help your headache from waking up. The only comfort you seem to receive in your seconds of peril while your eyes adjust is your dear doctor's deep, joyous chuckle.

“You will never get used to those lights, will you?” He continues to laugh while you rub your eyes while they sting. You find it in yourself to laugh with him. I mean, with a laugh like that, how could you not?

“No, your lights are specifically designed to blast anyone walking through this door. Is it a visitor deterrent?” Your eyes finally acclimate to the light's brightness, and you can look at your doctor well. His dark brown curls frame his cute face, oversized glasses, how they sit perfectly on the slope of his nose, and the tint on his cheeks when he makes direct eye contact with you. And you notice your mug waiting on the counter with small amounts of steam coming from the top.

“No, they’re not visitor deterrents, but they’re designed to let you see better, especially for eye exams. But, enough of the doctor talk; you want your coffee?” He slides the mug in your direction, and you take it happily, your hands brushing his slightly as you take it. You hear him take a breath as he quickly grabs his coffee. You can clearly see the blush creeping above his collared shirt in this light.

“You know, Harv, you didn’t have to memorize my favorite coffee,” You give him a look while you sip your coffee before you continue, “But you did, and for that, I thank you deeply; I think you’re slowly making me a morning person.”

“It’s only coffee, Y/n. I like these mornings with you, so if that means keeping a disgustingly high-calorie creamer in my fridge, so be it.” He pauses to continue sipping his black coffee. Besides, what else would I do in the mornings, getting work done?” You go to slap his arm as he continues to laugh at his jokes. But he knows he is right. These mornings together had become a sort of ritual. You’d pray to Yoba for them to never stop, to only blossom into something you could keep forever as the two of you continue drinking your coffee and chatting about things that never mattered. You’d also pray that he had done the same.

“It’s not just the coffee; you know it, Harv.”

“I know”

“It never was, was it?” He doesn’t look at you; he stares into the mug you had bought for him in that run-down market you two had gone to after going to the aerospace museum in Zuzu for his birthday. He told you that you didn’t need to spend more money on him, that the evening alone was enough, but you insisted that you both needed unique mugs.

“No, it was for you.” When he finally looks back at you, he looks like a complete blushing mess. His expression could only be described as adoring. The intensity behind his eyes as the love he felt for you stared you down sent a chill down your spine. “I- I wanted to do this right, bouquet and all, b-but now it seems better, Y/n I love you. I love making your coffee in the mornings and that you come in daily to keep me company. I love how your h/c glows in the light, and you can never seem to wake up on time. Could you find it in yourself to love an old doctor like me? Because simply knowing you isn’t enough; I want to know you first thing in the morning and before bed. If you keep your socks on or off, how to wake you gently and keep you happy.”

“Harvey, I want all of that; I want you.” You round the counter quickly and rush to his arms. He holds you gently at first, then his hands from your back to your hair and waist. He keeps you close as his head dips into your neck, taking a deep breath. If this is how they continue, you have become a morning person.

He releases you from the crushing hug, but not before slowly planting his lips onto yours. The feeling of soft skin in contrast to his bristling mustache almost made you giggle from the tickling feeling, but as you both continued to deepen the kiss, his hand on your waist began to travel down your lower back, grabbing a handful of your ass. As you pulled back to gasp, Harvey aimed at your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You continued to gasp and whimper at the contact, writhing from the attention.

“You’re so wound up, I think I should prescribe you a massage. I can do it personally if you’d like?” You nod furiously, your mouth suddenly becoming dry as you try to think of words you could helplessly use to plead for Harvey. He turns you towards the clinic hallway, ushering you into his office. He turns you around again, leading you now backward, pushing you by your hip towards the exam table. Once flush against the table, he lifts you to sit on top of the exam bed. He quickly kisses you before gently pulling apart and giving you space; you give him a confused look before he continues, “I did say this was a massage, did I not?” You provide a disappointed look after he continues, “Do be a good patient by removing your clothing, please. I cannot get a good look at the,“ he pauses to clear his throat, “muscles in need of care, with them on.”

You lift your shirt above your arms, exposing your f/c bra to the cold clinic air. You can feel goosebumps rising as Harvey looks over your exposed skin. He stares in absolute awe before quickly shaking himself out of whatever thought that held him captive. Kissing you deeply, letting his hands roam your skin, the smooth, supple skin that his touch had warmed. You leaned into him, hoping that he would continue to hold you. He would never stop now that you had let him; he would find any opportunity to do so in the future.

He unclasped the backing of your lacy bra, sliding the garment off of your arms down onto the clinic floor. As your nipples rise to the temperature of the chilly clinic, Harvey wastes no time to take one into his mouth and cover the other in his large hand. Swirling his tongue around your areola, you jerk into his touch, quickly becoming aroused by his skilled tongue. You lean into his touch, needing one hand to keep you stable on the exam bed, and you use the other to tangle itself in his curly hair. You give a slight tug when he gives your nipple a small bite. He moans in response and moves to your other tit, wanting to give them both equal attention.

However, long after Harvey felt like adequate attention to your breast was up, he gently pushed you down on the exam bed. Once you had laid down comfortably on the table, Harvey continued his assault of hot kisses along your body. Starting from your breast, leading down your ribs and stomach, and heading towards the hemline of your pants. He looked up for your permission before continuing to pull your pants down your legs while continuing his kisses along your thighs and calves. When he finally gets your pants off, he continues his gentle kisses while his hands start to kneed at the plush parts of your thighs. He feels as if his heart is beating a hundred miles an hour with how you react to his touch. He must be ascending to Yoba himself from the pure sight of heaven in front of him.

You feel your skin radiating heat from the way his hands had spread out, one hand cupping your tits and gently tugging on your nipples occasionally. And the other hand had gently cupped the mound of flesh covering your most sensitive parts. He had wanted to continue massaging your tender and sore legs, but he could sense your growing tension and need for release.

He released his hold on your tits and thighs, moving his hands back to your waist as he looked for your permission once more as he continued to remove your underwear, tossing it to join its matching set on the floor of the clinic. Once you were undressed entirely on the exam table, Harvey grabbed a chair and brought it to the end of the table. Taking a seat in the chair, then pulling you by your ankles to the edge of the bed so that your ass was just barely in the air.

With little warning, Harvey dives into your pussy like a starved man, licking long flat stripes onto your clit. You gasp and moan, your hands diving into his hair, holding him in his place. A string of pleas and whimpers leave your mouth, unheard by your ears, as the pleasure that racks your body in waves comes over you. Harvey wraps his arms underneath your legs, trying to gain some leverage with how you're writhing beneath him. As he continues his ministrations, he slowly inserts a finger into your tight hole. You clench around the sudden intrusion, trying to relax into his touch, but each movement causes you to jump and shudder.

After you adjust to the first finger, Harvey inserts another, quickly making work of stretching your poor tight little pussy. He would almost feel pity for how tight you think; it must have been a while since someone has adequately cared for you, and he will happily take the job with care. With another finger inserted, you release a hearty moan while your back arches off of the exam bed. Your hand that was buried in his hair clenches and pulls harder than you intended, and Harvey fucking loves it. The primal groan that releases from his throat sends chills down your spine and even more juices to spill from your cunt.

You can hardly handle any more teasing before you release, and you desperately need to cum on his cock and not around his digits. While it’s appealing, you’d instead finish together the first time. So you tug on Harvey’s hair, signaling for him to pull away from your delicious cunt, and he does so begrudgingly. He truly thinks that if he could spend the rest of his life between your legs, he would.

As Harvey stands from his chair, you can see the bulge in his pants that has grown considerably since the start of the ‘massage.’ He quickly undoes his belt with the speed of a man who desperately needs to get laid and frees his weeping cock from the confines of his pants and boxer briefs. He pumps himself a few times, enjoying the look on your face when he has beaten whatever estimate your imagination had given him.

He gently places his hands underneath the back of your knees, pushing them towards your chest while he slowly grinds his hips against yours, slightly sputtering from the contact. His face was completely red from the acts he was committing. He had always been a morning person, but this morning had put every other to shame. The view of your tits being pushed up by the folding of your legs and how wet your cunt made his cock feel was almost sinful.

He slowly pushed his dick into your wet cunt, savoring the way your tight hole had clenched around him the moment he entered. He wanted to rut into you the moment his cock had touched your soaked entrance, but he had to show restraint for your poor little pussy, or he would hurt you, and that was the last thing he wanted. He leaned down to your ear, his breath hitting the shell of your ear and making you shiver. “You’ve got to relax, dear. If you’re too tight, I won’t be able to fuck you like you want.”

You squirm and moan on his dick, wanting to take more of him desperately. You wrap your hands around his arms, pleading with your body for him to continue, your brain too far gone to help you make your case. Harvey, deciding to take pity on your whining state, pushes his cock further into you. His hands gripping your leg and the back of your head, leaning into your neck as he ruts slowly into your pussy. As you slowly begin to loosen around him, he continues his agonizingly slow pace as your pussy drips its juices onto the tiled floor of the clinic.

Harvey readjusts himself, leaning back up to take a good look at you, how your breasts bounce from your hips slapping together, how the sound travels around his office, and wildly how your face contorts when he finds that spot that makes you see stars. Once he finds the place once more, he changes his rhythm to ruthlessly pound into your g-spot as he gently applies pressure to your lower stomach and starts rubbing small circles into your clit with his other hand.

Your back arches off of the exam bed as you moan Harvey’s name for what could have been the hundredth time; you couldn’t have kept track if you had tried. From the angle he was pounding into you, you doubted that you could do anything but moan and wail as you continued to take the brutal thrusting from Harvey. This was far from the gentle touches and kisses that Harvey had given you earlier; this was pure animalistic Harvey. The Harvey that needed to be buried inside of your tight walls while he spilled his seed into you, the Harvey that needed you to cum on his cock over and over again before he was satiated.

Harvey had bucked his hips into yours, his rhythm slowly slowing to bucking and whimpers as he continued to brush small circles into your clit. You could feel the final wave of your orgasm coming, but before you could try to warm Harvey, you feel a coil within you snap, and a warm feeling flood your insides as a buzzing fills your head. You can feel Harvey double over, his head falling onto your chest as he gathers his breath. When he slowly pulls out of you, you can feel the cum slowly pooling out of you as Harvey sucks in a breath watching the pornographic scene in front of him.

“Yoba, I should have asked about a condom. I am so sorry-“ Before Harvey can continue his apologetic rant, you interrupt him with a deep kiss. Holding onto his shoulders, pulling him in deeper, wanting to pinch yourself and hoping to Yoba it wasn’t a dream. Thanking Yoba again that it wasn’t, you pull back from Harvey and decide you are a morning person.

Thank you for reading this coffee and joint-fueled smut; if you enjoyed please let me know because writer's block is a bitch, and I am struggling bussing this.

[jrstales]

Stephen heads to the gym

All characters 18+

---Stephens pov----

After the shower Ricky dressed and headed home. He worked some shifts at one of the coffee shops by the beach and had some the next few evenings and wanted to get his  stuff ready for it.

I changed, heading to the gym to do some back and biceps. It was empty when I got there, neon motivational quotes stamped onto the wall. I stood for a few minutes, checking myself out in the mirror beside a luminous green, 'Never give up!'.

I felt cute. I had put on a powder blue gym tee, a black pair of shorts. I was starting to like the way I looked, appreciating the small amount of muscle growing on my arms. My legs had started to gain definition, I was starting to admire my ass -

'Looking good man,' called out a voice from the entrance. I looked around and it was the same guys who had rescued me from the bench my last visit.

I felt the blood rush to my face , as I looked down at the ground, giving them a thumbs up, 'Cheers' I shouted back, my voice not quite as solid as I would have liked. 'Fuck. Why did the hot guys at the gym have to see that. Probably laughing at me flexing.

'Give us a shout if you need a spot on anything! Have a great workout!' the shorter of the two called out.

The paranoid part of me wondered if they were laughing at me. 'No,' I reassured myself, ' they don't know you, so why would they. They're just being nice. Don't get in your head' I squeezed my fists and took a calming breath before moving over to the low row, a little unnerved it was in front of the squat rack where these two guys were getting warmed up.

I steeled myself, and did my warm up set, focusing on contracting my scapula like Jake had taught me. Making the motion good and controlled. Taking my break after the first set I looked at them.

The pair of them were lean, but well defined muscles were obvious even in their loose tops. They couldn't be older than 25 I thought. The taller had one side of his hair cut short, the longish almost viking blonde hair swept to the side and styled, aN almost rugged face, faint gold stubble highlighting the shapely jaw.

His friend though had much neater brown hair, a slight fringe  flicked to the left. His face was slightly rounder, big eyed, slight button nose. Cute.

The taller one stepped behind his friend as he took the weight and started squatting. I had a moment of jealousy as I saw him warm up with my finishing weight.

As they both bent down, the taller almost spooning his friend, their arms were on obvious display. Both of them had quite intricate sleeve tattoos. The smaller had what looked like a flock of birds going up his arm, black and white, with beautiful shade work making each one stand out. One small bright red one flew in the middle of the flock seeming to weave between the birds. The larger was some kind of sea scene, with large tentacles grabbing onto what seemed a boat, bright and filled with colour.

They re-racked and switched places. I returned to my workout. Tired and sore, I headed to the cardio area. I took off my shoes and began to do some kicks on the bag, working on my turning and half turning kicks. It wasn't long before the other pair popped in.

'You were looking strong today,' he said,his voice deep, almost gravely. 'You had good form, good range of motion'. He and his friend took off his own shoes and they put on a pair of straps.

'Thanks,' I said shyly, ' I think you were warming up with my finishing weight'.

The younger one laughed, his voice a little higher and full of warmth 'I wouldn't compare yourself. We've been doing this for a bit longer. And Peter is a bit of a fitness freak - pushes me hard'

He stood by the bag as Peter began to start a timer on his phone, 'You never complain Micky' he muttered, signalling for him to start. Micky's foot slammed into the bag at full force, loud echoes filling the small room. I took this as a good time to continue, adding the sound of my own kicks to the racket.

A small bell chimed, and Micky stopped, sweat staring to break on his temple. I paused at the same time as Peter took Micky's space, kicking what seemed even harder, but not quite at the same speedy pace.

Micky jogged over to me, panting. 'Hi,' he raised a hand, panting, 'I'm Micky. I've seen you here a few times'

' Stephen' I gasped, raising my own.

'Hi. Sorry, tell me to fuck off, but thought you might like some advice. Sorry I run a taekwondo club.' he said half smiling, half apologetically. 'Try putting your knee across the bag when you kick. ' He raised his knee, chambering it and flicking his foot out. 'You're stopping here, at the edge of the bag, so I makes a loud noise, but it's really just a slap.

He moved his knee a few inches to his left.  'If you try from this position, you'll actually kick into the bag, not slap the surface' demonstrating a second kick that didn't make quite so much noise that time, but seemed more solid. He waved again, ' Sorry again for interrupting, hope it was okay.' as he slunk back to his own bag as the timer went off again, jumping into another flurry of kicks.

Nodding I decided to try it. I paused and steeled myself, pushing with all my night, twisting my hips, bringing my knee against the target and extending -

My foot slapped against the target and I bounced off, leaving me sprawled on the floor. Peter gave me a hand up, 'Dont worry, ' he reassured me, ' it takes practice.' he chuckled. 'That's happened to me a few times as well - you're okay yeah?'

I nodded, getting back up and trying again, bracing my core a bit more, and getting some more moderate success. 'Thats more like it,' Mickey laughed as he spun into a back kick on the bag.

I enjoyed the rest of my time there, Peter and Micky giving me a few more tips. Eventually though I waved them off. 'We're here most afternoons' Micky shouted after me, drenched in sweat and smiling 'feel free to join us if you see us'

I went into the changing room, grabbing some paper towels to wipe the sweat on my eyes, and spent ten minutes just catching my breath. As I came out I saw that Peter had taken his top off, wiping his brow from the sweat. The man was ripped, his chest covered in dark hair, sweat dripping down him. Micky finished his set  and walked over to him, placing his hands on his chest.

Micky whispered something to Peter, which he grinned at. Micky kissed him, deeply, his hands rubbing over his chest. Peter broke away, grinning. He looked around and grabbed Micky's hand, walking through the gym towards me.

I panicked, I didn't want them to think I was watching. I mean I was, but I didn't want them to know.

I ducked into the changing room jogging to one of the toilets and closing the door over. I peeked through the gap. The two of them burst in, Peter kicked off his shorts  and threw it in a pile on the bench. His dick was huge, fully erect, it must have been like 8 inches. He began kissing Mickey's neck

'Wait,' Mickey paused, 'what if someone's here?'

'Theres no one here' Peter said, still nibbling Mickey's neck, 'Now get naked'

Mickey kicked off his own shorts and shirt, revealing his own toned figure. He ran to the shower, almost slipping on the wet tiles. 'Oh shit,' he laughed, 'Peter get the lube'

Peter reached into their bag and grabbed a bottle following him in, the two of them laughed as the curtain closed. After a few minutes laughter turned to moans.

I looked down, to see there was a wet patch bit on my boxers, but on my shorts. I felt dirty, this was their time, I shouldn't be listening.

That didn't stop me moving closer, listening.  I pulled my dick out, behind the partition, listening to the moans behind the curtain.

Faint groans, 'Peter, fuck. Just like that. Your dicks hitting just right. Don't stop.'

A sound of bare skin being smacked filled the room, as the groans got louder. I was jerking along to this, as fast as I could. The image of the two of them together in the shower, Peter holding Mickey down and fucking him. I covered my own mouth as I started groaning, spewing into my own hand.

I took a moment to pull myself together realising I hadn't caught it all in my hand, and had stained the front of my shorts. I grabbed some toilet paper and crept out, leaving them to finish.

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

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[lakelewisia]

Easily distracted, she learned to set alarms and timers for just about everything in her daily life, so it didn’t strike her as odd when something in her bedroom started chiming. That it proved to be coming from the pocket of her winter coat, so recently put away for the year, stirred her curiosity, however. She looked inside the pocket, and found herself transported to a snowy landscape under a woolen sky, in which ominous bells were tolling out warnings of some great task forgotten.

[saki3939]

Kyokao Coffee Shop AU

The bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of another customer. Kaoru Hitachiin, currently sporting a sensible apron over his casual clothes, looked up from wiping down the espresso machine. His twin, Hikaru, was (thankfully) on dish duty in the back, meaning Kaoru had a moment of relative peace on the floor. He flashed his practiced customer service smile at the new arrival.

The man was tall, impeccably dressed, and exuded an air of quiet confidence. Kaoru, ever observant despite his "normal" job, immediately noticed the subtle gleam of the fabric. The cut of the suit was understated, yet undeniably perfect. As the man approached the counter, Kaoru's eyes honed in on a tiny, almost invisible detail on the lapel. His smile faltered for a microsecond before widening again.

"Welcome! What can I get for you today?" Kaoru chirped, already knowing the answer to his own unasked question.

"Just a regular black coffee, please," the man replied, his voice a smooth, low register. He pulled out a sleek, minimalist wallet.

As Kaoru started to prepare the order, he couldn't help himself. "Excuse me," he began, trying to sound casual, "is that a Kiton suit you're wearing?"

The man paused, his hand hovering over his wallet. He looked at Kaoru, a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes. "Yes, it is," he confirmed, a touch of curiosity now coloring his tone.

Kaoru grinned, leaning slightly over the counter. "Nice! Kiton's great, isn't it? I have three of them myself. The bespoke ones are really something."

A beat of silence hung in the air. Kyoya Ootori, for it was indeed him, raised an eyebrow. He was accustomed to people recognizing his family's status, or perhaps the subtle markers of his wealth. But for a part-time barista to not only identify a discreetly luxurious brand like Kiton but to casually mention owning three bespoke suits... that was unexpected. He narrowed his eyes, a familiar analytical gleam appearing. This wasn't typical retail banter.

"Ah, I see," Kyoya said, recovering quickly, though his mind was already whirring through possible scenarios. He simply paid for his coffee, accepting the steaming cup from Kaoru with a polite, albeit slightly distracted, "Thank you."

As Kyoya moved to find a table, he couldn't shake the image of the young man with the surprisingly discerning eye and the casual boast of owning multiple Kiton suits. An "ordinary" part-timer indeed. This coffee shop visit had just become far more interesting than he'd anticipated.

[givemeonereason]

My Blue-Eyed Master: Part 1

Part 2

Photo credit: here

Rating: 14+ (I know that this will gradually have more mature content in further parts.)

Plot: A handsome new customer comes to the cafe. What could go wrong?

A/n: This is the introductory piece to a short series I'm hoping to work on.

I was greatly inspired by watching "Maidsama" recently and loved it.

I was thinking, we all know Gojo would be living it up in a maid cafe. Lots of sweets, lots of women to fawn over him. Seems like the right place for him to be right?

While listening to this.

╒══════════════════════╕

Bells chimed when the entrance door opened.

A tall, well-dressed, white-haired man stood by the door wiping the rainwater off his shoes on the 'welcome' rug.

"Good afternoon, Master!" Three women in maid cosplay called out to him sweetly. Each of them walked up towards him to vying for his attention.

"Good afternoon." His smile was bright. He looked at them over the top of his dark black sunglasses. His bright blue eyes almost making one of the girls faint.

The girl who almost passed out, proved to be uneasy and weak in her knees. Being held up by the other two. You stepped in, not so easily swayed by his masculine wiles.

Your tone was not as nearly as high-pitched and cheery as the other girls. "Right this way Master." You didn't even look over your shoulder at him as you walked towards a table at the far end of the room. You set down a menu. "Please make yourself at home." And you walked away without bothering to pay him any mind.

"Oh my god, he's so handsome."

"I wonder if he's single."

"It's as if the gods sent us an angel."

You stood near the back preparing a teapot for another table. The roll of your eyes almost gave you vertigo.

"Ladies!" The matron of the cafe warned. "Please keep your voices down."

The girls who were huddled at the prep counter grew quiet. Only two of them were whispering amongst themselves about the mystery new client.

June, the co-owner of the cafe continued, "There are rules we place to protect you girls. Please make sure you follow them as well." She looked over at the man they were all gushing about. "No matter, how handsome or how charming, you never truly know what a person is capable of." She looked back toward you and the girls. "I've been in this business for some time and have seen my fair share of things to shock me." You have always loved how sweet and protective June was. She became like a loving aunt that you never had.

You've been working at Cafe Sakura for five years. You took the job as a part-time gig while you were in college. Low profile enough to not run into anyone you knew. But it served another purpose, which provided a confidence boost for you. Growing up you were never really seen as conventionally beautiful and you were picked on by the popular girls at the time. So being able to work in a place like this worked wonders on rewriting those negative inner monologues.

People were very kind to you while you've been working there. The regulars are respectful. Sure, there are some douchbags who are there especially to live out demented wet fantasies. But overall, it's a great place to work, and why you've been there for so long.

You dropped off the tea pot to a nearby table sharing pleasantries before you stopped back at that man's table with a glass of water. You were staring down at your small notepad, the fairy charm hanging from your pen jingling as you jotted down the table number. "What can I get for you, Master?"

He didn't answer at first, he was looking at you, waiting for you to look at him. Unfortunately for him, you only sidestepped near him, looking and pointing down at the menu. "If you're unsure about what to get for a first-timer, I suggest a slice of cheesecake." You grabbed the menu from his hands and flipped it over. "Any of these sauces or combinations can be used."

Still, he remained quiet, looking at you taking in your features. His eyes darting across your face, to the end of your hair, to the buttons on your near your collar, to your fingers wrapped around your pen. It was in the shape of a lobster claw. He started to chuckle. He lifted his hand to his lips to try and conceal his laughter.

"What?" You were so annoyed with this guy. It kept getting worse and more worse.

"So I take it you like seafood?" An eyebrow raised, he's looking between you and the red pen in your hand. His bright blue eyes showed over top the rim of his rounded glasses.

When you caught his eyes, you looked back down at your notepad. "Where would you get an idea like that?"

His hand so gently bent over, his finger pointing towards the claw.

Your eyes are furrowed. What is he up to, god almighty! You look down at your uniform checking for something that would give any indication of your meal preferences. That's when he stood up and walked towards you. He towered over you. He's taller than most men who frequent here.

The other ladies were gasping and cursing you under their breath. How they wish they could be you in that very moment. Close enough to taste his cologne....You rolled your eyes. They wouldn't mind tasting it. However, you, on the other hand, have had enough of his charade.

He took his glasses off with the swagger of man who can afford to buy several new pairs. Seeing his blue eyes in full view was so striking. Maybe you can use those glasses to shield yourself from the glare.

"I'm talking about your pen." He reached out and plucked it from your fingertips. He pulled it up and inspected it, giving it a solid click for good measure. "I just assumed one would be a seafood fan if they so blatantly paraded around with such a token."

Innermost sighhhhhhhh.

You snatched the pen from his hand. "I would appreciate it if you did not touch my things, sir. There are rules in place at this establishment and if you cannot follow them, I will have to ask you to leave."

All of your coworkers raced towards you. The girls fawn over the man, the matron pulling you by your elbow towards the back. "Y/n, what have I told you about talking to the customers like that?"

You cross your arms across your chest. "You're the one who created the rules. Some of them are strictly unspoken rules. He shouldn't have done that."

June closed her eyes. "He shouldn't have done that. And I don't take very well to anyone intimating my girls."

"...I wouldn't call that intimidating..." You added before she continued.

"If he would have put his hands on you I would have definitely thrown him out." She turned to you. "Focus on other patrons. I will have one of the other girls take care of him. If we're lucky, he might never come back."

A blessing, I'm sure.

You walked out from the back room and reached down into the front pocket of your maid cosplay. The lobster claw pen was buried down in there, but you pulled out a generic pen with a local business's address and phone number on it.

You could hear the girls giggling when they talked to that guy. His sultry voice charmed them as they served his cheesecake you so obviously suggested to him. Their breathy attempts at "master" were followed by him with a sweet "miss" and a wink.

It's disgusting how men prey on innocent girls. Good-looking, charming men are the worst of the worst.

A few of your afternoon regulars showed up and made the day redeemable. It's not always a bad day. There isn't always a bad customer. It's rare in the time you've been there. It does happen.

You thought on it, that guy wasn't that terrible. It was just you hated how forward people were sometimes. You work at a cosplay cafe, it should be expected. Men come here to live out their own fantasies. Women enjoy these experiences as well. It's just that you're more likely to run into a pervert than anything.

He just grabbed your pen is all. And he can't help that he's tall...and handsome. He was born that way, right?

Nonetheless, you might never see him again.

Possibly for the best.

Besides, you really do like that pen. It was the last gift your grandfather gave to you before he passed away. Silly as it is, it was a gag gift, but it's special to you. It's a way for you to think of him. Both your grandfather and you are just a little bit crabby. Ha!

.....to hell with that guy.

Damn it all.

Damn his beautiful eyes, damn his sexy voice, damn his gorgeous hair, damn his charisma, damn the way his clothes hug his body.

damn. that. man.

╘══════════════════════╛

© 2024 givemeonereason

Don’t steal other people’s works! Respect creators!

Reblogs and likes appreciated :)

[nonclassyparty]

seasons out of time - part 2 (teaser 2) (C.S)

You don't see San for eleven days after that (but who's counting?) and you dodge Yunho's messages for no other reason besides the fact that you're avoidant to the core and run away from your problems.

So, now, you're standing behind the counter with Hongjoong by your side as you're both trying to soak up the rare instance of peace in the afternoons at the shop as you clean up the coffee powder spilled onto the lower counter while Hongjoong messes about with the cash register.

The bell by the entrance door dings again signaling an incoming costumer and both Hongjoong and yourself look up out of habit by now.

You press your lips firmly together once you see San enter and walk up to the counter with determination written all over his features. He might look determined but he also looks...not too well, dark circles under eyes that were rimmed red and messy hair slightly damp from the snowflakes he caught on the walk to your shop.

All in all, San looks exhausted.

He comes to a stop in front of you, eyes filled with a certain fire that catches you by surprise for a quick second before you quickly recollect yourself.

You lick your lips, "What can I get for you?"

San's features darken for a split second as you utter the question, jaw clenches and for the first time, he looks properly angry at you.

To your utmost surprise, he doesn't say a word to you but instead, slides a step to the side to stand in front of Hongjoong who awkwardly raises his head from the register.

You watch in pure confusion as San gives him a cracked smile, the same dimples showing up on his pretty skin and Hongjoong glances at you before clearing his throat.

"Uh, yes?"

No matter how tired and devoid of sleep he looks, San's smile is charming, always was. "Excuse me, I saw the sign at the front that you're looking for a part-timer."

You think you stop breathing as you watch San tilt his head at Hongjoong. "Uh, yeah, we are. A part-timer..."

You swear San's pretty smile widens at that and your hands clench around the kitchen towel. He glances at you, almost smugly, before turning back to Hongjoong; "I'd like to apply."

"No, you wouldn't." The words are out of your mouth before your brain can even catch up to them.

San looks positively pleased as he turns to you, giving you a look of fake confusion that makes you clench your teeth. It reminds you of the time you first started working for him, when he would call you "new girl" and poke fun at you with sarcasm dripping in his voice. Smug bastard. "Oh sorry, are you the supervisor here?"

"You're not applying here." You tell him in a firm tone although you really have no right in deciding any of that. You are Hongjoong's employee.

San opens his mouth again, eyes dancing with some sort of mirth but gets interrupted by Hongjoong's cough. He slides next to you;

"Uh, we haven't really...had anyone else apply except for that Junseo kid and I'm pretty sure he's addicted to crack." Hongjoong says in a hushed whisper and your eyes fall shut in annoyance before they flutter open again.

San chimes in again, "I don't smoke crack!"

"San, you're not applying-"

San, on the other hand, completely ignores you and gives Hongjoong another employee-of-the-month worthy smile again. "I'd like to apply."

You throw the kitchen towel on the counter in fury and stomp your way around the counter towards him before grabbing him by the wrist and dragging San, who has a dumb, stupidly endearing look of surprise on his face, through the kitchen and then the back door of the coffee shop to the small alley behind the shop leaving a flabbergasted Hongjoong standing behind the counter.

As soon as you're engulfed by the cold air you throw his hand away and angrily (maybe a bit too dramatically) turn to confront him.

"What do you want?" You spit out and San hesitates for a moment eyes roaming over your sweatshirt.

"You'll catch a cold like this-"

"What. Do. You. Want." You repeat, wagging your finger at him to punctuate each word.

San sighs, features softening in a way that makes your heart squeeze but you'll blame it on the cold, "Just to talk. That's all I want."

"I already told you; I don't want to talk." You let out a groan, rubbing at your eyes and probably rubbing off the little mascara you coated your lashes in this morning. "Why is it so hard for you to take 'no' for an answer?!"

He frowns, looking like you've just insulted him. "I can take 'no' for an answer just fine but I'd appreciate it if you'd hear me out first. I just want to explain myself properly, I know that back there was wrong," He motions to the door, referencing himself just applying for a job where you work, "But it was the only way you'd actually look at me properly and speak more than six words to me."

Something inside of you warms up at that, which isn't right, you shouldn't be this close to him right now but...it's been eleven days since you've last seen him. A part of you, buried deep under all the pain and all the memories, was scared that he won't come around anymore and that you won't see him. That he really had enough of your bullshit and gave up.

Deep, deep down somewhere where all your other little secrets that you would never allow to admit to yourself reside; there is a little one which says that you don't want him to give up. You want him to keep trying, keep coming, keep begging. 

You sniffle, the cold causing your nose to run easily and cross your arms over your chest as you just your chin out at him. "Well, go ahead then. Talk."

San stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shifting from one foot to the other as the adorable, devastating pout you've grown used to appears again.

"Well, I can't talk now...you're angry."

"Wha-" You scoff out a laugh, looking to the side in utter disbelief as you mutter to yourself. "This is so fuckin' stupid."

His frown only grows and you're pretty sure he's never even aware that he's pouting. "It's not stupid, I'm serious. You won't take anything I say into consideration right now because you're mad."

You open your mouth to tell him off again but once again, you know he's kind of right. If he says something to get your defenses to crumble, you won't ever let it show because you started the conversation while being angry and in your head, that's the way it should end as well.

What is wrong with you?

"Yeah, I'm angry, San, and I have a job to get back to so either say something or leave." You loudly exclaim, body slightly shivering from the cold that's starting to affect you.

San seems to just stand there for a prolonged moment, thinking about something before his brows jump up and he shuffles out a small piece of paper out of the pocket of his jacket before taking a hesitant step towards you and pulling out the pen out of your apron. You take a step back when he gets the pen, feeling like he got too close. And of course, he notices.

"If you would meet me here...Tomorrow at....seven?" He starts to speak, scribbling something clumsily on the piece of crumbled up paper, "We could talk...properly." San clears his throat, handing you the crumbled up receipt with what you assume is an address of some sort scribbled on it now. "Obviously, you don't have to show up. I'd love it if you did because I'd really like to talk to you but...but if you don't, I'll take it as your answer, Y/N, I'll take it as a 'no' and I won't show up again. Promise."

You stare at the folded up receipt in your hand before stuffing it in the back pocket of your jeans.

You don't know what to say now, San is still standing just an arm-length away from you, peering down at you with his pretty eyes filled with sweet desperation, looking like he's thinking of something to say just to be able to talk to you for a little bit longer and you can't stand it for much longer.

"I have to get back to work." You mutter, eyes falling to the snow covered pavement at your feet.

He sighs lowly, his mouth turning downwards as his eyes fall, "Alright."

You turn for the back-door again before he calls your name, voice softer this time, "Please...consider it. Please."

You walk in without another word.