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fiber-optic-alligator · 11 months ago

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Ready Or Not, Here I Come

Pairing: TFP Knockout x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains mentions of soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 2875

Summary: Being kidnapped by a giant alien robot who also happens to be one of the most narcissistic assholes on this side of the galaxy wasn't something you planned for today. Unfortunately, things happen, and now you must hide and escape from a mech who certainly doesn't want to let you go.

Knockout fic time ya'll eat up. This is actually my first time writing for him and I did A LOT of research on his mannerisms and personality to make sure I got him right. I also really wanted to play into the fearplay factor and show how terrifying it would be for one of us humans to be hunted by what is essentially an apex predator that has its notoriety spread to numerous planets who have interacted with Cybertronians, especially Decepticons. Feedback and comments are much appreciated! Enjoy trying to escape from this handsome idiot :)

You are screwed.

Like, absolutely, positively screwed.

You huddle in the corner of the empty boxcar, your entire body shivering from cold and fear. The evening is dark, with no light except from the moon to illuminate the deserted trainyard around you. Your breath is labored and quick, coming out in puffs of dragon’s smoke while you tremble and hug yourself tighter, sinking into the little warmth your winter coat provides.

You feel a vibration pulse beneath you.

All of your senses are on overdrive. You go still while you strain your ears for the slightest sound of movement, holding your breath and pressing your hands into your forearms.

Silence.

There’s only the roar of your own heart.

Maybe it was from a car, you think to yourself. Or a truck. There’s a road not far from here. It had to be that.

Convincing yourself you are safe is not working.

Your body still shakes, and your instincts know, they can sense that you aren’t out of the woods yet. The thing that took you is still out there.

You want to mutually sob and laugh from the utter disbelief of it. Monsters are real. And you are being hunted by one.

“Boom.”

The boxcar trembles.

Your heart stops and you feel the chilling sensation of numbness prickle over your skin.

The night is silent.

“Boom.”

Footsteps echo in the distance.

They aren’t human. They’re too heavy, too loud.

He knows where you are. He’s coming for you.

Panic sets in. Scrambling to your feet, you leave your little corner and poke your head out of the boxcar’s open door. Fog has set in and turned the trainyard into an eerie maze with paths draped in mist. Your sense of direction is thrown off by the hazy images of the other boxcars all around you. Everything looks exactly the same. This place is huge; how are you supposed to find your way out of it? You can’t even recall the way you took to get to this point!

“Boom.”

He’s getting closer.

“Shitshitshit.” You turn in a circle and pull at your hair while your chest constricts and you feel a familiar tugging from behind your eyes that means oncoming tears. You don’t know what to do. What can you do? How are you supposed to get out of this? You're running out of time!

Don’t panic. That’s rule number one. Panicking will only make you an easier target. You force your arms to drop. Inhaling deep through your nose and letting it out of your mouth, you close your eyes and urge yourself to relax.

You will find a way out of here. When the creature brought you here, you saw a gas station about a mile away down the main road that borders the trainyard. If you can make it there, someone will have to help you. You just have to remain unseen until then.

“BOOM.”

The boxcar shakes. You wobble a little, and your hope drops.

“Helloooo!” A prim male voice announces itself. “Little human! I know you're here!”

You duck out of view and press yourself against the boxcar’s wall. Footsteps echo with the smooth whirrr of mechanical joints moving a massive robotic body through the alleyways of train cars.

You don’t understand why he’s doing this. You were minding your own business, going about your life like any regular person does, when all of a sudden this…car zoomed straight for you and flashed you with a blinding blue light. Everything had gone black then, and when you woke up, you were trapped in a vehicle with no driver. A vehicle that was talking. Thank god it was still a vehicle with a steering wheel and brakes, because you managed to get into the front seat and crash it into a ditch. That’s how you ended up here. You were running and hiding from a car-turned-giant robot who’s probably pissed you scuffed up his paint job.

You hear a growl that sends shivers down your spine.

Okay. He’s definitely pissed.

“Oh, I know you fleshies love your little games,” the robot lilts, “but I’m not particularly in the mood to play one. So, either you come out now, or I will have to force you out of hiding. Trust me human, you really don’t want to know what I’m like when I get serious.”

You have to get out of here. If you don’t run now, he’s going to find you, and you’ll never have another chance to escape again. Gathering up what little courage you have, you once again peek outside.

A pair of massive red eyes stare right back at you.

A scream is ripped from your lungs. You fall flat on your ass, pushing yourself away from the giant robot looking in. The mech cackles. “Oh, that was priceless! You fleshies are so easy to startle!”

“F-Fuck off!” you yell hoarsely at him. “Get the fuck away from me!”

He laughs again and reaches a clawed hand into the boxcar. You shriek and fumble to avoid the oncoming digits. The corner once again becomes your safe haven when you curl up into it, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

The robot smirks. “All bark and no bite, hmm? I was expecting that. All of you fleshbags are the same. You think you're so tough, until something bigger comes along to snap at you.”

You give him the most withering glare you can muster, but you guess it doesn’t exactly do the job, since he only chuckles. “If you weren’t such a revolting mass of organic waste, I would actually find you rather cute, you know. Ah, shame. And here I was thinking about being rather gentle with you.”

“W-What do you want with me?!” You stand up on shaky legs that nearly give out beneath you. “Why did you kidnap me? What did I do?”

“You really want to know the truth?” he asks.

“Yes, obviously!”

He shrugs. “Alright. I was bored. I saw you and decided, hey, why not have a little bit of fun before I go? Is that a satisfactory answer for you, human?”

You blink dumbfoundedly. “So you…you kidnapped me and drove me out into the middle of bumblefuck nowhere because you were bored?!”

“Well, I hardly think being bored is a simple reason,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Boredom can be quite the bane to one’s existence. It can lead to all sorts of medical complications. Depression, stress, irritable tank syndrome-”

“Cut the crap!” You interrupt him with a gnash of your teeth. “This isn’t funny! Take me back to where you picked me up, right now!”

“It’s quite funny to me.” The mech drums his claws idly against the boxcar’s floor. “You know what else is funny? The fact that you actually think you're in control of this situation. Tell me, what if I were to say no?”

You open your mouth to retort, but find no sound comes out. The mech raises an eyebrow. His shit-eating grin widens. “What, got nothing to say? That’s fine, I really didn’t expect you to have an answer. Here’s the thing: You're not going anywhere right now. So, kick back, relax. Maybe if you're a good little meatbag, I’ll consider letting you go.”

“I’m not a meatbag!” You're really starting to hate this guy. “I’m a person! A human being!”

“Human, meatbag, it’s all the same.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Now, are you going to make this easy for yourself? Or are we going to keep up this argument that is not only petty, but also rather meaningless?”

You slump back down and draw your knees close to your chest, lowering your head a little and wishing you weren’t shaking with fear. The mech takes great delight in this. He inhales deeply and sighs, shuddering ecstatically. “Ah, there it is again. That wonderful scent of terror. It’s absolutely tantalizing.”

Your head shoots up. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me. I didn’t take you just because I was bored, you know. I was also on the lookout for a snack.”

“You…eat humans?” You gape at him, horrified.

“Not typically. But ever since my home planet decided to, well, blow up ages ago, my kind have had to resort to some…secondary methods in order to survive.”

“So, you’re-you’re an alien?”

“No. I’m just a normal Aston Martin.” He oozes narcissism while he runs a hand expressingly down his shoulder armor. “Notice the expensive color? The gold rims? I’m a real work of art, you know. You should appreciate me more.”

You feel like you are ready to explode. “Be serious! What are you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Hmph. No sense of humor. Typical humans. Fine, since you want to be such a downer about everything, I’ll tell you. I’m a Cybertronian, fleshbag. My name is Knockout.” He tapped his chest like you were a child he was teaching basic English to. “And you are?”

You grumble, reluctant to give up your identity, but feeling obligated to since he just revealed his. “It’s…Y/N.”

“Hm. Y/N. Pretty name.” He smiles. “So, Y/N. Ready to come out of there and face the music?”

You shake your head fervently. “N-No way!”

His eyes glint with sinister mischief. “What if we were to play a little game?”

“I’m not interested in playing any game with you.”

“Come on. It’s not like you have anything better to do. Just hear me out. I’ll give you twenty Earth minutes to find your way out of here. If you do, I won’t follow you, and I’ll let you go. But if I do find you…” He slowly gouges his claws against the boxcar’s floor. The wood splits and shatters, leaving behind deep, messy wounds. An impending sense of doom fills you.

“If I do find you, you're mine,” he says. “And you will accept that with no opposition.”

You stand up in protest. “That's a terrible game!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s perfectly reasonable. I’m giving you a chance to prove you aren’t as pathetic as you make yourself look. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“The worst that could happen would be me being eaten by a giant fucking alien robot!”

“You won’t die.” His voice grows uncharacteristically soft. For a moment, you actually think you see a hint of genuineness in his eyes. “I can promise you that. I don’t digest organics. It’s not good for my systems.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right. As if I’d believe you.”

“I can prove I’ll be fair with this.” He rises and takes a few steps back. “I’ll stay right here and even give you a head start! How thoughtful of me. I don’t display generosity like this very often, so my advice would be to take advantage of it.”

You hesitate and consider your odds. If you remain in here, not only are you essentially trapped, but the mech can also easily shake you out. But if you take up his offer…you might actually have a chance to escape.

The mech taps his foot impatiently. “I don’t have all night, Y/N. Come out, or I’ll drag you out.”

Slowly, you inch out of the boxcar. He towers over you, a massive red giant who, now that you fully perceive him, looks more and more alien by the second. Cherry red and silver with accents of yellow peeking out between joints that come together to create something that should not be possible. He’s bulky, yet slim at the same time, with spiky points neatly jutting up from his knees and shoulders. The finials on his head give him a sharp, shark-like look. There’s an equal mixture of danger and beauty surrounding him, and it makes you even more uncomfortable with him being around you. You full heartedly believe he could snap you up in one bite if he wishes.

He tilts his head with an air of curiosity and offers you a charming smile. “There you are,” he coos. “Look at you. I knew you could do it. Good little human. You like what you see?”

You have to look away so he won’t see the way your cheeks flush red. “No, I don’t,” you shakily retort. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Aww, you're flustered. Don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in admitting you're attracted to me. I’m a real knockout when it comes to looks.”

“Oh my god.” You slap a hand over your face. “Oh my god. You are horrible.”

Knockout throws his head back and laughs. “Get used to it, fleshy. Your feelings will grow for me sooner or later. Now, go on, scurry along now. Remember, five minutes and I’m coming for you.”

You can’t believe you’ve agreed to this. You don’t want to believe this is happening. A giant alien robot from outer space wants to hunt you down and take you away from your life. How the hell could your day have gone so wrong?

You find yourself running. You’ve agreed to this game. Now you have to go through with it. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t.

Your feet clumsily hit the ground and create loud, uneven steps. Too loud. Too obvious. How long has it been? A minute? Or thirty seconds? Nervous sweat beads your brow. Hiding within another boxcar would be too easy. You must use this maze to your advantage. There is no elaborate plan of deception rising up within your mind. When you spontaneously decide to shimmy your way beneath a boxcar, only one thing is certain: you just need to hide.

The tracks are cold and uncomfortable to lay over. You squirm and hiss through your teeth when the metal presses up against your stomach and legs, but you bear with it and remain in place. There is no sound. Just your breath. Just your heart.

“Boom. Boom. Boom.”

Mighty steps shake the ground forcefully. A twin pair of mechanical red-and-silver feet stomp past you, a methodical movement thundering down the line of cars as that of an animal pacing back and forth with hungry impatience, watching first one boxcar and then another, alert for movement inside. There is laughter beyond your cover, mocking you.

The thunder fades to simple vibrations. You must move. You roll out and stand, going in the opposite direction as Knockout. Steady footsteps. You must remain calm. But your breathing is still uneven and your heart still fights within your chest like a caged bird. You are afraid. So, so afraid.

“Scccccccrrraaape.”

Metal screeches. You can hear him dragging his claws across a boxcar’s top.

“I can smell you, you know,” he gloats sardonically. Hair prickles up the back of your neck. “Do you know what you smell like?” he continues. “Do you want to know?”

“Boom. Boom. Boom.”

“The purest energon from the richest of mines. So delicious, so tasty. Oh, I cannot wait to get my jaws around you, little human.”

You aimlessly turn a corner and see a hulking vermillion frame right in front of you.

You just…freeze. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you can do nothing but stare at the gigantic robot. He’s crouched on one knee, peering into a boxcar with his back turned to you. You make the terrible mistake of releasing a soft gasp. It’s no louder than the faintest of whispers, but he hears. Of course he hears.

The robot’s head snaps towards you. Unblinking crimson eyes search for you in the dark, pupils expanding and contracting repeatedly. You remain still. The tension in your muscles burns, yet you refuse to take your eyes off of him.

He is a piece of tech beyond your understanding. But even robotics can have trouble seeing through fog.

The mech inhales deeply through his mouth. His pupils become so large they nearly swallow up the red of his eyes. A wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.

“Hm. Using the fog to your advantage. Clever little one. You're making this much more fun.” He stands. “Unfortunately for you, this liquid vapor does not hide everything.”

You are whipcord tight, standing there with your feet nailed to the ground. There is a disconnection between your brain and your limbs. The mech has you under a spell, crafting your fear into a paralyzing weapon. You are too terrified to even utter a sound.

He approaches you, slowly. You have to crane your neck to meet his gaze when he stands directly over you. “My, my,” he croons. “Such a fragile, delicate little thing. You make this too easy for me. Oh yeah, I’m definitely keeping you.”

Your voice cracks a little. “I thought I was just a revolting mass of organic waste?”

“You are. But, I’m willing to change my mind. After all, you’ve made this such an entertaining night for me. I’ve come to realize that…I need to see your fear again. This can’t be a one-time thing. It makes me far too…hungry.”

Your hands shake when you raise them pleadingly. “H-How hungry?”

He smiles wickedly, tongue running over his teeth. “Starved.”

You don’t have time to even think about screaming before he lunges, claws caging you in and mouth descending for you, ready to swallow you whole.

#gator writes #transformers #transformers prime #knockout x reader #transformers knockout #reader insert #tfp knockout #tfp x reader #transformers prime x reader #maccadam #transformers g/t #soft vore #safe vore #g/t fearplay #don't worry you'll be fiiine #he's not gonna hurt you #just rough you up a little

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may-russell · 4 months ago

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Just the two of us… 🎶☕️

You work at a coffee shop and once Hamzah notices you, he becomes a regular.

Word count: 2875 (sorry if it's too long)

!hamzah x fem reader.

!slowburn?

Part 2/3:

As Hamzah was walking towards his car, he kept reliving that last moment between you two, the ambiance in the coffee shop, how you looked, your smile, how you waved at him goodbye, maybe it wasn’t that deep and he was just romanticizing that last interaction. Either way, the chances of something like that happening again were low, he might as well forget about it.

He got into his car, and as he turned it on the radio went off, "Good evening, Toronto! I'm Stevie, your host for tonight, and you're tuned in to Jazz.fm. Get ready to unwind with a timeless favorite, 'Just The Two Of Us' by the one and only Grover Washington Jr. Sit back, relax, and let the music take you on a journey through the night." And just like that he was thinking of excuses to go back and talk to you. –I could pretend I forgot something… but maybe she’s already gone… I could go back tomorrow and be like ‘Oh I just LOVEEE the coffee here’… hundreds of people go there everyday she won’t even remember me… Why am I even thinking this much about her? She’s just a barista. I don’t even know her. Fuck. I want to know her. This seems like something I should journal about- The drive back home was short, it’s surprising how time works when you’re hyperfocused on something, he was in that coffee shop all afternoon, and even after it closed, but it still wasn’t enough.

Once he was finally home he started to unpack his backpack… “Shit, I did actually forget something. Guess I’m going back tomorrow”.

Next morning

MONDAY

It’s 8:45 am, Hamzah is getting out of the shower and is starting to get ready for the day. He checks his phone and, according to google, the café is about to open, he’s already changed his outfit twice, and ended up settling on a purple hoodie, jeans and a gray hat, something casual whilst still trying to look nice, he even put on cologne. His plan is to run some errands, swing by the coffee shop to retrieve his notebook, and who knows, maybe run into the cute girl he hasn’t stopped thinking about. Oh, and, since he’s already in the area, he’s also meeting Martin for lunch downtown after that.

Once he finishes having breakfast, Hamzah checks his appearance one last time in the mirror, adjusting the tilt of his hat and smoothing down the sleeves of his hoodie. He feels a nervous excitement bubbling inside him as he heads out the door.

As he runs his errands throughout the morning, his mind keeps drifting back to the coffee shop and the barista. He finds himself taking longer than usual at each stop, mentally rehearsing what he might say if he sees her again. At the hardware store, he absentmindedly compares different shades of paint for his new apartment, thinking about whether she would prefer a cozy warm tone or something brighter.

While picking up groceries, he debates whether to buy something special from the bakery section of the supermarket, just in case he gets the chance to share it with her. Each item he picks up reminds him of their brief encounter—the smell of fresh-baked bread brings back memories of the coffee shop, and he can almost taste the cappuccino and chocolate donut he had the day before.

By the time he finishes his errands, he realizes it's almost time to swing by the coffee shop. He checks his phone nervously, wondering if she'll be there today. His heart races with anticipation as he imagines walking in and seeing her smile again.

He gets on his car and drives, as he reaches the familiar corner where the coffee shop stands, he notices a few early risers already seated outside, sipping their morning brew. Hamzah's heart skips a beat as he pushes open the door, the soft jingle announcing his arrival.

Inside, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops him, mingling with the soft chatter of other customers. Hamzah spots the counter where he had talked to the barista yesterday, but to his disappointment, she's not there. He tries to hide his frown, reminding himself that she might be in the back or arriving later.

Approaching the counter, He asks the barista on duty about his lost notebook. The young woman, not the one he hoped to see, smiles politely and checks behind the counter. After a brief search, she returns empty-handed, apologizing that she doesn't see any notebooks left behind. Just as Hamzah was turning around to leave, relief washed over him as Ethan, the familiar barista from the previous evening, entered the frame holding his black hardcover notebook. "Wait. Is this your notebook?" Ethan asked, handing it over. "The barista working last night told me you might come back for it."

Hamzah's face lit up again. "Thanks! Is she around? I'd like to thank her."

Ethan's expression shifted slightly. "No, she's not here today, but I'll pass on the message that you got it back."

Hamzah pressed further, his eagerness evident. "Do you know when she'll be here? Maybe tomorrow?"

Ethan hesitated, sensing Hamzah's persistence. "She's not coming tomorrow either."

"Well, when is she working next?" Hamzah asked, oblivious to Ethan's growing discomfort.

"Look man," Ethan began, trying to keep his tone friendly yet firm, "I can't give out that information. I'm sure you mean well, but I can't help you."

Hamzah finally caught on, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry, I just... I had a nice chat with her last night, and I forgot to ask for her name. I didn't mean to be weird or anything."

Ethan nodded understandingly. "I get it, but you'll have to swing by some other time if you want to see her again."

"Thanks, and sorry again," Hamzah said, realizing he had crossed a boundary. With a nod of farewell, he left the coffee shop, feeling disappointed yet understanding of Ethan's position.

After leaving the coffee shop, Hamzah made his way downtown to meet Martin for lunch. As he walked through the bustling streets of Toronto, his mind wandered back to his brief visit to the coffee shop and the disappointment of not seeing the barista again. He replayed the conversation with Ethan in his head, wondering when he might have another opportunity to return.

Arriving at their favorite lunch spot, Hamzah spotted Martin already seated at a corner table, waving enthusiastically as he approached. The restaurant buzzed with the hum of conversations and clinking of cutlery, creating a lively atmosphere that contrasted with the quiet of the coffee shop.

"Hey man, you made it!" Martin greeted him with a grin, gesturing for Hamzah to take a seat. "What's up? You seem a bit distracted."

Hamzah slid into the chair opposite Martin, trying to shake off his thoughts about the barista. "Yeah, just had a morning errand to run," he replied vaguely, not wanting to burden Martin with his romantic musings just yet.

Martin raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Morning errand, huh? Anything exciting happen?"

Hamzah chuckled nervously, deciding to share a toned-down version of his coffee shop visit. "Not really, just went to pick up something I left behind yesterday."

Martin leaned in curiously. "Oh? What did you forget?"

"My notebook," Hamzah explained briefly. "I left it at this new coffee shop I checked out yesterday. The barista there... she was really nice."

Martin's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah, I see where this is going. Did you get her number?"

Hamzah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nah, I didn't even get her name. And when I went back today, she wasn't there."

Martin frowned sympathetically. "Bummer, man. But hey, maybe it's fate. You'll probably run into her again."

"Yeah, maybe," Hamzah agreed half-heartedly. "Anyway, how's your day been so far?"

The conversation drifted to lighter topics as they ordered their lunch and caught up on each other's lives. Martin shared updates about his work projects, and Hamzah talked about his plans for the podcast and the ongoing move. Despite his disappointment from earlier, being with Martin helped to lighten his mood.

As they finished their meal and paid the bill, Hamzah felt a renewed sense of determination. He knew he would visit the coffee shop again, notebook or no notebook, in the hope of seeing the barista once more. Maybe next time, he thought to himself, he would remember to ask for her name.

Your Pov:

MONDAY

It’s 6:00 in the morning, you’ve just woken up, you’re mustering up the strenght to get out of bed and start getting ready for work. You play your favorite playlist and get dressed, still tired from getting home later than usual last night, but hanging around that cute guy made it a bit worth it. As you make breakfast, you hear a familiar tune

-I see the crystal raindrops fall And the beauty of it all Is when the sun comes shining through To make those rainbows in my mind When I think of you sometime And I wanna spend some time with you-

Suddendly you’re dancing around your kitchen, having one of those “Ah, this is the life” moments, realizing it would be much more exciting if there was someone dancing and singing next to you, but you can’t let those thoughts haunt you for long, the day has just begun. You check yourself in the mirror before heading out the door, you get in your car and it makes that same weird sound it’s been making for the past week, “Mhm, I’m sure it’s nothing” you say, brushing it off, and off you go.

At around 11 am you get a text from Ethan, “Hey, the guy from last night came by to pick up his notebook. He kept asking about you”. “What did he say?” You texted back.

“Not much, he wanted to know your name, and was pretty insistent on when he could see you again to “thank you” 👀 a bit weird”.

“Ohhh u should’ve told him, he was cute lol”

“haha I’m sure he’ll come back”.

You put your phone down and continued doing your work, you thought thinking about him throughout the day was too much, but it seemed like his interest was more than a simple “thank you”. Like there was some unfinished busssiness between the both of you. As you went about your tasks, the memory of his earnest inquiries lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn't help but wonder what he was like beyond that brief interaction—what his name was, what he did when he wasn't at the coffee shop, and why he seemed so eager to see you again.

Despite trying to push the thoughts aside, you found yourself checking your phone a little too often, half-expecting another message from Ethan with an update. Each time, you told yourself to focus on your work, but the anticipation was undeniable.

As the day progressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that his visit had left a mark. It wasn't just about retrieving a forgotten notebook anymore; there seemed to be an unspoken connection, a curiosity that went beyond politeness. Maybe he would come back, you mused, imagining the possibility of seeing him again. You’ve never been more excited to clock in at work on a weekend.

WEDNESDAY

It’s been three days since your last (and only) encounter. Hamzah is out for a run, “Bags” by Clairo’s playing on his AirPods—‘Can you see me? I’m waiting for the right time. I can’t read you but if you want the pleasure is all mine’—he hums along, remembering a clip of a genius interview where Clairo explained the meaning behind the song, how when you have a crush on someone, every minute you’re not spending with them feels like a waste of time, and, inevitably, he was thinking about you again.

This whole infatuation feels a bit ridiculous to Hamzah, but no one had taken his interest like that before, plus he had already embarrassed himself to you coworker, he was already in too deep to not see where going down this road would lead him. He felt an unexplainable attraction towards a complete stranger, like there was a rope in his chest pulling him to you, to that coffee shop, and before he realized it, he was there again, it was like he was running on autopilot and his subconcsious had taken him there, I mean, he was planning on paying a visit today, but not now; he hadn’t thought about what he would say if you we’re there, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking in.

He approached the counter, skimming through the menu, his order was still as basic as before, but this time he got an oatmeal and green apple cookie instead of a chocolate donut. “Is this to go? Or to eat here?” The cashier asked as he turned his head to face him “Hey! It’s you again”.

“Heeeyyy, I’m back” Hamzah shyly replied, “Umm, to go, please”.

“Yeah, I figured. She’s not here btw, but she said you were good, come back on Saturday”.

Hamzah’s eyes widen, a smile creeping into his lips, he tries to play it cool but the excitement in his voice was evident. “She said that? She’ll be here?”.

“Yeah haha, here you go” Ethan replied with a smile.

“Thanks! Guess I’ll see you in a few days, um… Ethan,” He said pointing to the nametag hanging on the cashier’s black apron, “I’m Hamzah” He continued, reaching out for handshake.

“Yeah, see you.” Ethan says, shaking his hand back.

Hamzah left the coffee shop with a newfound sense of anticipation for Saturday. The thought of seeing you again lingered in his mind as he drove home. He couldn’t help but replay the brief interactions and your smile, which seemed to brighten the entire coffee shop.

As the week progressed, Hamzah found himself constantly thinking about Saturday. He went about his usual routines, working on his podcast episodes, filming with Martin and settling into his new apartment, but your image kept creeping into his thoughts. He wondered what Saturday would bring—would you remember him? Would you be as friendly and approachable as before?

Saturday finally arrived...

and Hamzah found himself standing outside the coffee shop, trying to calm his nerves. He wore a casual outfit, hoping to strike the right balance between laid-back and presentable. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The familiar aroma of coffee greeted him, mingling with the soft hum of conversations. Ethan was behind the counter again, and as soon as he spotted Hamzah, he grinned knowingly. Hamzah approached with a hesitant smile.

"Hey, Ethan! Is she here today?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Ethan chuckled. "Yeah, she's around. Just a sec."

Hamzah's heart raced as Ethan disappeared into the back. He glanced around the coffee shop, spotting you arranging cups on a nearby shelf. You looked up, and for a moment, your eyes met. A smile tugged at your lips as recognition sparked between you.

Hamzah felt a rush of relief and excitement. When Ethan returned, he gestured towards you. "Hey, she'll be with you in a moment."

Sure enough, you approached the counter with a warm smile. "Hey! You’re back. Heard you’ve been asking about me," you greeted him.

"Yeah, couldn't resist coming back," Hamzah replied with a sheepish grin. "I wanted to thank you properly for last time."

You chuckled softly. "No problem at all. What were you working on that day? You seemed pretty focused."

"Oh, just some podcast stuff and a bit of writing," Hamzah explained, feeling more at ease now that he was talking to you again.

"That's cool," you said, nodding. "Well, I'm glad you came back. Can I get you anything today?"

Hamzah glanced at the menu, though he had already decided on something basic. "Just a cappuccino and... another chocolate donut, please."

You nodded, punching in his order. As you prepared it, the conversation flowed easily between you. Hamzah learned a bit more about you—your interests, your love for books and jazz music, and your favorite places in Toronto. He shared some details about his work and recent move, finding common ground in unexpected places.

When you handed him his order, Hamzah hesitated for a moment. "Hey, I know this might be forward, but would you like to grab coffee or something sometime? Outside of this coffee shop, I mean," he asked, hoping he wasn't coming on too strong.

Your smile widened, and you glanced at Ethan who was discreetly giving you an encouraging nod. "I'd like that," you replied. "Here, let me give you my number."

Hamzah's heart leaped with joy as he took your phone and entered his number. "Great, I'll text you so you have mine too," he said, handing your phone back to you.

As Hamzah left the coffee shop that day, he couldn't stop smiling. He had come back hoping to see you again, and now he had plans to meet up outside of work. It felt like the beginning of something exciting, and he couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

hope u like it! Part 3

@1800-love-me

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