#americano cookie

[quibbs126]

this is the opposite of a kid request lmao, but i figured i'd ask anyway… so i headcanon energy drink cookie as soda cookie's older sibling? (they're both fizzy, caffeinated beverages, and i love both characters individually… seemed to fit. i dunno.) so my request is what would their parent(s) be like?

Finally got them done, this is Americano Cookie and Fruit Punch Cookie

I’m not entirely sure how to format these fan parent pages yet, but this is what I’m going with for now

Alright, character time. So starting with Fruit Punch, she runs a beachside juice bar, and she’s an extroverted and energetic person who just wants to have a good time. Her husband Americano on the other hand is a businessman who works out in the city. He’s a fairly serious and uptight person, and has trouble unwinding and not being in his business mindset. He’s fairly nice, he’s just bad at letting loose

They met when one day Americano’s coworkers dragged him to Fruit Punch’s bar. Americano likes her because of her fun loving personality and that she’s an incredibly confident lady, and Fruit Punch likes him because he’s a sweet guy, and also she finds it fun trying to pry him out of his shell

Also Americano now likes to wear more colorful ties as some sort of expression of creativity, and because of Fruit Punch’s influence on him

Alright, now for their names. So basically, Americano is supposed to be the caffeine and water (assuming Soda is soda water), and Fruit Punch is supposed to be the fizzy, sugar and the flavor

Americano and fruit punch:

So yeah, I’m aware of the fact that red and brown do not make blue and green, but shush, maybe it’s recessive genes. Also I wasn’t going to not make these two the colors of their drinks. But I tried to at least have some blue and green in their designs and eyes

There’s not much to say about their designs really, I just made Fruit Punch look like she lives on the beach and Americano like he’s a business person

I gave Fruit Punch the bubble pattern as a reference to them being drinks, and also because I didn’t want to draw a bunch of flowers for a flower print shirt

Also I think I had originally planned for one of them to have lighter skin while the other has darker, but coffee Cookies usually have darker dough, with the only lighter ones being the ones with milk, and Fruit Punch kind of has an afro going on, so I just kept their dough colors dark

I gave Americano his yellow accents because some pictures of americano I’ve seen have

But overall I quite like their designs, I think they look good

And yeah, that about wraps things up for my first fan parent request, I hope you like them!

[shipshinaa]

Okay but I thought that I need to share some of my cookie run OC's with you guys

So I'll make a scetchy references for all of them

First - Milk Americano Cookie

Works in the same building as Espresso, dealing with money and financing new projects. She has a husband, Amaretto (my friend's character, I'll make a reference only if he allows it)

[the-pardon-my-french]

life's complicated, coffee helps.

[cheruib]

my brain has literally stopped responding i need to switch up my studying environment or I’m not gonna get anything done today </3

[psychopacifist-rm-arts]

Psycho run!

[what-she-likes]

John Wick + Kush

[beingjellybeans]

Recharge for the holiday rush with Bo's Coffee at the SM Store, Araneta City

The holiday season is a whirlwind of activity – a hectic dance of shopping for gifts, preparing festive feasts, and organizing family gatherings. For moms, the month of October can be especially demanding as we juggle the demands of everyday life with the added pressure of holiday preparations. Amidst the chaos, a moment to pause and recharge is invaluable. Fortunately, there is a delightful…

[cumikering]

F1 John Price x reader

2.7k | fluff Price raced for Mclaren. You didn’t know that (part 2)

No human body was made for this: jetting across continents and time zones for nine months out of twelve.

Even after the years, John Price hadn’t got used to it. Neither was he used to flying from Las Vegas to London for a photoshoot only to hop on another plane the day after for his next race in Qatar.

He groaned internally, his body aching as he plopped down onto the backseat of the cab before taking his black surgical mask and cap off. He didn’t get a proper rest with how turbulent his flight was.

“Oh, I’ve seen ya mate!” the middle-aged driver exclaimed, eyeing him from the rear-view mirror. “You’re famous- you’re the F1 bloke, innit?”

John gave him a polite smile.

“Could you sign something of mine?” He popped open his glovebox. “Wait, this wouldn’t sell so high…” he muttered as he rummaged through it.

The cars behind started a cacophony of honks.

“Am in the way.” He chuckled sheepishly as he pulled away. “You better not run off before I find something!"

Downtown London was packed at the hour. The driver had plenty of time to look through every nook and cranny of his car, but cursing when he could only come up with a yellowing notepad and a drying pen. John made do.

“Could you also put your name down, please?” He held the pad over his shoulder after he’d inspected it. “So we know who you are.”

And he did, with another rehearsed smile.

“Cheers, mate.” With a pleased grin, he tossed the pad onto the passenger seat, not even bothering to make eye contact amidst the traffic.

At the red light around the corner of the magazine HQ, the taxi halted in front of a coffee shop. He glanced at his watch - he was 20 minutes early and he desperately needed caffeine.

John pulled his mask and cap back on before exiting the car. The cap was still stiff, one with a French flag patch he grabbed at random at the airport with a grumble. He’d misplaced the plain one he liked.

He kept his head down as he stood in the short queue.

“Hot Americano, double shot, please.”

His phone chimed when he waved it over the payment terminal. He was going to regret this. He wasn’t a big coffee drinker.

“Can I get a name for that?” You looked up from the cup you scribbled on.

“JP.”

You smiled, glancing at his cap and wrote his name down. “Like Jean Pierre?”

He chuckled, only now making eye contact with you. It was a joke between him and his teammate, Kyle, or Gaz as the fans called him. You must be one of those well-meaning people pretending to not recognise him, giving him a slice of normalcy.

He always appreciated the gesture, especially the more years passed. As glamorous as life had been since F1, John discovered he wasn’t about all the glitz and glam.

He didn’t care about looking immaculate all the time, scripted speech in designer clothing or driving expensive cars. Have you seen the state of London’s streets? Everything was PR, PR, PR - like this wasn’t even his life he was living anymore. He wanted to be home on his racing simulator or get the neighbourhood takeaway in his thick hoodies without anyone shoving a camera in his face. He just wanted his old, quiet life.

You worked the coffee machine, your back to him, and his gaze wondered to the pastry display as he leaned on the counter. The cookies were massive, thick in the middle, probably chewy too. They would be perfect with his coffee.

He glanced at the line which had grown longer, and at you at the register now, scribbling another customer’s order onto a cup with a smile. It was odd that no one else was in sight to help you at the busy time.

A quick peek at his watch: he didn’t have the time to queue again. He’d just have to come back later after his business.

“Enjoy.” You flashed him a smile as you placed his order on the counter.

It didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

Sure enough, hours later after a photoshoot and an interview, caffeine still buzzed in John’s veins. He could only imagine how long he’d be up later that night, but it was worth it. At least he didn’t look like a zombie in the footage.

His mask didn’t hold off the gust of wind - cold against his cheeks as he stepped out of the building. His stomach rumbled. While pubs had started to fill up with people in work attire, the lights were still on in your shop. He crossed the street only for the sign to read ‘closed’, the last couple exiting the door.

His shoulders sagged, but he pushed the door open anyway.

You looked up from the tablet you fumbled with, your smile apologetic. “Hiya, we’re closed. Sorry.”

He glanced at the display, empty safe for two remaining cookies. He pointed at them. “Hi, so sorry to bother, but I just wanted those, please. I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

Recognition flashed in your eyes. “Oh, I remember you. Jean-Pierre.”

“It’s me.” He laughed.

You slid the bag of two cookies across the counter. “On the house.”

“No, no. You’re doing me a favour already. Have one with me at least?”

You hummed. “Why not.”

At the nearest table, he had taken his cap and mask off. You set down a mug of milk.

“You’re spoiling me.” He chuckled, taking a bite of the cookie. “Oh my god, it’s spot on,” he groaned.

You smiled. “I’m glad you like it. It took me a while to come up with the perfect recipe.”

“I’d thought about this for hours and it doesn’t disappoint, but I bet it tastes even better warm.” His gaze couldn’t help but fall to your untouched cookie.

You laughed, pushing the paperbag across the table.

“I’m sorry, this is so, so shameless.” He gave you a sheepish grin. “But it’s wonderful, really. I’ll be back. Definitely.”

“You’re very welcome to.”

“Can I place an order? For my team. Three dozens for tomorrow morning, or is that a bit last minute?”

“Yeah, no, I can do that.” You smiled. “If I may ask, what do you do, JP? Sounds like a big team.”

He frowned. “I thought you knew?”

You tilted your head. “Sorry, I don’t think you told me?”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. Heat crept up his neck from the presumption. “I work with cars.”

“Like a mechanic?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh, that’s impressive. You must have steady hands.”

“I do, I suppose.” He held your gaze for a moment. “Oh, sorry, you were about to close. I’ll just finish this-“

You waved your hand. “Do take you time. I hadn’t had the chance to sit down.”

“Busy day?”

“Very. One of my girls is sick so I worked alone today.”

“I can stay a bit, if you don’t mind.” He smiled. “Actually, would you like dinner? I’m famished. I can get something for us?”

“That sounds fantastic.”

“I saw a kebab shop a block away. Are they stingy with their chips?”

“Of course not. They wouldn’t be my favourite otherwise.”

He dashed out the door with a grin.

When John returned with dinner, you called out from the kitchen as you put away the cookie dough you’d just prepped for his order.

“I make the dough at least 12 hours ahead. That way the flavours have a chance to mingle.” You sat across him.

“Is that why they’re so good?”

You shrugged, smiling, as you unwrapped your dinner.

“I’ll be back for this too.” He nodded approvingly at the kebab, bursting at the seams with chips.

“They’ve got great food around here.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to be back.”

You chatted over the meal, about the area and its hidden gems. He was convinced he didn’t even know half of the city even after living there for many years.

“Thanks for dinner, Jean-Pierre. You can go now if you want.” You put away the wrappings. “I don’t want to bore you with all the cleaning I’m going to be doing.”

“It’s John, and I can do the dishes.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You said you were tired, and look how long I held you up.” He gestured at the dark sky outside.

You chuckled as you shook your head.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” he said over his shoulder as he sauntered to the kitchen.

You wiped down the counters and did the floor as John helped with the dishes, asking about you and your shop. While he didn’t like doing chores, doing them with you didn’t feel troublesome.

In fact, it was nice to spend some time out, not cooped up all alone in his apartment. It was refreshing to not be talking about racing or cars, to get away from it all. You laughed so heartily, so bright at his jokes. Within these four walls, maskless, he didn’t have to pretend.

He wore his mask as you locked up, but not before sliding in a few bills into the tip jar when you weren’t looking.

“So.” He turned to you, hands jammed in his pockets.

“I’m taking the bus.”

If he had his car he’d have offered to drive, but it was just as well he wasn’t driving. What if he wouldn’t want to leave?

So he walked you to the bus stop before calling a taxi for himself, back to his own reality.

While John was away for a Grand Prix weekend, between media day, qualifying and other preparations, he didn’t have the chance to be alone with his thoughts. However, as soon as he lay in his hotel bed that Sunday night, adrenaline still pumping in his blood from the race hours before, his mind drifted to you. He wondered what you were up to, if you’d thought about him since Wednesday morning when he picked up his order.

See, his problem wasn’t that he didn’t ask, but that he asked too easily and often came off too strong. He didn’t want that, especially not to you, someone the slightest bit more than an acquaintance now, a funny and pretty one at that.

But he should have asked for your number. He had so many chances to: during dinner, while walking you to the bus stop, or when he swung by the day after. You would have loved to know how everyone flocked to him when he walked into the room, oohing and aahing over your cookies.

He’d just have to wait until the next day.

Monday was his favourite day of the week because it was his day off, allowing him to not even leave his penthouse apartment if he so wished. But in the afternoon when he arrived back in London, he had somewhere else to be. On his way home from the factory, he took a detour, parking around the corner from your shop.

He wasn’t supposed to think so much about you, let alone miss you, but he did against his better judgement. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face when you greeted him as he approached the counter.

“Hiya, what can I get you?”

“I’d like to place another order for tomorrow. Everyone loved your cookies.”

“Sure.” You smiled. “You know, you could just give us a ring, yeah?”

“Right, about that. I was wondering if you fancy dinner with me tonight?”

“Oh, I’ll have to prep for the cookies-“

Behind you, a young lady at the coffee machine quipped over her shoulder with a stifled smile. “I can handle that.”

You turned and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her. “Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. I’m driving.”

When you sent him to wait at a table with a cup of hot chocolate, his smile faltered. He didn’t think this through. He was driving his Mclaren. Shephard, the boss, made up this silly clause in the contract for him and Gaz to drive their own McLaren to and from the factory. Good for PR, he said.

 He hurried outside as he dialled.

“Kate? Kate, I’m at that coffee shop.”

There was a beat. “Okay?”

“Would you please drive my GTI over?”

“Why, did your car break?” She chuckled. “A towed Mclaren isn’t a good look. Shephard won’t be impr-”

“No, I need my GTI in-“ he glanced at his watch. ”Exactly 52 minutes.”

“What? John, I’m your manager, not your errand boy.”

“Please! I’ve got no time to explain, just do it.”

“Or what?” she said dryly.

“I’ll tell your wife in Qatar there was a lighter in your coat pocket which smelled an awful lot like smoke.”

There was a pause followed by a huff. “Fine. Text me the address.”

Kate rolled up in his Golf GTI in time for your shop to close. You picked a place not too far from your flat, and he was thankful it wasn’t packed. You sat at the table in the corner and kept his cap on.

It was evident you were less tired that night, more playful with your jokes. He could listen to your laugh and look into your eyes all day. But before it was too late, much to his chagrin, you called it a night.

He pulled up at your flat. “I promise no more last-minute orders.”

“Just give us a call next time.”

“Rather call you.”

John Sloane, he typed into your phone.

You smiled, sliding your phone back in your pocket. “See you soon, John.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You held his gaze for another moment before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. His heart soared, but before he could react, you’d shut the door behind you with a supressed smile.

He grinned to himself as he drove home.

“Gaz!” Soap bellowed at the door. “Sorry am late. My alarm didnae go off.” The engineer hurried to the table to see Kyle munching happily. “Och, did ye get more cookies, Cap? I’m starvin’.”

Everyone on the team wore a cap, but Price was the only one who couldn’t be caught without one, therefore the curious nickname. That, and he often swore up a storm on team radio, like a bossy sailor. Simon, his engineer, could only remain silent witnessing the outbursts like he wasn’t even there. He earned his moniker Ghost that way.

John chuckled. “Help yourself, mate.”

He popped open the box, groaning after a bite. “Aye, that’s the one.”

“You sure you don’t want one, Ghost?” Gaz teased as he grabbed his third cookie. “You’ve been staring.”

“Alright, just one.”

“Oh, that didn’t take a lot of convincing,” Soap quipped between bites.

Ghost gave him the side eye. “Would you rather I eat the whole box, Johnny?”

Soap pouted and took his seat next to Gaz, and the team meeting for the upcoming race commenced.

As always, the crew flew out on Thursday, but this time, he had you to text. And he did, between the press conferences and briefs, or work, as he simply told you. If he was home, he would ask you out again in a heartbeat. Texting couldn’t compare to seeing that smile in real life, but it would have to do for now.

Abu Dhabi was the last race of the season. He was very much looking forward to winter break, even more so this time, because for the first time in years, he had someone to come home to. Okay, maybe that was too generous a statement. There was someone he would very much want to see, to say the least.

John landed in London Monday evening, still thrumming from his P1 win and finishing second for the season. He went straight home to switch cars before picking you up at work for dinner with a giddy smile.

He had a few days to himself before leaving for Liverpool for Christmas, which hopefully meant one more time of seeing you, if you let him, that was. But when you gave him another peck on his cheek when he opened the car door for you, he decided it was impossible to stay away from you.

I’ve missed you too much.

Ex boyfriend Price Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @keegansshark @kyletogaz @footyandformula

[aryxchse]

godly bonding day / platonic! hera x poseidon & percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : people should give more about hera and her other siblings other than z*us fr. and call me crazy or whatever but i've always thought hera married the wrong brother 🤞🏻

warnings : hera apologist right here, poseidon and hera being sweet siblings, zeus cheating, maybe swearing

"alright mom, that's it," you said, holding both of your mother's hands. "we're having a selfcare day together."

hera sniffed, looking at you with teary eyes. zeus once again cheated on your mother, and the gossip spreads around olympus very quick. specially when your mother has little spies that follows zeus' every movement.

instead of taking revenge -simply because she was sick of it-, your mother called you to olympus for cheering her mood. and well, maybe you reminded her the revenge she took from zeus.

"selfcare day?" hera asked, tilting her head. the goddess and queen of heavens was so vulnerable in front of you. and it made you think like she was a normal mother, who was crying because of her husbands betrayal. "what is that?"

"i'll call percy and we'll take you to new places in the mortal world," you said, smiling at her. the goddess sat straight, considering the idea. "who knows? maybe he'll bring poseidon!"

hera smiled at the mention of her favorite brother. "oh i love poseidon! he's the dearest to me." you nodded at her comment, caressing her knuckles. "i know mom. today is your day, we can't let a man ruin your mood, not anymore."

hera wiped away her tears as she smiled. "oh my lovely daughter, you're so kind to me."

"of course mom," you smiled. "come on, let's go."

‎ 🦚

while you waited percy to call you to say the suprise were ready, you and hera visited multiple shops and places. hera appearently loved iced americano with chocolate chip cookies. and she loved the style old money, since she had to change her clothes to more comfortable ones.

now you guys headed to some old but vintage beach, were percy and poseidon were waiting.

hera took a sip from her third iced americano, smiling at the taste. "i sure want these in olympus," she said, stopping to take off her shoes. "their taste is amazing."

you did the same as you took a sip from your own coffee, taking the shoes inside of your bag. "i know right?" you said as the smell of the salt water started to fill your nose.

you both heard percy and poseidon talk pationetly about something, but they stopped and smiled the moment they saw you.

"hey baby," percy said, hugging your waist and kissing your cheek. you hugged him back with your free arm, smiling immediatly. "hi!"

"poseidon!" hera cheered next to you, running on the sand to hug her brother. poseidon laughed and picked hera up in his arms, turning around with her. "hera, my lovely sister!" he cheered back. "good to finally see you on the mortal world!"

"thanks to my daughter," hera answered, finally standing on her foot but still not letting poseidon go. "she helped me open my eyes."

you blowed a kiss to her as you stand next to percy, your arm still lazily hanged around his neck.

"well sister!" poseidon said, turning her around to walk around the beach. "let's have some dinner eh?"

‎ 🦚

who would've thought god of the sea made the best meal?

you all eated happily together, which was a weird sight. you and percy never thought your godly side of the family would bound this much. but well, maybe they needed a little courage.

you and percy insisted on washing the dishes, letting the divine siblings have their moment. they eventually agreed, leaving you both.

you washed the plates and handed them to percy to dry, while watching your parents laugh together from the window.

"i thought hera would never smile," percy grinned, drying some plate you gave him. you washed a fork, chuckling. "that's because she has the worst husband."

poseidon picked hera up and throw her on his shoulders, running around on the beach like two little kids. some thunders appeared but the siblings didn't cared, laughing like crazy. you and percy started laughing with them behind the window, getting happier each second.

"she really needed that." you said quietly, giving the last spoon to percy. you closed the water and percy finished drying up the spoon, putting back to it's place.

"believe me, he needed that too." percy said, stading behind you and hugging your waist. you gladly appreciated the love, hugging back his arms and resting your head against his cheek.

poseidon finally put down hera but the siblings hugged eachother, hera's laughter echoing through the beach. the lightning get really loud, but the siblings made a middle finger to the sky, clearly saying 'i don't give a fuck about you!' to their most annoying brother.

you smiled. "appearently gods need to have a bonding day too." percy nodded, kissing on top of your head.

"siblings are siblings everywhere after all." he whispered, and you chuckled.

[forbebeandjam]

helllo! can I pls request smutty, angsty, fluffy college au of jealous bada x reader where bada is older than reader and reader has been chasing her for a long time but bada rejected her confession cos(of a silly reason)reader is younger than her so reader just starts hanging out w someone which makes bada jealous and finally confesses her feelings to reader. many thanks to you in advance!!

Sweet & Bitter | Bada Lee x Reader | fluff, smut, angst part 1

Summary: Bada is in love with you but hides it because of your age.

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: It’s my birthday so I’ll celebrate it by giving you guys this birthday special fic 🥳🫶 love you all

Young love...

Bada always saw this as a beautiful thing but she felt like she never experienced it. She had remained single for a long time. She was what you would call a bookworm. 

Always achieved her academic goals and reached for the stars. You admired her from afar all of your high school years and saw how bright she was shining. 

You were always head over heels for her and you always imagined being with her since you were younger. The way she treated you was so sweet and soft, you couldn't help it. You fell for her when you were fifteen and stuck with her.

Your parents were long-time friends as well so you and Bada would oftentimes be together for gatherings, parties, and much more. She also helped you study for a few months during your senior year. 

There was only one thing stopping you from being with her and it was your age. She wouldn't date you because you were too young. Bada made it clear to you when she caught you staring at her during a study session. 

"It's not like we are ten years apart. Bada, I am eighteen. You are twenty-two. Please..." but the answer was always no. Eventually, you stopped insisting and just kept her as a friend.  

Over the years, she began to study to become a lawyer and you were going to the same college as her to become a photographer and editor. With your work already going viral, you managed to get into the same school which made you even more jolly. 

Bada seemed to be happy at the idea as well. You would always bring lunch to her and eat in her small office. She would go to your dorm and you two would simply study and talk.

On the weekends, she would go to your studio and bring your favorite dessert. She would pick you up from your classes and take you for ice cream. Random gifts would appear at your doorstep and... well... you fell harder. 

You rejected countless people and dates. You would exclusively hang out with Bada and everything felt like you two were in a relationship. You were over the moon.

This continued for a year until...

Bada began to be a bit distant. When you brought lunch to her she would take a few bites only to push the food away and hop on a phone call. She stopped showing up to your dorm, studio, and classes. She wouldn't take your phone calls. She would never leave her office and you...

You fell into depression thinking you did something to upset her. Your grades started dropping. You wouldn't leave your dorm room. You spend your weekend crying in your room eating ice cream and calling her number. 

No response. Texts? She would read them and answer with 'I'm busy'

You were slipping slowly into darkness. So you decided to get up one day. Try to cheer yourself up and go get your only love, who you had disguised as your best friend, back. 

You fixed your hair and applied makeup. You picked out your best outfit with the intention of inviting her to dinner. You made a quick stop at a coffee shop and bought her daily iced americano and a heart-shaped sugar cookie. Her favorite combination.

Sweet and bitter. 

You made your way into the building and up the elevator to Bada's floor. The elevator opened and you walked down the hall. You spotted a red-haired girl looking at you with a small smirk. 

"That's a nice outfit, pretty lady. Is that coffee for me?" Aiki said, looking at you up and down. 

"Seriously, Aiki. Stop being a perv. I brought Bada her coffee. Is she in her office?" You asked.

"Ugh... Bada. Always Bada. When will you go out with me?" she said pulling on the hem of your skirt. 

"Do you want to go out with me or get me in your sheets?" You said popping your hip to the side. She stood up and stepped closer to you. 

"Why don't you find out? You might like it," She said making you roll your eyes. 

"Whatever. I'm going," you said but she pulled your arm. 

"My intentions with you are serious, Y/N. Please..." she said with a small pout. 

"I don't know... I'm sorry," you said and started to walk again. 

"Wait... don't go in there. Just one date," she said still holding onto your arms. 

"Okay. One date, but can you let me go?" you asked with a chuckle. 

"Don't go in there, please," she said with pleading eyes. 

"Aiki, you're starting to make me worry," she didn't say anything but shake her head. You pulled away and walked rapidly to Bada's office. You didn't knock and opened the door. Bada's assistant, Redlic, was sitting on her desk with Bada's lips on hers.

The coffee in your hand fell making a loud noise. Bada stopped her actions and turned to you. You already had teary eyes. She wiped her lips and Redlic looked at you with a wry smile. 

You threw the cookie at her chest and sucked up your tears. You walked back to Aiki and she stood up when she saw your teary eyes. 

"I'm sorry," she said. You hugged her tightly and she hugged you back softly patting your head. You began crying in her embrace. Bada looked at you from the door of her office and felt... jealous. 

Not a new feeling for her. She would always get jealous when your friends would go over your house or when someone would ask for your number but you never gave into any of it. So why did you run into Aiki's arms so quickly? 

Then, she realized how badly she had hurt you. The sweet dessert in her hands was now split in half and that's how your heart looked. Just like the cookie in her hands, your heart had always been in her hands and she managed to break it in half. 

She also realized how much she loved you as much as she tried to deny it. As much as she tried to push you away. 

"Y/N!" she said. Aiki glared at her and pulled you out of the room into the elevators. 

"Where are you going?" Redlic said pulling Bada. 

"Why the fuck would you pull me into a kiss like that?" Bada asked. 

"You said you wanted a reason to let her go. For her to get over you. Plus, she is not a woman. She's a little girl, Bada," Redilc replied. 

"This was a mistake. Shit" Bada said walking out of the room. 

⊹˙⋆ PART 2. ⋆˙⊹

[quibbs126]

Edit: for people who may not have known but know what I usually do, this is not fankids, this is fan parents, aka the hypothetical parents of characters. Just to clarify

Another help thing but I’m working on Americano and Fruit Punch, and while I have something for Fruit Punch down, namely that she runs a beachside juice bar, but I’m not sure what to do for Americano

If this helps, this is what Americano and Fruit Punch look like in their rough sketches

Actually you know what, I’m having a similar problem with a different fan parent request I’ve gotten (though I want to get the Soda and Energy Drink ones done first), so I might as well ask for this one here too

So the other one I’m having trouble with is parents for Cherry and Cherry Blossom. I have names, Cherry Powder and Plum Blossom, and I have stuff for Cherry Powder, namely that she’s a fireworks technician, but I’m really not sure what to do for Plum Blossom

I have designs for them as well, but Plum Blossom is open to change, I wasn’t really sure what to do for her (CP on the left, PB on the right, just in case)

[holdinbacksecrets]

uninhibited (and drunk) voicemails from seventeen

forever sending gratitude and love to j @un-love for helping assign these

seungcheol: “i watched you tonight with another man. he held your hand and kissed your forehead. he drank your tea first to check the temperature. he made you laugh. for real. i know because you covered your mouth, still feeling insecure about how far it opens when the reaction can’t be avoided—when the something said was so funny it surprised you. you’re wearing red. your arms were exposed for a while, and i felt my eyes prick with tears at the sight of more tattoos on your skin. ones i didn’t know about. maybe ones you mentioned when they were still just possibilities in your head. not once did i think i wouldn’t see them actualized. not once did i imagine another man’s fingers brushing the ink through the motion of draping his jacket around your shoulders.”

jeonghan: “i’m at home and alone, and it’s wrong to call you. it’s so unfair to call you. i didn’t know how to tell you that the wanting is scary. that the way we love each other is impossible—not for a second do i believe it’s possible to have again, and i’m fucking afraid, probably because i know how much you’ve grown. the thought of letting you down leaves a sour taste, and i’m trying not to be so fucking afraid.”

joshua: “i’m sobering up now, sitting on my mom’s back porch. earlier, i was trying to describe the color of your hair. the best i could come up with was blue frosting like the cupcakes she made for my 10th birthday party. isn’t that outrageous? embarrassing? in my head was a poem, but the alcohol released the silliest set of words i could’ve possibly used to describe a part of you.”

jun: “everything is weird. everyone is strange to me today except for you. i’m drunk. i lost my shoes at some point in the night i think. i can’t recognize anyone around me. their voices don’t sound familiar. i wish you were here. i wish you’d tell me this is miserable for you too; it’s not worth it anymore. would you tell me the truth if i asked? sorry. what a stupid question. i don’t know anyone more honest.”

soonyoung: “i should’ve watched you all day more often. i dream about that. i wanted to, but something always had my attention or interrupted its focus on you. i’m laying here with my eyes closed, imagining all the moments i did watch and wondering if every single one pieced together could consume an entire day.”

wonwoo: “is it ok that i still have your spare key? i’d like to believe it’s something you’d ask to get back, but i wonder if that call isn’t worth making. if the idea of seeing me makes you anxious. but you trust me. out of everyone to still have access to your home, it’s ok that it’s me. i feel sad thinking about it.”

jihoon: “you baked cookies. i froze half of them. there’s one left, and i’m debating whether or not to eat it today. it’s freezing outside, and any view through my window is ruined by the snow. it feels like the perfect night for a cookie with what’s left of my second americano like i can risk losing sleep, but what will be left from you if i give in? everything else feels lifeless—it’s been so long since you’ve touch the clothes and read the books.”

seokmin: “i’m going to a wedding tomorrow. your old neighbor is getting married, and i thought about so many things when he sent me the invitation. i thought he was in love with you for the longest time. remember that? it took me months to admit. then he told me he’s just protective, and i realized there are so many people who see us and care without us ever knowing. so i wondered about a what if between us… what if our paths crossing was shallow and they never intertwined? what if you were just a woman in the grocery store who i’d see once in a while if the timing was right? how long would i think about you before forgetting your face, before forgetting i ever saw you? unless i never would and end up talking about you in my old age to adult children who only know i loved their mother.”

mingyu: “is it ok to call you in the middle of the night? you told me i could. years have passed since that conversation. *laughs* is it strange to think about us back then? how we started on a park bench, basically dated for two years on a park bench. i still think about how your approach to reach me gave away your feelings. you started poised, avoiding eye contact. then it became goofy looks and confident strides before calling my name and skipping to singing the song stuck in your head while you ran to me. i can’t help but wonder what would it look like now?”

minghao: “if you listen to this voicemail, can you tell me what you want? whatever comes to mind after hearing the question. from something small to something weird and the the thing you believe is better left unsaid as if i’d judge the answer, but i won’t. i have no reason to judge you. all i have is curiosity and love and hope for your every day, every want, every touch, every song you sing, every picture you hang, and every night spent barefoot on the balcony- i want to marry you.”

seungkwan: “there’s something on my mind. i’ve wanted to tell you all day. i thought about it at breakfast and started texting you before my manager called and interrupted. so here it is: i used to not understand how tired you’d be with me around. i thought i was boring you for the longest time until i visited my sisters. they exchanged a knowing smile before telling me you’re completely comfortable, that you feel safe enough to slip into the kind of vulnerability that only sleepiness and sleep allow, with your guard lowered, and your heart open. i appreciate how much of you i’ve seen, how deeply i know you—knew you… know you? hmm…”

hansol: “are you traveling? i hope you’re traveling. i know it’s something you promised to do at the start of your 26th year. where did you go? … are you taking lots of pictures? … how does the moon look? that’s your souvenir: the moon in the sky a thousand miles away from home. when you told me the moon thing, i realized i knew nothing about you, and i wanted to know everything.”

chan: “you were in the audience tonight? i didn’t… i wasn’t… thank you for coming. i mailed a ticket, but it was returned to sender. *clears throat* you’re the only person i couldn’t shake wanting to be there. do you know what i mean? people from our pasts we wish could still be present, especially for things they witnessed in early stages. i could shake off all the other absences… old friends, a mentor, but you… *sigh* no way.”

[spidernuggets]

Anon asked: ive always had the thought that jason is an extream romantic, especially so when he was younger. I present jason seing reader and thinking she (or he or they) are the most beutiful person in the world But would he pine silently? Or do everything in his power to make them fall in love w him?

Jason Todd x Reader

"Eventually"

Dick was only supposed to take him to the cafe for a quick break. Never in a million years would he think he'd lock eyes with someone he'd want to be a part of their life with. And that's exactly what happened that day.

"Can we make this quick? l'm behind on training, Jason grumbles. Dick scoffs in response

"Calm down, we 'll be quick. Hi, yeah, I'll just get an Americano, thanks.'

"Of course," you reply. "And for you?" You ask towards Jason.

Jason's head lifts up and stares at the pretty person in front of him and suddenly he forgets how to speak.

Jason does NOT believe in love at first sight. He'd ever fully love someone romantically until he believes that both parties of the relationship have full devotion to each other.

No, he doesn't believe in love at first sight. The person standing in front of him just happens to be someone he'd like to get to know more.

"Uh.. sir?" You call out to him as Dick turns his headtowards him in confusion

Jason shakes his head. "Uhm... sorry, I'll just get an iced hazelnut coffee, I guess," he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear.

"Perfect.. I'lI call out your orders when they're ready,' you tell the two men as they nod and step to the side. Dick paid both orders with his card and put a couple of coins into the tips jar.

Once they both got their orders, they both thanked you. Jason let Dick walk away first before seeing that you had you back turned, making another order.

He didn't know what he was thinking, but he just got the urge to quickly walk to your tip jar and place two 20 bills in.

When you finished your shift and counted up your tips, you couldn't believe that someone would've placed a 40 in. Or maybe 2 people placed a 20 each? Who knows. But you were happy nonetheless

Ever since Jason first unofficially met you, he's been visiting the cafe on his own a couple of times every 2 weeks or so. Then, the visits once every week, then twice every week. Now, Jason visits the cafe every chance he gets. And he realises it may seem stalker-ish, but he's had a grasp of your roster patterns and only shows up to the cafe when you're working.

And you've noticed it, too. And so has your coworkers. After his first visit, you told one of your coworkers the next day about the cute guy you ordered one of your favourite drinks.

And when one of your other coworkers was going over security footage to see who was nicking a cookie or two from the pastry shelf, she reported to you that it was Jason who left the two 20 bills in your tip jar. And you swear you got a heart palpitation.

When you see Jason walking up to the cafe through the windows, your heart sped up, and you get excited and start making his usal hazelnut iced coffee.

When he walks to your counter, you place his drink in front of him.

"Hazelnut iced coffee?" You smile towards him as he returns the grin.

"Know me so well," he replies, taking the drink and placing a 50 in its place.

As you go get his change, he shakes his head. "Just keep the change, sweetheart," he says as your eyes widen.

"What?? No! That's like a 1000% tip!" You exclaim worringly.

And Jason laughs. "It's fine, plently more where that came from, Y/n."

Your brows pinch in confusion as you look down, remembering your nametag.

You lightly scoff and roll your eyes and shook your head. "I don't care, here," you say, handing him his change.

"Fine. How bout I use this money to take you on a date then?" He asks.

You hesitate. Sure, the guy's cute, but... you don't even know him..

"I'm busy," you impulsively say, mentally slapping yourself for the lame response.

"I never said when."

"Busy anyway, tight schedule."

"Liar, you know I'm always here when your working."

"Yeah, I know.."

"I know you know."

"Shut up," you say, and you couldn't help but smile at the small banter between the two of you.

Luckily it was a quiet day and there was no line.

"I don't even know your name," you proudly say.

"It's Jason. And fine. How 'bout," Jason takes a napkin and writes down his number. "Friends. For now. And I take you on a date."

You think for a moment before agreeing. "Eventually," you say, not wanting to be too quick into dating some guy.

"Eventually," Jason repeats.

"But!" You say. "No more massive tips. I'm not going on a date with someone who flaunts money," you condition.

He nods in response. Jason raises his coffee as a salute goodbye. "Eventually," He bids a farewell as he walks out.

"Eventually," you quietly say to yourself, excited to see how this friendship would bloom.

From your condition alone, Jason realises you'd prefer handmade or cheaper gifts rather than grand gestures or expensive offerings.

One time, during the first few weeks that he visited the cafe, he noticed a copy of Little Women behind you.

So you were somewhat into classic literature.

He prepares a little note for you in replace for the cash tip.

When he gets his drink, he pays and puts that note in your tip jar.

You take it out and read it when he leaves.

Be the Amy to my Laurie? ;) it read.

The next time Jason visited you, he placed a red rose in your jar, and this gesture definitely made you blush.

After a month or so of him olacing cute notes and small gifts in you jar, you finally accept his proposal of a date.

And soon, the two of you became an official couple. This was the point where Jason became more of a romantic than usual.

He recited poems and sonnets. Wrote love quotes from his favourite classic novels, putting it in your bag before you headed for work. He made sure you knew his love and affection he has towards you every day.

And sometimes, he'd feel a little cheeky and slip a 50 'tip' in your wallet when you're not looking.

I'm so sorry that this is probably short and lame, Anon, I had so many technical difficulties with this 😭

I based this mainly on Titans!Jason Todd, since he m seems to be more flirty and expressive than other Jason Todds I've seen.

I wasn't sure how to incorporate this into a fic, but I'd think that firstly, when he first sees you, he definitely wants to know you more, but based on his background, he doesn't wanna scare you away, so he silently pines in the background before having the courage to make a move.

I will take to my grave that he recites book quotes and poems cuz he's our little theatre nerd.

In my opinion, when Jason first sees someone, he wouldn't fall for them or anything like that. I'd think that if he hangs out with them enough, then he'd start to have a crush on them.

But when he finally realises he loves them, he loves them HARD. Like he can't imagine a life with anyone else but you.

Thanks so much for the request, Anon. Have a great day!

[staytheword]

evermore 

evermore — one shot [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!!

• hyunjin x female reader; lee know, jeongin and seungmin are featured.

• non idol au, coffee shop au (sort of), hints of soulmate au. slow burn (as much as can be in a one shot lol), mutual pining, angst, smut. — unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), sex in an (empty) public place, creampie.

• word count: 12.9k

Evermore. A café that is also a bookstore. A place where you can sit down with a book, sip delicious coffee, slip away from reality. Evermore is your favorite place. For the coffee, for the books, for Hyunjin.

• author’s note: I am very excited and nervous to share this one-shot with you. I hope I can do justice to our dear Hyunjin and that you enjoy reading it. If you can grab a warm drink and a blanket to set the mood ♡

Dedicated to @straywrds ♡ thank you for being in my life.

It was summer and you came every Tuesday. 

It was the season of iced americanos and lemonade, the sunshine reflecting on the windows and filling the place with light. People came in to grab a cold drink, maybe a cookie, and strolled back outside. They borrowed books to read under the sun or bought a few for their vacation. It was a hot and humid summer, of lazy evenings that stretched into unforgettable nights. Hyunjin liked to keep the place open later in the summer, as late as the ice cream place next door. Sometimes, after having indulged in a dessert, people liked to grab a coffee to get the taste of sugar off their tongue. 

On Tuesdays he would glance at the door just before two, waiting for you. You never failed to show up. You got your iced coffee, which you took with just a few drops of vanilla soy milk, and sat down at your favorite table, the one in the corner, close to the History section. You would spend the next two hours or so going through a book, slowly sipping your beverage, and you would determine if you wanted to buy it or not. Sometimes you did, sometimes you didn’t. Hyunjin didn’t mind. It was the whole concept of the place. 

People could read as much as they wanted as long as they bought a drink or a snack. The books were there to be read. They could be bought, but not borrowed. There were plenty of places to sit, tables and couches and armchairs. On the floor were laid large carpets furnished with cushions. There was always coffee and food available. 

Hyunjin was proud of his book café. 

He was even more proud to see you find solace in it. 

At least that’s what he assumed - why would you come every week, if it wasn’t the case? He saw how your shoulders relaxed as you read, how sometimes you briefly closed your eyes in delight after your first sip of coffee. His favorite thing, after seeing you smile, was to see your brow furrow as you read something that captivated you. Your head would fall forward, your hair brushing your cheeks, and you would completely forget the world around you. 

You didn’t notice him looking at you. 

He wasn’t stalking you. You were just one of his favorite customers. Polite, kind. Pretty. You saw him as more than just the guy with the apron selling him books and coffee. You smiled at him, asked how he was that week. Maybe you did that with everyone, but he still liked it. He would find himself giving you the cookie from the freshest batch, or brewing a new pitcher of his best coffee just before came in. He would forget to charge you extra for the vanilla soy milk. 

He was a whole cliché mess but he did not care. You brought softness to his days. Solace to the routine. He made this place for people like you. But it was even more than that. In fact, sometimes, he became convinced he created it specifically for you. Perhaps that was going too far, but Hyunjin had never been a reasonable man. He was a romantic through and through, and he did not care about the logic of things. He liked the poetry of you, composed one verse at a time each summer Tuesday. 

One week the air conditioning broke. It got hot real fast, and Hyunjin already had a layer of sweat on his skin when you came in at two o’clock. You were wearing denim shorts and a tank top. You chuckled amusingly, and said to him, quite hot today, isn’t it? He suggested coming another time because it would be uncomfortable but you didn’t care. You paid for your beverage and sat at your usual spot. You gathered your hair together and secured it with a clip - a few strands of hair stuck to the back of your neck  and Hyunjin stared at them. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and tried to focus on work. 

About half an hour later you came back to the counter and asked for an empty glass full of ice cubes. Don’t worry, you told him. I won’t get the books wet. Hyunjin trusted you - he gave you the ice cubes with a smile, licking the sweat off his lips. At first he thought you just wanted to let them melt in your mouth, but you surprised him. 

He watched as you took the ice cubes in your hands, placed them against your skin and let them melt there. Sometimes you put them on your neck, sometimes on your cheek. He was never as distracted as that afternoon, admiring the ice turn into water on your skin, sliding down your arm or your collarbone. He imagined following the trail with his finger. Or with his tongue, maybe. 

That sent a shiver up his spine. 

He had to relieve his throbbing cock in the bathroom of the café, eyes shut against the image of you panting beside him, his skin sticky and his thoughts tangled together. 

He wasn’t obsessed with you. You were just so soothing. Something about you made him want to stare for hours, a lazy smile upon his lips, appeased. 

He barely knew anything about you, which was fine. It’s not even that he wanted to know everything. Of course he liked when you told him things - he reveled in every new information you revealed, but he savored them like candy. Piece by piece, letting them melt on his tongue to a syrup, at a slow and steady rhythm. He was not interested in rushing things. From time to time you told him about you, and from time to time he told you about him. 

You were a harpist. You played with an orchestra and gave lessons at the nearby music school. On Tuesdays your last lesson ended at 1:45, which gave you the rest of the afternoon to relax. The café was your favorite place to do that. 

Hyunjin told you he opened the café a few years ago with the help of a friend. He had never much ambition except having his own place to take care of. For a long time he hesitated between a café and a bookstore, and eventually settled on a place that served as both. His only regret was to not make it a cat café - but it was never too late. Maybe in a few years, he told you once with a shy laugh. 

By all accounts, you were single. You did not have a ring around your finger, and you never mentioned a boyfriend. But maybe you were just private about it. Maybe you were casually dating. It wasn’t any of his business. 

Hyunjin was not single. He had been in his relationship for a year and thought he was in love. But you changed everything. 

That was how a heart was supposed to beat, he realized. 

That was the ecstatic rhythm of a healthy and blissful heart.  

He told himself he would break up with his girlfriend and ask you out before the end of the summer. Each week he told himself, next Tuesday. I’ll do it next Tuesday. But he never did, and time slipped through his fingers like sand. 

Summer faded away and you stopped coming.

You look up at the sign and smile to yourself. Evermore. So accurately named. You haven’t been in there in forever, it seems, and to a certain extent it has. Months. Back then it was summer and you spent a few hours there every week. Never missed a Tuesday. The doors used to be left wide open and you could smell coffee from meters away. 

Now the snow creaks under the soles of your boots and the doors are shut. It is cold today and you bury your nose in your scarf. 

It is not Tuesday, but you have nothing planned and you are dying for a warm cup of coffee and a good book. You haven’t done that in ages. You miss it. Surely, he won’t remember you. Surely, it’s been long enough for him to forget. 

You pull the handle of the door and enter the café. Immediately you smell the familiar smells, coffee and sugar and cinnamon, mellow music playing on the speakers. You wipe your boots on the carpet and head to the counter, gazing around, smiling to yourself. It’s as you remember, the floorboards creaking under your feet, the seemingly endless rows of books, the quiet noise of conversation.

Him. 

You see him, behind the counter, busy cleaning a machine. He hasn’t noticed you. He still looks the same, his thin chocolate hair grazing his ears, his apron tied around his waist. It’s the first time you see him in a sweater. It looks soft, a creamy beige color, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His wide hands are quick and agile. You swallow, trying to steady your erratic heartbeat. 

He probably doesn’t remember you. 

You have only been strangers, after all. 

The place is quiet and comforting. During summer days it was the breeze upon your cheek, and now it’s like stepping inside a warm, familiar room. It feels like you could find a fireplace in the corner, your mother’s gingerbread cookies, your favorite slippers. How can it feel so much like home if you haven’t been here in months? 

You loosen your scarf and unbutton your coat, stepping closer to the counter.

“Hi,” you say, trying not to sound too nervous. 

He turns around, meeting your eyes. They immediately sweep you off your feet, and you’re glad the cold has already reddened your cheeks, because Hyunjin looks even more celestial than before. Eyes like the deepest night sky, lips the most delicate shade of pink. They looked a little damaged, chapped, probably because of the cold, but they are still inviting. His hair is longer, tickling the collar of his sweater, but shorter strands graze his eyebrows. He looks at you like you can’t really be here - but before you can try to understand what it means, he swallows and smiles timidly at you. 

“It’s you,” he breathes. 

And you thought he wouldn’t recognize you. So much for that. Your words completely evade you, and you feel a little silly, standing there. 

“I - I haven’t seen you in so long,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his head, looking nervous. 

“I was away,” you tell him simply. “I came back just a couple of days ago.” 

“Oh,” he nods, “I see. I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” 

You smile, your nervousness fading slightly. “Thanks. I’m happy to be back. I missed this place a lot.” 

Hyunjin blushes, evading your gaze for a moment, and his reaction surprises you so much you have to do the same. You look down at your boots, at the floor, at the display of pastries to your right. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

His voice brings you back to him. You give him a nod, glancing at the menu above his head. It’s a little different than it was this summer, but it’s not much of a surprise. There are so many things you want to try. You hesitate between a few drinks, chewing on your lower lip, trying to make a choice. 

“I’ll have… Oh, God, I can’t choose,” you chuckle. 

Hyunjin’s eyes squeeze into crescents as he smiles amusingly. “I could make you an iced coffee, but it might be a little cold for that.” 

“Definitely,” you answer, smiling widely. “I’ll try the… macchiato?” 

“Coming right up.” 

You lean against the counter as Hyunjin gets to work, preparing your drink. You take the opportunity to look around some more, immersing yourself in your environment. It’s not too busy for a Thursday night, probably because of the cold. You see students working on their computers, a young man browsing books, an older woman reading one, comfortably seated on an armchair with a blanket on her legs.

On the speakers, a gentle piano melody starts to play. You close your eyes, inhaling the smells around you. You feel calm. 

When Hyunjin comes back with your drink, you reach for your wallet but he quickly holds up a palm. 

“Please. It’s on me. To welcome you back.” 

You stammer. “But -” 

“It’s my pleasure.” 

He seems so sincerely happy to offer it to you that you can only smile, giving him a grateful nod. You’re not sure what to say. You glance down at the ceramic mug, filled to the brim with caramel-colored foam, an intricate floral pattern drawn in it. It smells heavenly, and you already know it will be delicious.

“Thank you.” 

“Enjoy.” 

You wish you could stay there with him. Walk around the counter and hang there, catching up with him. You wonder what he’s been up to. How business has been. Why he looks so tired. You want to tell him how seeing him again makes you feel. Like you’ve been away from where you belong. Like you’ve never even left.

But you can’t. You don’t know him, not really. A name, a few silly details. Just bits and pieces, not even enough to be able to call him a friend. So you give him another smile, carefully take the mug in your hands, and search for a table. 

Of course, you don’t really hesitate. You sit at the same table as you did this summer. It offers a perfect view of the busy street ahead, so you can watch people walk by and try to figure out where they come from, where they are going. It also shields you just a little from view, because not a lot of people are interested in the Poetry section. The spot also allows you easy glances at the main counter, so you can watch Hyunjin work. 

So what if you have a little crush on your favorite barista? You don’t see the harm in it. Hyunjin is a handsome, charming guy. He’s your age. He has a successful business. He is kind and soft-spoken. He likes book, has a sweet tooth. He is everything you could ever wish for and convinced you can never have. After all, why would Hyunjin see you? 

But he remembers you. That much you are surprised of. You did come here once a week for a few months, and you had a few conversations, but it was nothing deep, just small talk. But back then he remembered your order and called you by your name. You wonder if he still remembers it now, like you could never forget his. 

Once you remove your coat and scarf, you take a sip of the macchiato and it makes your taste buds dance. It’s the perfect temperature, and just the right amount of spices. Is that a hint of vanilla you taste, too? It’s your favorite flavor. 

You smile to yourself, licking your lips so as to not lose even a drop, and lean back into the chair. Outside the window blows through the freshly fallen snow, twirling it into the air like small tornadoes. 

You could get yourself a book but for now, you just want to look outside and enjoy the feeling of being here. You were anxious it would be a little too different during the winter, but it isn’t. The place has a soul that leaves a permanent imprint, and it whispers Hyunjin’s name. 

Perhaps it isn’t even him. Perhaps it’s this place. You might have ended up projecting the solace it brought you on its owner, as if he is responsible for it. Because what do you know about Hyunjin, apart from a couple of disarrayed fragments? You have no idea who he really is. Perhaps you have been too eager to love. You’ve always so desperately wanted to believe in it. 

You do not love Hyunjin. You love this place and how it makes you feel. And just as you’re about to convince yourself of that, your eyes slide across the room and fall on him. He’s leaning on the counter, facing your way, gnawing on a nail. The sleeves of his sweater are a little too long, and cover most of his hands. He’s looking at you - and when he realizes you’re looking back, smiles nervously and waves. 

You do the same. 

It’s not the first time this has happened. Back during the summer, you’ve surprised his gaze in a similar fashion. But you often just thought he was looking in your general direction - you were sitting next to a large window that opened on a busy street. You never thought much of it. But sometimes it really did feel like he was looking at you. 

Like that hot summer day, when the air conditioning wasn’t working. You had been so desperately hot that day but you didn’t want to leave. Hyunjin had rolled the sleeves of his t-shirt around his shoulders and his arms looked like sculpted marble. You asked for ice cubes, a trick that you had seen your mother do a thousand times, not thinking much of it. But you had caught Hyunjin staring and thought he found you weird, so you stopped, worried you were making a fool of yourself. Luckily, if he did, he didn’t hold it against you. 

You see him now and your heart trembles.

You missed him.

Once you finish your drink and get lost in your thoughts some more, you start to feel tired. You don’t want to spend the rest of your night yawning, and you have to get up early, so you reluctantly slip your coat back on and bring your empty mug to the counter. Hyunjin thanks you with a smile. 

“How was it?” he asks, wide eyes fixed on you.

“Really good,” you nod. “Loved the hint of vanilla.” 

He nods, looking proud. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, wrapping your scarf around your neck. 

As you turn, Hyunjin’s voice stops you.

“Y/N,” he calls, softly, his voice almost quivering. 

You do your best to keep a steady smile on your lips, but inside of you, your heart feels like it’s just been squeezed tightly. Your name.

He remembers your name. 

“Will I see you on Tuesdays again?” he asks softly. 

You swallow, glancing nervously at your hands. 

“I don’t think so,” you admit. “I have lessons until late that day, starting next week.” 

Is that disappointment you see on his face? You’re not sure. You give him a timid smile, however, accompanied with a shrug. 

“I do have my Wednesdays off, though. So they might become my new Tuesday.” 

He meets your eyes, and you smile perhaps a little too widely. You can’t help it - his eyes are shimmering, his cheeks a soft pink. 

“I’ll see you next Wednesday, then.” 

You allow yourself to drift off in his eyes, just for a second. “See you then.”

It is winter and you come every Wednesday. 

Ever since that night you order the same drink. A strong macchiato with steamed vanilla soy milk. The one he created specifically for you. 

He would probably lie if you asked him, but he did.

You fall in love with his cranberry scones so Hyunjin makes sure they are fresh out of the oven when you pass the door. He discovers your collection of sweaters - his favorite is the color of apricots, the one you pair with golden earrings. He learns that an old friend knitted your scarf back when you were in high school and you wear it every winter since. That your boots are new because the soles of the previous ones were ruined from an evening of intense chewing by your mother’s dog. 

That the reason you disappeared was nothing tragic. You got a provisional contract to play for an orchestra across the country, replacing someone on maternity leave. It was just a few weeks but you stayed for longer, enjoying the time away. 

You needed to clear your mind and see the world, you tell him one Wednesday night. He is sorting books in the aisles when you appear, in search of a new one to read. You start to chat, and he loves the way you lean against the shelves, your arms behind your back, your colored lips telling stories about what you saw. You had a good time there but you missed home, you say. 

Hyunjin could listen to you for hours. 

Your nails are painted the color of cream and your perfume has hints of vanilla. He thought it was bad this summer but this is worse. He can’t stop thinking about you. He wonders what your kitchen looks like, what kind of art you have on your walls. How your hair looks sprayed upon your pillow, if your cheeks are puffed up in the morning. He wants to make you your favorite espresso so it’s the first thing you smell when you wake up, and then perhaps make you come with his tongue. 

He keeps hearing your voice pronouncing his name. He keeps seeing you wrap your scarf around your slender neck. He keeps smelling vanilla everywhere he goes. 

He should probably do something. Ask you out, or at least find a way to discover if you are single. He is, after all. Broke up with his girlfriend after you didn’t come back for a couple of weeks. He couldn’t stand to see her anymore. He didn’t have you, he didn’t want anyone. 

A part of him expects you to show up with someone one day, holding their hand, smiling lovingly at them while waiting for your drinks. He should ask. That’s what anyone would do, after all. He should express his feelings, or find a way to exorcize them out of his body. 

But Hyunjin likes it the way it is. He likes the romance, he thrills on the longing. He likes that time slows down. That he gets a glimpse of you every Wednesday, the colors of winter passing upon your cheeks, and that you remain a mystery. At the same time he feels like he deeply knows you, beyond usual bonds, that you connect on an intangible level. Both a stranger and a soulmate. He’s probably delusional - but he’d rather be a romantic than a realist. 

Today is Saturday and Hyunjin can’t stop thinking about the black turtleneck you wore a few days ago. You had your hair in a ponytail, the tight collar hugging your neck so well. You bought a book saying it was a gift for someone, but you didn’t say who. For family, perhaps? You didn’t say. He didn’t ask. 

The door of the Evermore opens and lets in a gust of wind. He looks up, just curious to see what kind of client is coming in, and his heart stops. It’s you. 

On a Saturday. 

And you are not alone. 

He knew the day would come. He knew it would happen. The day you’d come through the door with someone. Yet he wasn’t prepared for the blow. It’s like someone’s just punched him in the stomach, knocked the air out. 

You look pretty. You’re wearing a little more makeup than usual and your long wool coat hangs open. It’s warm outside today because of the bright sun, so that might be why. You’re smiling broadly, in the middle of laughing, looking back at your friend. He’s telling you something, a mischievous smirk curving his lips, closing the door behind him. He has dark hair and beautiful doe eyes. 

You chuckle to what he says, heading towards the counter, and Hyunjin straightens his back. It’s okay, he tells himself. Of course you have a life outside this place. Of course you have a life outside of him. You are not a fantasy. You are a person. 

“Hey, Hyunjin,” you say, walking up to him. 

Your eyes are full of light and Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat. “Hey. Fancy seeing you here on a Saturday.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’re going ice skating in the park and so, in dire need of caffeine. I told Minho he had to taste that macchiato of yours.” 

Minho. The guy behind you gives Hyunjin a kind smile. He nods back, unable to really understand how he’s feeling right now. All he wants to do is ask. Who is he? Your brother? Your friend? Your date? Your boyfriend? 

What makes you think I want him to taste the drink I made for you? 

“She kept insisting it was the most delicious hot drink she ever had, so…” Minho says with a chuckle. 

He looks at you with some kind of affection but Hyunjin is unable to identify which kind. He keeps smiling, he keeps breathing. In a way it’s even more fascinating to see you interact with someone you know. What does this guy know about you, Hyunjin wonders? What parts of yourself do you share with him? 

“Two macchiatos, then,” Hyunjin nods. “I’ll get that ready for you.” 

“Thank you,” you say, searching your bag. 

Minho shakes his head, already handing Hyunjin his card. “Please. It’s my treat.” 

“Oh, thank you.” 

He looks down at you and smiles, and your cheeks get pink. Whoever he is, you’re not used to his presence. Hyunjin watches you interact with him as he prepares the drinks. From the way Minho interacts with you, Hyunjin can safely conclude he’s flirting. It doesn’t look like you know each other well, though, from the information you seem to give him. If this isn’t your first date, it’s either the second or the third. 

Hyunjin will give him that - Minho listens to you. He seems interested, both in what you look like and what you have to say. Hyunjin might have expected jealousy to blossom in his heart, but he can barely feel its claws. He’s curious. He’s happy for you. You deserve to be taken care of. He doesn’t want to hate the guy, especially not if you like him, if he makes you smile. 

Of course he wishes it was him. He would ice skate with you for hours, holding your hand. He would kiss your cold cheeks and make you hot chocolate afterwards. But he’s not in your life like that. 

Still, he doesn’t put vanilla soy milk in the guy’s macchiato. That’s just for you.

“Here you go,” Hyunjin tells you, handing you the drinks when he is done. “Have a good time.” 

“Thanks. I’ll see you Wednesday?” 

“I’ll be here.”  You smile at him one last time, and Minho does the same, politely. Once you’re back outside, Hyunjin watches you walk away until you disappear around a corner. Out of sight. Out of reach.

Minho walked you home that night. After you went ice skating you ate at a delicious Italian restaurant. You had a glass of wine and he paid for the meal. You offered him to come up for a nightcap, and after you talked for a while on your couch, he kissed you. His lips were soft, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek. He was an excellent kisser, and a part of you really wanted to take him to bed. 

You’re not sure why you hesitated - but Minho sensed it and did not even ask. He just kissed you again and whispered goodnight. The sudden dread of being alone caught you, and you suggested he stayed, but he smiled at you and shook his head. I should get home. You didn’t insist. 

Once you laid on bed and pushed your fingers inside you, relieving your aching folds, it was not him you thought about. It was a boy with tranquil eyes and inviting lips. A boy whose fingers you pictured on your skin, whose smile you imagined against your wetness. You wondered what he would sound like. Would he just breathe in your neck, or maybe whisper sinful words? What would his voice sound like, roughened up, muffled against your lips? You come to the thought of his arms around you, lean muscles holding you close.

It barely feels enough. You feel on edge up all the way to Wednesday. That morning, as you do on Wednesdays, you wake up with a smile on your face. 

A thick layer of heavy, crunchy snow has fallen during the night. It’s perfect for making snowmen, sliding, and crafting snow forts, and so all afternoon you spy people gearing up for skiing and other winter activities. It’s not too cold either, and there is barely any wind - the ideal weather for long walks to admire the snow lounging on tree branches. Your own eyes have wandered on them all day, and you barely got anything done. 

The Café is extremely busy all afternoon, people coming in and out for hot chocolates and coffees to go. Hyunjin and his co-worker, a journalism student called Jeongin, are overwhelmed, barely able to stop for a few breaks. You watch them warily, wishing you could lend a hand, but you are sure Hyunjin will say no. 

Now, it’s nearly five and things have slowed down. People are busy preparing and eating dinner, but they’ll come back - the nearby restaurants are packed and you just know all of them will want a delicious coffee to finish their meal. You should get going. You should get home, get your things in order. Keep living your life. Call your mother, fold the laundry, and plan another date with Minho. But your heart wants none of those things. You just feel like lingering here a little longer. 

You stand up, walking lazily around the book tables near the counter, pretending like you’re reading the back cover of a mystery book. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin are talking in hushed tones, but from this distance you can make out what they are saying. 

“I’m sorry, Hyun,” Jeongin says. “I wish I could stay, but I have a midterm tomorrow, and...”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “School is more important. Go. I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? It’ll be busy tonight.” 

“I’ll manage. Go study.” 

Jeongin thanks Hyunjin profusely, removing his apron and grabbing his coat. In a matter of seconds he leaves the café, and Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh. His long fingers slide through his tousled hair, his eyes a little puffy from exhaustion. Today he wears a white button-up, the collar a little crooked. Underneath it you spy a delicate silver chain. 

When he meets your gaze you smile kindly at him, putting down the book. 

“Busy day,” you say, hoping he notices the concern in your eyes. 

He chuckles, clacking his tongue against his palate. “You said it. Crazy.” 

“Do you have someone else coming in?” you can’t help but ask. 

Hyunjin gives you a curious look and you shrug, blushing a little bit. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear.” 

“Ah,” he smiles briefly. “Yeah, no. It’ll be just me tonight.” 

He tries to sound optimistic, you can hear it in his voice - but there’s that slight tone of defeat, or maybe just apprehension. You hesitate, biting your lower lip. You have nothing to lose by suggesting it to him. It’s not like you have anything planned. And this place has done so much for you - he has done so much. It’s the least you can do. So you take a few steps towards him, placing your hands on the counter. 

“Hyunjin,” you say softly, tasting his name on your lips. 

You don’t think you’ve ever said it much - but it feels nice. Better than nice, really. You like it. Hyunjin. Like a melody you were born to sing. He looks up at you with wide eyes, his ears a little red. 

“Let me help you, please?” you say. 

He opens his mouth with a frown and you hold a hand up. 

“I don’t have anything else to do,” you quickly add, “and you don’t have to pay me. I’m no good at making coffee, but I can work the register. Just show me the ropes and I can do it.” 

“Y/N, I can’t accept, this is -” 

“You can only say no if you don’t trust me with it,” you interrupt him again with the kindest smile you can muster. “Which would be fine. But that’s the only reason I’ll accept.” 

He closes his mouth and gives you a long look. You raise your eyebrows. A few clients walk into the café, chatting loudly about their plans for skiing later. In no time the place will be packed again, you are sure of it. So is Hyunjin, who knows his business better than anyone. He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, and smiles at you. 

“All right,” he says. “But it’s just because I really need help. And the second you get tired I want you to stop, yeah?” 

“Promise.” 

“Come around the counter, then,” he grins. 

Your heartbeat accelerates, and you tell yourself it’s because of the situation, not because of him or the way he smiles at you with constellations in his eyes. You get your things from your table, securing them in the back, and Hyunjin hands you an apron. He shows you how the register works as the recent clients make their order. It’s odd to stand so close to him, his body warmth mingling with yours. You can smell hints of his shampoo and his hand grazes against yours as he walks you through the steps. The register system is simple so you get a hold of it quickly, which is a good thing, because Hyunjin has to make the drinks, and there are more people coming in. 

You don’t have much time to think in the next hours, serving clients and helping Hyunjin with what you can. You glance at him from time to time, watching his body move with ease. He knows exactly where to stand, how many steps to take. It’s like a dance, a waltz of foamed milk and carefully dusted spices. Soon the almond scones and chocolate cookies get sold out, the dishes pile up in the sink, and the rush slows down. The café closes, and you feel both exhausted and exhilarated. Your legs are wobbly and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you don’t mind. As Hyunjin closes the register, you get behind the sink to do the dishes, making sure the ceramic mugs and metallic cutlery are thoroughly clean. 

You’re so focused on your task you don’t hear the last client leaving. Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, resting against the counter with a smile. 

“All locked up. We did it.” 

You smile broadly at him, feeling a rush of pride. He looks at you attentively in return, a smirk curving his lips. The last few hours have gotten you used to being so close to him, but he still makes your heart jolt. 

“Here,” he says, handing you a macaron - espresso flavored, your favorite. 

You chuckle, showing him your gloved hands, covered in water and foam from the dishes. 

“Just put it there, I’ll…” 

“Don’t move.” 

You freeze as he takes a step closer. He guides the macaron to your lips, looking at them attentively, and you slowly part them. You bite into the macaron, your eyes planted in Hyunjin’s, in awe of the shape and depth of them. He’s beautiful, is all you can think. 

Hyunjin gently pushes the macaron in your mouth, and the tip of his finger brushes your lips. You have to make a conscious effort not to sigh at the touch, and instead focus on the delicious flavors on your tongue. You smile, fully aware, however, that your cheeks must be a bright red. 

Almost as red as the ears poking out from between his hair. 

“It’s delicious,” you say once you finish the macaron.

Hyunjin smiles, although he’s no longer looking you in the eye. He’s staring at your lips. “I know it’s your favorite.” 

“You have a good memory.” 

“I guess it’s a good quality to have for what I do,” he nods. 

Hyunjin grabs a tea towel to dry the dishes and you continue to talk, the tension slowly dissipating. You focus on the conversation, exchanging thoughts about careers and winter, meals and music. Hyunjin makes you laugh, makes you forget the exhaustion, makes you remember what it’s like to be heard. When you finish the dishes, Hyunjin disappears in the back. You remove your apron, fold it and put it on the counter - and you walk towards the nearest window, staring out at the winter night. 

It’s started snowing again. The snowflakes are big, powdery, falling on the ground as if in slow motion. There’s a full moon in the sky. You stare at the tranquil scene, your heart both serene and febrile. You don’t want to go home. 

You got a text from Minho earlier. He asked if you were free that weekend. You get your phone out of your pocket, telling yourself you need to answer him. You like him. He’s a nice guy, attentive and charming. The two dates you had were fun, casual. He didn’t pressure you. You met him through friends, and he’s been nothing but kind. But something is missing. A heartbeat. A flame. A truth, maybe. You’re not sure. 

You stare down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. 

“Want a drink?” 

You spin to see Hyunjin standing a few steps behind you, holding a bottle of red wine. He’s smiling, his head slightly tilted to the right. He removed his apron, and it’s the first time you see him without it. His white button-up is only half tucked into his jeans, which hang around a slim waist, secured by a simple leather belt.  

“You have wine here?” you say with an amused smile.

He chuckles, looking down at the bottle to read the label. 

“My mother gave it to me when I celebrated the five-year opening of the café. I never opened it. Thought this would be a good time. We deserve it after the evening we just had.” He considers you, his smile charming. “No pressure, though.” 

You shake your head. “I’d love to.” 

You get comfortable in a cozy corner of the book café, away from the windows, sitting down on a lush carpet, leaning on fluffy cushions and pillows. You both remove your shoes and when you tell Hyunjin you’re a little cold, he hands you a blanket that you wrap around your shoulders. 

Hyunjin opens the bottle and fills two ceramic mugs, handing you one. You toast to your successful evening, keeping your eyes on each other as you drink. The wine is thick and tastes like cherry and flowers. 

“Thank you for helping me,” he says. “It means a lot.” 

“Of course. It was fun. Reminded me of my college days.” 

Hyunjin pulls his knees to him, leans his head against the wall, studying you. He looks tired, but calm. 

“How’s that?” 

You bite your lip, trying not to smile too widely. “I was a barista for a while to pay my tuition fees.” 

Hyunjin gasps. “Really?” 

“I was…” You chuckle, looking down at your wine. “I was very bad at it.” 

Hyunjin’s laugh echoes through the room. It’s so loud, so undisciplined - thoroughly enchanting. You wish it filled your mug instead of the wine. You laugh with him, hiding your face in your hands. 

“I didn’t want to tell you that earlier so you didn’t panic, but… it’s probably a really good thing I didn’t touch the coffee.” 

You take a sip of wine, still giggling as Hyunjin laughs again. 

“And I trusted you,” he says dramatically, shaking his head at you. 

“Why do you think I come here all the time?” you retort. “I cannot make my own coffee, Hyunjin, that’s why.” 

His smile occupies half of his face, his shirt a little too big for him. You feel a strange longing. How can you, for someone you barely know? But you do. 

He points a finger at you. “Making coffee is a skill. It’s something you learn. I’ll teach you.” 

“What if I’m a lost cause?” 

“That’s all right,” he nods solemnly. “We all need to be bad at something.” 

You laugh, and before you know it your mugs are empty. As the conversation flows, you get tipsy on the wine, emptying the bottle to the last drop. You and Hyunjin talk about everything and nothing. He shows you the trailer for a movie he’s excited to see, and you make him listen to a song. After you forget to press pause and your phone just keeps playing music in the background. 

You talk about your lives, your exes, your dreams. But it’s strange, it’s like the outside world doesn’t truly belong here. The Evermore is its own world and you feel more at home in it than you ever did anywhere else. You had a little too much wine, so when you try to explain the feeling to Hyunjin, you fail miserably. 

“It’s true, Hyunjin,” you tell him with pleading eyes. “This place… it has something special.” 

He watches you, almost - tenderly? 

“It’s only because of people like you,” he says softly. “You make it live.” 

“But it’s not just that,” you whisper, ignoring the sudden acceleration of your heartbeat. “It’s… fuck, I can’t find the words.” 

You sigh exasperatedly, and then hold up a finger. A smile creeps upon your lips. 

“Hold on. I have an idea.” 

You carefully set your mug down, standing up on shaky legs. The world tilts slightly, but you keep your balance and extend your hand towards Hyunjin. He looks at you for a few seconds but eventually slides his palm in yours. You help him up, and you keep your hands interlocked as you lead him towards the bookshelves. 

You know exactly what you are looking for. You go towards the end of the Fiction section, squeezed between two aisles and the wall, and let go of Hyunjin. He stays close to you as you slide your fingers on the book’s bindings, searching for a title. Despite your state, you find it quickly and pull the book off the shelf. 

“Here,” you breathe, opening the book to search for the words you are looking for. 

You are focused and you don’t notice Hyunjin’s eyes fixed upon you. You flip through the pages, and after a minute, you put your index above a few lines of text. 

“This. This is what it is.” 

You lift your eyes and meet his. He is studying you closely, his eyes a profound shade of brown, his mouth parted. You almost entirely forget about the book. Hyunjin’s lips are stained cranberry red by the wine. 

He draws a sharp breath. 

“Read it to me.” 

His voice is hoarse. You lick your lips, taste the wine. You wish they tasted like something else. You swallow, advert your eyes, and start to read. The words drip from your mouth, and you’re not sure you’re reading them correctly because it’s like you can’t hear your own voice. Your heartbeat is too loud, pounding in your chest and resonating against your temples. 

When you’re done, you look up at Hyunjin again, who has not moved. After a second of silence, he shakes his head. You open your mouth, convinced he’s going to say you’re not making any sense. 

Hyunjin stops you with a kiss. 

His lips sweep yours, plucking them like a fruit. You gasp in surprise but Hyunjin only deepens the kiss, pressing his plump lips against yours, eager, ravenous. It’s like the world has stopped spinning, or perhaps it is only spinning faster, so fast you can’t see it. The book slips from between your fingers and falls on the ground with a faint thump, but you barely notice it. Your hands grab Hyunjin’s shirt, pulling him towards your body, kissing him back feverishly. 

His mouth embraces yours, his kisses ardent as he pushes you against the bookshelf, one of his hands on the small of your back, his fingers slightly digging into your skin. His other hand is in your hair, tousling your hair, sending blissful shivers throughout your body. He gasps for air, drinking you in, and you sigh from his absence. When his lips take yours once more, you graze them with your teeth, eliciting a muffled groan from him. He bucks his hips against you, like there aren’t any layers of clothes separating your skin, like he’s already deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

It’s alluring, it’s sinful. You’re dizzy and entranced, and you just want to rip his clothes off, witness his body, and let him ravish you. 

You shouldn’t. This is rushed, this is irresponsible. You should think things through, you should exert self-control. 

But you don’t. 

You bite his lip harder, and he stammers a moan inside your mouth. His fingers grip your waist harder, pushing hard in your skin. You roll your hips against him, panting against his mouth, feeling his hardening cock inside his jeans. 

“Hyunjin…” you whisper. 

“Fuck, this can’t be real,” he breathes, grabbing your face with both of his hands, his fingers desperately holding on to you.

His tongue slithers around yours, febrile. The sensation of his saliva blending with yours sends shockwaves all the way down to between your legs, and you have to squeeze your thighs together. You can feel it, you’re both too drunk to be able to make it last, to do it like you’d like to, to be reasonable about it. You can’t care about that right now. 

With nervous fingers, and between sloppy kisses, you unbutton each other’s jeans. He lowers yours, taking a long look at your panties, as you free his cock, stroking it in your palm. He throbs around your hand, leaking pre-cum. You push your underwear aside, your cunt a soaked mess, and help him align himself with your entrance. 

“Are you sure -” 

“Please,” you sigh. 

He buries himself inside of you, his cock stretching your walls. You let out a loud moan and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. Hyunjin breathes heavily in your neck, his lips feeling hot against your skin. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe I’m fucking you.” 

“Don’t stop, Hyunjin, please…” 

“Never.” 

He nearly removes himself from you, only to thrust his hips deeper. You whimper, holding his body close to yours. He starts to pound into you, almost frantically, but keeping his pelvis in perfect control so that his cock hits the right spots inside of you. Your pleasure builds so quickly you clench around him more tightly with every move, and Hyunjin cries out in your ear. 

As you feel yourself drift into your orgasm, your eyes roll back and you grip Hyunjin’s hair. You whimper his name as your body relinquishes control, and as you come around him, Hyunjin lets out a deep grunt and empties himself inside of you. You feel the thick spurts of his seed, you feel his body twitch, you feel his lips trembling. 

You breathe out, sweaty and shuddering against him. Hyunjin places a soft kiss on your collarbone and you shiver. It’s almost like you could blink and realize none of this has happened, that you have read the passage from the book and looked at him wishing he would kiss you. 

But this is real. This happened. 

You don’t know whether to tense or relax, so you stay frozen in place. You both stay like that, just breathing, giving time for reality to go back on its feet. Hyunjin leans back, his lips now a bright red. 

“Fuck. Sorry,” he mutters. “I made a mess.” 

“It’s all right,” you tell him softly. 

You keep your voices low like someone could hear you. Hyunjin steps back, watching as his cum slides down your inner thigh. He blushes violently, and you open your mouth to reassure him - but suddenly you have no idea what to say. 

“I’ll get you a towel. Hold on.” 

He puts his cock back inside his boxers and walks away, zipping up his jeans. You stay like that, feeling silly and cold. What the fuck just happened? You know what happened. You and Hyunjin just fucked like horny teenagers in a corner of the book café - no conversation, no protection. You’re not that worried about the latter part, you take the pill and you’ll get the necessary precautions, but it’s the fact that you have no idea what it means. Where it came from. It was so sudden, so passionate, so intense. Not that you need to define sex before you have it like it’s a contract with clauses, but it happened so quickly you’re dizzy and feel a little sick. 

You are drunk. That explains things. 

You are drunk and so attracted to Hyunjin he must have felt it. Not that he took advantage of you. But did he like you? Or was it just a spur of the moment thing? What did he say again? This can’t be real. Your mind spins into nothingness, your thoughts a tangled mess. 

Hyunjin reappears with a towel he soaked in warm water, and he hands it to you. You thank him with a smile, and seeing your hesitation, he steps away as you clean yourself up. Once your jeans are buttoned again, you tap his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” 

He looks more beautiful than ever, but you can’t look at him.

He can’t look at you. 

Fuck. 

“I should head home,” you whisper. 

Hyunjin nods, his face hidden behind strands of ruffled hair. Hair the color of carefully made coffee. His eyes, too. Only his lips are the color of the sweetest cherries. 

“Of course, yeah. I should - I should do the same, yeah.” 

You both gather your things in silence, the tension almost unbearable. You feel like crying, and you know you should say something before it is too late, but you can’t gather the words, you can’t put them in the right order, and then you’re standing next to the door and you have to say goodbye. 

“Goodnight,” you say.

You gather the courage to look at him, but he’s not looking at you. He’s staring at his hands, at his shoes, at the floor. Anything but you. 

“Goodnight,” he answers. 

You step outside. The day has grown terribly, terribly cold.

The café will be closed today. Hyunjin made his decision hours ago. If anyone asks, it is for personal reasons. He does not want to see anyone today. 

It’s a boyish reaction but he does not care. 

He barely got any sleep, turning in his bed staring at the snow outside his window. He keeps wondering how you feel. What you think. If you got some sleep, or if you were like him, ripped open at the seams, waiting for a coup de grâce that would not come. When daylight starts to seep through his curtains, Hyunjin texts his employees, takes a long shower, and dresses in a large wool sweater and brown corduroy pants. 

He still goes to the café because there is no other place he can go. But he takes a piece of paper, writes a few words on it and places it on the front door. Closed exceptionally for today. 

Once that is done, Hyunjin lets out a long, shaky sigh and looks at the café. He opened this place more than five years ago and has worked nearly everyday in it since, but today it feels like an unfamiliar place. The walls, the chairs, the books, they all stare back at him. 

His legs take him to the Fiction aisle. It looks as it always does, and yet it’s thoroughly changed. On the ground is a book. Hyunjin picks it up with trembling hands. It’s fallen crooked, and some of the pages are creased. He presses his fingers on them, trying to flatten them out; but they are forever marked. 

As he is. 

Hyunjin breathes out. He wishes he could remember the passage you read to him. He looks through the book for a few minutes but he cannot, for the life of him, recall what the words were. Idiot. 

He closes his eyes. He still hears you breathe, how your voice slightly changed as you got tipsy. He sees the texture of your mint green blouse. Your smile as you took the clients’ orders. He feels your soft skin against his. Your cunt tightening around his cock. Fuck, you came so well. So fiercely. You looked so beautiful doing it, your eyes squinted shut, your lips deliciously parted, begging to be kissed. Hyunjin regrets. And yet he can’t. 

He should’ve been more in control. He should have taken the time to tell you what he wants, what he thinks of you. He nearly did, when he gave you the macaron and couldn’t take his eyes off your lips. But he had hesitated, overwhelmed by the past hours in such sudden close proximity with you. And then, when he didn’t hesitate, you kissed him back so eagerly and your body responded to his like you had been waiting for this too. Did you feel it, as he thrust into you, how much he wanted you? How captivating he thought you were, how you occupied his mind, how you were all he saw in this goddamn place and everywhere? 

Hyunjin slowly sits on the floor, his back to the wall, the book pressed against his chest. 

It was the wine. It was the exhaustion. It made him forget that he wanted, if he ever got the honor to touch you, to make it slow. He wanted to take you somewhere warm and comfortable, to undress you, to worship all the parts of you, to make you come around his mouth, to be both chaste and lewd, to see your smile, to hear you gasp. Instead it had been rushed, messy, and inevitably awkward. 

He felt you come. He is sure of it. But what if you didn’t like it? What if the awkwardness turned sour? What if you started to hate him for what happened? What if you never came back here again? That would be the worst of all. 

He knows what he should have said. Not people like you, but you. You made this place alive. 

Hyunjin breathes out, opens the book in his hands, and starts reading. 

He reads it again the next day.

And again the day after that.

You’re standing in the middle of a snow storm. 

It is not Wednesday and it is well past opening hours. Still, foolishly, you stare at the front door of the Evermore, as if you are expecting it to open. 

You stand there for a few minutes before you shake your head, letting out a shaky, bitter laugh. What are you waiting for? Why are you here? It’s late. It’s cold. The wind whistles in your ears and the snow will bury you if you do not move. You need to go home. 

You turn on your heels and stare up at the night sky. It isn’t dark, but rather a strange sort of milky, off white. A few snowflakes hit your eyes and you blink. You sit down on the pavement, letting your eyes fill with tears. 

It’s Wednesday night and you didn’t go to the café this afternoon. Instead you paced your apartment wondering if you should go. In the end you didn’t, terrified of what you might find in Hyunjin’s eyes. You regret it. At least you would have known. Now you can just sit here with an empty chest, wondering if he waited for you, wondering if he missed you, wondering if you ruined everything. 

Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you try harder?

You shake your head, letting your head fall in your hands. You’re so cold. You forgot to put on a hat and gloves. Your fingers and your ears are bright red. They are slowly freezing. Your heart, too. 

“Y/N?” 

You lift your head at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. For a second you stare at the dark, wondering if you just imagined him calling your name. But then you turn your head and see him there, in the café, holding the door open. He seems as shocked to see you as you do him. 

“What are you doing here?” you breathe.

You’re sure he won’t hear you above the whistles of the wind, but he does.  

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Hyunjin frowns and waves towards the inside of the café. 

“Come in. You’re going to freeze to death.” 

You’re not sure it’s a good idea, and half of you is still wondering if he’s really there, but you stand up and follow him. He doesn’t comment on your visible tears, or your messy hair. He just closes the door behind you. It’s suddenly so silent. 

“It’s so late, Y/N, what are…” 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, your voice quivering.

Hyunjin looks up at you with wide eyes. There are barely any lights open in the cafe, but the full moon outside is enough for you to see him well. 

“It’s Wednesday,” you say. “I wanted to come but I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want to see me.” 

Hyunjin clenches his jaw, shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because…” You hesitate. “Because of what happened.” 

He looks up at you, prudently, and you stare into his eyes, trying to find an answer in them. He makes it difficult, or maybe it’s just your fear blurring the lines for you. Your lips are trembling, and as your fingers slowly warm up, they burn. 

“You’re shivering,” Hyunijn winces. “Let’s warm you up first. Take off your coat.” 

You nod, following him into the café, away from the cold windows. You leave your coat and boots near the entrance, and Hyunjin hands you a blanket to wrap yourself in. He disappears behind the counter, pouring water in a kettle, and you snuggle on an armchair. Hyunjin keeps his back to you as he prepares a cup of tea, only reappearing a few minutes later.

“Careful,” he warns you softly, settling the steaming mug on the table next to you. “Don’t burn your tongue.” 

“Thanks.” 

He turns away from you, and on an impulse, you grab the hem of his shirt. It’s a striped sweater vest, beige and navy, worn above a tight long-sleeve, and it feels soft against your fingers. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. “Can we talk?” 

He looks down at your hand. It takes a few seconds, but he smiles. 

“Of course we can. Just give me a second.” 

You nod, letting him go. He disappears for another minute - when he comes back, he’s holding a mug for himself and a lit candle. He puts it close to you. It smells like pinewood, and makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of a forest. 

“I was reading,” he says, sitting down on a chair in front of you. “That’s what I was doing. I lost track of time, it seems.” 

You nod timidly. “I know what that’s like.” 

A sinking feeling settles in your stomach again. You can’t look at each other. You tell yourself it’s your only chance - you have to know where Hyunjin stands. So you take a deep breath and look up. 

As if he read your mind, he looks up too. 

Your eyes meet. They stay there. 

“I wanted you to,” he says softly. “Of course I wanted you to come.” 

Your heart contracts in your chest. 

“When you didn’t, I… I thought…” He stumbles on his words. “All I mean is, it’s okay if the other night didn’t mean anything for you.”

It’s sudden, and Hyunjin himself seems surprised by the words that just escaped his mouth, as his eyes slightly widen in panic. 

“What I mean is -” 

“It does,” you interrupt him.

He frowns, and you take a deep breath. 

“It does mean something,” you explain, doing your best to hold up his gaze. “I don’t know what exactly, but it does mean something.” 

You stare at him. 

“You just confuse me. Because I feel… all those things, and they’re so strong, and I feel… I don’t even know,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You notice that his hands are grabbing the handles of the armchair tightly. His next words are measured, careful. 

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Can I please have a second chance?” 

It is so silent around you that you can hear your own heart beating. You can hear Hyunjin breathing. It’s a sweet, gentle sound. 

“Let me make it right,” he breathes, springing up from his seat to kneel next to you. 

He looks at you with wide, shimmering eyes. His beautiful lips are searching for the right words, with no avail. You extend a shivering hand, cupping his cheek nervously. He leans against it. 

“I’ve been craving you all week,” you whisper.

He opens his eyes, and you move from your position to kneel on the carpet next to him, the blanket forgotten behind you. You are not as cold anymore, your body warming in anticipation and desire. 

Your fingers trace Hyunijn’s jaw line, and he gently takes your face in his hands, caressing your skin. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, closing your eyes as he leans in. 

It’s an entirely different kiss. It’s careful, delicate. You drift against him, falling in his arms - but your movements are slow, deliberate. He deepens the kiss as you tilt your head to the right, exploring the plumpness of his lips. You stay like that for an immeasurable amount of time, kissing and softly embracing each other, until you are out of breath and your lips feel raw. Then Hyunjin, putting a gentle hand against your neck, leans it backwards and starts to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw. His tongue swirls against the skin of your neck, all the way to your collarbones, and you arch against his caresses. 

You undress each other slowly. You take in the sight of his chiseled chest and smooth skin, which almost seems to glow in the light of the candle.  He spends a long time kissing your breasts, brushing his nose against your skin. You let out soft whimpers, your fingers tangling his chocolate hair, teasing his ears, stroking his neck. 

“Your skin is so cold,” he breathes, placing kisses against your arms, your fingers. 

His hands, sprawled on your stomach and hips, feel so incredibly warm. 

“I don’t feel cold,” you tell him with a smile. 

He smiles back, moving back on top of you to kiss you. You take the opportunity to unbutton his jeans and push them down, cupping his already hard cock in your hand. Hyunjin twitches slightly, letting out a nervous laugh against your mouth. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You’re just… You make me go crazy, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

“So are you, Hyunjin,” you say, placing kisses on his lower lip, on his neck, on his shoulder. “When I’m here I can’t stop looking at you. When I’m not I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Fuck, right back at you,” he laughs, opening his eyes to look at you. 

He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, smiling tenderly.

“You never noticed?” he asks you. “Me staring at you?” 

You shrug, playing with his hair. He looks so handsome, on top of you like that, the silver chain around his neck hanging loosely. 

“I guess I did sometimes. I just thought you found me weird. Like that day with the ice cubes…” 

His cock twitches in your hand and he chuckles embarrassingly. 

“Oh God, don’t talk about that day.” 

You don’t know what to say, but he smiles at you, his eyes a little darker.

“You made me so fucking horny that day I had to jerk off in the bathroom,” he explains, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to lick all that water off your body so bad…” 

It’s your turn to clench, and you bite your lip a little too violently. 

“You’re fucking with me,” you say, shaking your head.

“I’m not,” he answers, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I think about that day all the time. Imagining how sweet you taste.” 

His mouth goes up to your earlobe, which he takes in his mouth, sucking it in, and you let out an audible moan, pressing your thighs together and squeezing his cock in your hand at the same time. 

He hums, and stands back up to take off his jeans for good; he then removes your pants. Hyunjin immediately descends towards your legs, warming your thighs with his wide hands, and he slowly takes off your panties, discarding them with the rest of your clothes. 

You lay under him, completely naked, feeling safe. Hyunjin removes his boxers, and you see the full beauty of him, the angles of his hips, the curve of his cock. You take in the sight, and he does the same. Certainly your eyes must be as dizzy as his are. He tugs at his cock, biting his lip, and smiles at you. 

“Spread for me, beautiful.” 

You oblige, your pussy twitching as he stares down at you, his face contorted with lust. Hyunjin moves, settling his head between your legs. Your heartbeat accelerates as he kisses the insides of your thighs, slowly leading to your cunt. When he puts his plush lips against you, his tongue pressing against your wet folds, you gasp, your hips thrusting at the touch. 

“Hyunjin…” you cry out. 

He drinks you in, his tongue plunged into you. His caresses are attentive, and you’re never had someone eat you out this way before. It’s so measured and careful and yet so fervent, almost pious despite the sinfulness of the sound he makes against your cunt. It feels like he’s barely breathing, and you feel your entire body tense as he curls his tongue against your clit, teases your entrance, scoops your folds with his full lips. 

You grip the carpet, you shudder, and your orgasm is almost overwhelming. A loud moan escapes your mouth, and your legs shake, almost trapping him between them. When your body relaxes, and your thoughts wander away, you feel Hyunjin leaving kisses on your still trembling thighs. You open your eyes with difficulty, and discern him through the fog. He meets your gaze and smiles, his chin and lips coated in you. 

“Kiss me,” you plead, pulling him closer to you. 

His lips taste of you, of course, but it’s the feeling of his hardness against your still sensitive cunt that sends a shiver across your body. You’re barely recovering from your orgasm, trying to steady your breathing. Hyunjin strokes your hair. 

“I hope that was better,” he whispers. 

“Better?” you ask with a frown. 

“Than last time.” 

“Hyunjin…” you say softly. 

You open your eyes, taking his face in your hands so he looks at you, too. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen. 

“Last time was amazing,” you tell him. “It was quick, but it was good.” 

“It was?” he frowns. “I just thought…”

“I mean, it was for me,” you admit. “It was just another kind of sex, but I loved it. Didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did,” he says, kissing you softly. “I was just worried I ruined it by acting like a horny teenager.” 

“We both acted like horny teenagers,” you chuckle. “It’s okay. I got scared too. I guess it just… made us crave for more.” 

He nods, smiling at you. 

“Like I haven’t wanted to drown in that pussy for months.” 

“Hyunjin!” you cry out with a laugh. 

He chuckles, and you feel recovered enough, so you sit up slightly, pushing his chest forward. 

“Which makes me think,” you smirk. “There’s also something I’ve wanted to do for months. Sit down.” 

You guide him towards the armchair, where he takes a seat, staring at you intently. It’s like he doesn’t want to waste a second looking at something else, and you kneel between his legs, leaning forward to kiss his chest. 

His cock doesn’t really need your hand to stand on its own, but you still hold it, your fingers gently stroking its base. 

“You don’t have to -” 

“I want to,” you tell him. “Don’t you?” 

“Is it too intense to say I’ve dreamt about this before?” 

You blush a little and place a kiss on the tip of his cock. 

“No. I like it.” 

Hyunjin smirks, gathering your hair between his long fingers to hold it back from your face. You place your other hand on his thigh, and take him in your mouth. You go as low as you can, swirling your tongue around the length at the same time. As you go back up, you hollow your cheeks a little.  

Hyunjin lets out a deep groan, his head falling backwards on the armchair. As you keep bobbing your head around his cock, spit and precum making the act a little sloppy, you look up at him. You could draw each vein in his muscled neck from here. It sends a shiver down to your cunt, and you just have to touch yourself, putting pressure against your swollen clit. 

You listen to his breathing, loving how his fingers sometimes pull at your hair a little as he tenses. He bucks his hips sometimes, making you take him deeper in your mouth. You don’t mind - you do your best. He’s making such lewd sounds, moaning your name, and perhaps you’re liking this a little too much. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses as you accelerate your movements. “Stop, stop, please.” 

You remove him from between your lips, and he lets out a chuckle. He looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, his forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

“I just - you’re going to make me come, and I want to make this last.” 

You place a gentle kiss on his cock. “But I like doing this,” you pout. 

Hyunjin lets out a low laugh, placing a finger under your chin to lift your face towards his. He gives you a slow kiss, his tongue toying with yours. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you touching yourself there,” he whispers. “The sight alone could make me blow on the spot.” 

“Then I won’t do it again,” you tease.

“I’ll never forgive you if you don’t,” he retorts with a smirk. 

He plunges his lips against yours, moving back on the carpet next to you. His warm, long fingers cup your ass, and then slide against your wet folds before he applies sweet pressure. You gasp around his lips, rolling your hips to reach for more. Hyunjin smiles but does not say a thing - he just keeps going, and then pushes two of his fingers inside of you. 

“Yes,” you moan, feeling him stretch you. 

“So warm,” he whispers. “So tight for me. Fuck, so beautiful.” 

“Give me more of you, please,” you breathe. 

He starts to fuck you with his fingers, adding another after a few seconds, and you shudder against him. He reaches deep inside of you, and while it’s a delightful sensation, you still want more. 

“No,” you whisper. “I want you inside of me.” 

He nods, removing his fingers, licking them clean around his tongue. He accompanies you as you lay down against the carpet, a hand against your back. You keep your eyes in his, kept there by an invisible pull, as the tip of his cock brushes against your cunt. You sigh, your hands reaching for him, pushing your fingers in his soft hair. 

Hyunjin enters you with a shuddering moan, and he does not stop until he reaches the furthest he can go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a soft cry. He feels so good inside of you, both lean and hard. 

“My beauty,” he whispers in your ear. “Feels so good around me. I’m gonna go slow, I need to feel every inch of you.” 

His thrusts are so slow at first it feels like torture of the sweetest kind. You keep arching your back, begging for more, but at the same time it feels so good, so intimate, you can only enjoy every second. Hyunjin fucks you like he’s writing lines of poetry, like he’s making coffee one drip at a time, like he traces intricate patterns in foamy cream. 

“I think you were made for me,” he groans. “Or rather, I was made for you.” 

You shudder at his words. “Don’t let me go, please. Not ever.” 

He keeps whispering things in your ear, things that make sense, things that don’t, and you let him know how he makes you feel, how a part of you lives in him, in this place that is him. Your voices belong to the both of you, to none of the rest. 

After a while his thrusts gain in intensity, and you sit up slightly so that you face him, almost sitting on the carpet with him inside of you. The new position allows him to reach new depth, and the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you, begging to come undone, sends you into a second orgasm. He growls as you clench, shaking his head, sweat pearling on his lips, and you kiss them again and again. You’re lost in pleasure, Hyunjin dancing into you.

He comes not long after, holding you close to him, your forehead against his. You wish you could bottle up every sound he makes, every single breath that escapes his lips, keep it for later. You just listen to them, their memories safely kept in your very heartbeat. 

“I love you,” Hyunjin whispers. 

It comes out of nowhere and it doesn’t - it really doesn’t. 

You smile, grazing your nose against his. 

“I love you, too.”

“Hyunjin.” 

He blinks at the sound of his name, turning towards Jeongin, who is smiling politely at him. 

“Your friend’s here.” 

He nods towards the other end of the counter where Seungmin stands, giving him a wave. Hyunjin smiles back, lifting a finger to tell his friend he’ll be there in a minute. Seungmin nods back and heads towards the tables, taking a seat. 

Hyunjin prepares two cups of coffee, then takes off his apron and meets Seungmin at the table. 

“Thanks for coming, man,” Hyunjin says, taking a seat with a sigh. “I know the café isn’t exactly in your way.” 

“That’s fine,” Seungmin answers. “I get free coffee, don’t I?” 

“That’s true,” Hyunjin smiles. 

“But you work too much, man. You’re here almost every day.” 

Hyunjin nods - everyone says that to him all the time. He’s aware of it. But his whole life is the café. He would be nothing without it, and there’s rarely a day he actually forces himself to come to work. 

“What can I tell you?” he sighs with a shrug. “I like it.” 

Seungmin shakes his head. “I like my job, too, but everyone needs a few days off. Don’t forget there’s a world out there.” 

“You sound like you’re going to tell me I need to broaden my horizons, live a little, get laid.” 

Seungmin scoffs, taking a sip of coffee. “Well, you do.” 

“Next you’ll tell me you know someone I’d like, and you can introduce us?” 

“Well…”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin chuckles. 

The latter laughs, putting down his cup and crossing a leg over the other. He looks relaxed, almost detached, but Hyunjin knows him well enough. Seungmin always cares. Hyunjin bites his lip, tapping a finger on his leg. Then, he leans forward, his elbows on the table, and smiles at his friend. 

“She’s back.” 

“Who?” 

“Y’know.” 

Understanding flashes in Seungmin’s eyes. “Ice cube girl?” 

“Hm.” 

Hyunjin told Seungmin about you one drunken night. The two friends were inside a pub, hidden away in a booth, exchanging stories. Seungmin, who had just recently started going out with his girlfriend, started talking about sex. So Hyunjin told him about the sexiest thing he had ever seen. You, with the ice cubes. 

“Oh.” Seungmin grins, looking around. “Does she still come every week?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I think she has a crush on you, man.” 

Hyunjin smirks. “I think so, too.”

He can’t help it - he glances at you, who is sitting at your usual table. You’re sipping a simple black coffee, half of an espresso macaron still on your plate. You’re wearing Hyunjin’s favorite sweater, the apricot colored one. 

He chose it himself from your closet this morning. Seungmin follows his gaze, and as you feel the two pairs of eyes on you, you lift your head and smile at them. Seungmin waves back, inviting you to join them. You do, Hyunjin holding your hand tightly in his own. 

Outside the snow melts under a clear sun, giving way to a hopeful spring.

“Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home — my only home.”  — charlotte brontë

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @tanyas97 ; @raspbinniecreme ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @oxviolentheartxo (i'm unable to tag you sorry)

[changenameno]

Ready, set…oh?

(Complete)

Summary:

He felt incredibly on edge because your eyes didn’t leave his figure once, watching so very closely. But August wasn’t above taking action, even in public, even if you were a pretty little thing… 

Pairing: August Walker & Fem. Reader

Warnings: None, just something short, a bit angsty but mostly fluff

Word count: 1K

A/N: All reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated (but please be kind)! Enjoy! PS: Any mistakes are my own…❤️✨

!Fallout: Mission Impossible and Agent August Walker are not my own creation!

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The moment he entered the small café, he felt eyes on him. A small bell above his head had chimed, as he’d opened the door, making his presence known. Still he couldn’t shake the feeling, that your fixed stare had found him even before he’d stepped through the threshold.

His striking blue eyes quickly surveyed the room. It was near empty. Only two customers were sitting at the small round tables and one bored looking cashier stood behind the counter.

To his left, at the window, sat an elderly gentleman reading his paper. And then there was you.

The clock at the wall, read ten minutes to seven, so no wonder business was still slow.

August stepped to the counter, clearing his throat, as the cashier had yet to look up, from the magazine he’d been hiding behind.

His deep voice rumbled: ”One Americano.”

When the guy finally put the magazine away, he flinched as he noticed the large, domineering man before him. Swallowing thickly at the harsh glare, pinning him in place. He stumbled over his words: “Erm, yeah of course, sir. F-for here or to go?”

“Here.” His face fell slightly at his response, clearly having hoped he’d leave with the coffee. “Al-alright, you can erm..sit. Your order will be right out.”

What irked August even more than the stuttering idiot in front of him, was the attentive gaze that hadn’t left him since he’d set foot in the coffee shop.

He slowly turned his head to the left, where you sat next to the counter, a cookie and beverage sitting on your table, untouched.

Telling him, you couldn’t have been here for more than a few minutes.

August scanned your face. For a split second, your eyes met, then you hurriedly looked back down, clearly having been caught, ogling him. You were rather young to be an agent. Especially for being put on his case, he mused.

He didn’t know if he should be insulted that someone like you, was sent to catch him or impressed that you’d found him so quickly. His dark brows furrowed in thought, while he made his way over to a free table close to the door.

The longer August studied you, the more he became enamoured by your looks, you were exactly his kind of pretty.

Apparently too scared to look up again, you kept nibbling at your chocolate chip cookie and taking small sips from your cup.

At last the cashier came and brought his Americano. Moving away as quickly as he came, as if August’s mere presence could hurt him somehow. When he took a sip, he noticed you had pulled out a notebook. Intrigued he kept watching you, while you scribbled something down. What were you doing? Were you communicating with someone? Calling in backup?

As easy as you were on the eyes, he couldn’t let you arrest him just because of that. He needed an action plan and fast, because your cookie was gone already and your hot beverage couldn’t be far off.

August didn’t enjoy making a scene but if he had to, he would. Putting down his own cup, he let his hand slide off the table, down to his sturdy thigh. His left had picked up the beverage anew, as to not rouse suspicion. Gently holding onto his hidden gun with his right. He was ready. Seemingly so were you.

Next, you did something that took him by surprise. You ripped a tiny piece of paper out of the notebook, then continued putting the small book away and into your bag, standing up. You smoothed down your deep red skirt, making your way to the counter to pay for what you’d consumed.

August didn’t let any movement of yours go unnoticed. He knew, putting away your purse, presented you with the perfect opportunity to pull out your own gun and fire away.

Your face turned to look at him, the tiniest and most precious of smiles painting your lips. Which confused him further, you had yet to draw your weapon. And what was with that slip of paper? You clutched it so tightly in your hand, he was sure whatever secret message it held, was illegible by now.

But he was ready to pounce any moment, all his muscles taunt, as you glided over to his table. August’s blue eyes were gleaming over the top of his cup at your perfectly innocent face, betraying absolutely nothing of your intentions. Steadily setting his coffee back down. He hoped, he didn’t have to go through with his action plan, it’d be a pity to shoot such a fine specimen of a woman.

Surprisingly before he could even think about making a move, you stopped in your tracks as if suddenly unsure of what to do.

He raised one of his thick eyebrows in question, because instead of making your own move as he expected, your hand shot out. Letting go of that piece of paper which promptly fell onto the table. Then you turned on your heels and rushed out of the café without looking back.

August was stumped. If you were an agent why the piece of paper? Why not just go and turn him in? Or arrest him yourself?

As if the little scrap of paper could somehow burn him, he carefully slid it across the tabletop with his index finger. He glanced around the still relatively empty café, to ensure no one was watching and only then he unfolded it. Now gawking at it, in utter disbelief.

Lying in front of him was the formerly, folded massage, but it did not contain any secret information. No. Your name, along with what he assumed was your phone number, had been written on it. Even going as far as having drawn a little heart at the end. August blankly stared at the scribble. Realisation hitting him all at once.

Oh.

Oh?

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Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me!❤️✨

[whorediaries-09]

i wanna be yours;

pairing- sirius black x barista!reader warning(s)- tooth decaying fluff. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- totally self indulgent.

masterlist for the 'the seven lives'

the slut club

if you like your coffee hot let me be your coffee pot

he doesn’t fancy coffee much, he’s more of a tea person.

much to his dismay, james drags him to the one of the small downtown cafés in london. james likes his sweet coffees, it helps him focus, he insists. sirius thinks it makes him more inattentive; if that were to be possible. he thinks his friend would still be chasing colourful butterflies or pet dogs that curl up near sirius’ legs.

however, the feeling quickly dissipates. when his eyes fall on you. you’ve got your hair up in a messy bun, writing down orders on a piece of paper. a slight smile curved upon your lips. the apron you wear is dirty, and he imagines it smelling like freshly baked cookies and coffee. he feels his heart skip a beat when you turn your head around at the sound of the charms above the door jingling. the smile on your lips broadens, the soft sunlight reflecting your features.

he feels a weird warm sensation calm down over his nerves, as you wave to his friend.

‘hi james, what can i get you today?’ you ask. even your voice is ethereal.

‘just the regular, darlin’- he jolts sirius in his ribcage, causing him to stomp on his foot, ‘-and whatever this dolt likes,’

his hand grips his ribcage as the pain of the soft blow dissipates over his body. he rolls his eyes, and he walks nearer to the counter, behind which you stand, taking in the sight of you. you chuckle softly, and he thinks it’s music to his years. he’s pretending to trail his eyes over the menu, trying to choose what he wants. truth be told, he has no idea about what he’s seeing. cappuccinos espressos, lattes, americano, they all seem fancy, foreign words to him. he chooses the safest option, to not make a fool of himself.

‘i’ll have a masala chai, please,’ he says. james stares at him in silence. he watches his eyes as you walk away back into the kitchen, he knows that look. it’s been years since he’s seen it on his friend’s eyes. but he knows it, he remembers it.

‘okay so one caffé mocha for james and one masala chai for-?’ you speak. sirius thankfully enough, catches up to your words. he leans closer, letting his hips sabotage the counter,

‘for sirius,’ he whispers, as if a secret to be kept between you and him. he doesn’t miss the flush on your skin or the way your eyes cradle over his appearance or way you unconsciously lean slightly closer to listen to him. you nod, everting your eyes.

‘one masala chai for sirius,’

it’s the best one he’s had, he thinks.

*-

you smudge the sticky lip gloss on your lips, fixing stray strands of hair on your head. it’s silly you think, to expect sirius to come back to the café. he wasn’t with james the other day he came in. but still, a part of you heaves hope that he’ll come in.

to maybe, just ask your name.

you’re busy eating your lunch, balancing yourself on a tool while reading a book. it’s not a very lovely book, with weird phrases and graphic descriptions containing nothing very interesting, but you think you’ll survive. it’s just for time pass, you convince yourself, letting the taste of your lunch relish on your tongue. it’s not a very busy day, with only a few customers dropping by, along with james. so, you’d finally convinced him to try something new out of the menu. he’d reluctantly chosen a caramel iced frappe. he was a very picky person, and you remembered how remus had introduced him to coffee, the first time he’d walked into the shop.

you never saw remus again, james became a regular. a picky person thing you supposed, to drink something new from the only shop they knew and liked.

you wondered whether sirius was a picky person too. it was a strange looming feeling, one that echoed into your brain and made you feel like a teenager high on hormones. but who wouldn’t be? the man exuded an aura of charm, his words and voice as smooth as velvet. it was idiotic you supposed, to be enamoured by somebody who didn’t give you more than his name.

still, it makes your stomach turn happily with dopamine, when your hopes turn into reality and the forsaken man that had been on your mind turns up. he carries a very chubby baby in his arms. you silently appreciate the flexing veins on his tattooed biceps as he walks towards you.

‘the chai was fire,’ he says. his eyes wander over to your uniform, trying to catch your name tag. there’s none he realizes, before his eyes fix on your face.

‘maybe you’ll try a coffee today?’ you say, a shy smile on your face.

‘surprise me darling,’ he says. the way the r rolls off his tongue makes you stomach do somersaults.

‘i’ll try my best,’ you say, dashing off into the kitchen.

it’s a hazelnut mocha caffé you bring back. you’re not sure whether he would appreciate the slight nut like taste on the drink, but it’s still worth a try. more cliched than a try really, bringing a cute customer your personal favourite drink.  

you write his name on the cup with as much precision as you can on the curved surface. try to make the dots on the i’s look more carefully drawn along the paper. you silently hope he notices your effort.

‘what have you got, for me now, hot stuff?’ he says, a cheeky grin on his face. he enjoys the tiny flush the appears across your skin and how you bite your lip at the nickname.

‘are you flirting with me because your kiddo has eaten up the cookies on the counter?’ sirius’ eyes wanders to the baby in his arms, and he grabs a tissue to wipe off the dust of his cheeks.

‘he’s not mine, i’m his godfather. it’s james’ kid,’ he explains, letting out a soft chuckle at the baby’s antics.

‘father like son i suppose,’ you drawl, handing him the latte. he looks at the cup, wondering what you’ve got him for a surprise. he hopes it’s not one of the sweet things’ james’ buys. it’ll make him sleepy, and he won’t be able to take care of harry as he’d promised.

‘how much do I owe you -?’ he stops mid-sentence, in a dilemma to use nicknames or not. he wants to know your name, let it simmer on his tongue before he lets it out. thankfully, you get the deal. so you give him your name.

he thinks it’s beautiful.  

*-

‘hi baby, what are you drawing?’ your voice is soft. you hand sirius his masala chai, rutting your hips against harry’s side of the table. he fiddles with his crayons, drawing random scribbles on the piece of paper. his striking green eyes stare at you, before he blabbers, his words not so clear yet,

‘a motohcych!’

‘ouhh,’ you hum, pushing your fingers through the mop of curly hair atop his head. you scratch your nails softly on his scalp, enjoying the sound of his chuckling.

‘is it prehhy?’ he asks, a shy smile on his face as he finishes scribbling on the paper. you’re not able to make out much from the black colours, but the innocence in his voice makes your heart melt. you press a kiss on his chubby cheek, and he giggles,

‘it’s very pretty,’ you say, bopping his nose.

‘whah do you like? i wihh drawh thahh’ he says, struggling with his words. you find it adorable. but when you speak out your answer, it’s more for sirius than harry,

‘flowers maybe? like yellow ones?’

*-

on a particularly busy day when, sirius walks in your café, it’s not a very empty space. and neither are you to be found anywhere. he hopes you’re in the kitchen somewhere, preparing your coffees. over the times he’s come over, he’s learnt you’re a shy thing. he’s not much of an observer, but somehow you make his eyes stop. you make him observe and learn things.

so sirius puts the bunch of flowers he’d bought on the table, alongside a note for you.

when you find them, they’re barely blooming, buds of yellow flowers. it makes your heart flutter when you find his note. a boost of serotonin runs through your body as you sabotage the tissue, searching for his number. it’s dumb, you think, but it’s also a hope that blossoms within you. you however find none.

you’re distracting by your name being shouted across the kitchen, asking for a hand in help.

*-

you’re freezing, as the rain patters over the sidewalk, just barely missing your shoes under the sunroof. you urse yourself for not bringing in your umbrella or a raincoat. now you’re stuck under the rain, with nowhere to go until the rain stops.

you’re saved by an angel with red hair who comes along the way, carrying an extra umbrella, with a toddler curled up in her arms. her eyes are striking similar, an emerald green you could recognise anywhere.

‘harry?’ you ask, looking at the toddler. he flashes you a beautiful grin, throwing grubby hands at you. you pinch his cheeks, smiling.

‘you must be lily,’ you say, turning to the woman. she stares at you flabbergasted, her mind seemingly rendering to her memories,

‘how do you know me, sweetie?’ she says, giving you an extra umbrella.

‘sirius- um well he comes to the café very often. he usually brings your adorable kid around,’

her eyes scan your features, as a look of realization dawns upon her. she squeezes your shoulder, slowly walking away into the rain. it pitters over the plastic of the umbrella, and she smiles, a soft look in her eyes.

‘give the umbrella to sirius, the next time you see him,’  

*-

sirius is jittery when he walks into the café. he hopes to catch you, even though he knows it’s not your shift. but there’s something about the aftermath of rain and petrichor which heightens his hopes. he tousles with his raven dark strands, hoping he doesn’t look too bad. you’ve made him shy. in a way, where he’s too intimidated to speak his feelings out directly. but he’s a man with plans.

his heart threatens to jump out of his chest when he finds you there. it’s the work of gods, or perhaps the work of his faith. he walks towards the counter, and you catch his eye. he thinks your eyes carry the most magnificent twinkle when you see him. your eyes linger on his lips a tad bit longer for it to be just friendly and his heart almost jumps through his ribcage. he’s almost forgetting his plans when you smile so sweetly at him. for a moment, he thinks it’s meant just for him.

‘hi darling,’ he greets, leaning towards the counter. his hips jolt at the metal, and he takes out his phone. you nod, acknowledging him.

‘do you think you can help me with…a crush?’ he says. he watches your breaths stops in your throat, as a dark sadness reflecting in your features.

‘maybe,’ you whisper, a quiet disdain succumbing your voice. you don’t meet his eyes. over the time he’s observed you, he realised that you don’t meet anybody’s eyes when you’re sad or angry. it’s a way of bottling up your emotions and eating them up till your stomach churns.

‘you wanna see a picture?’ he asks, trying to not react to the sadness on your face.

‘sure,’ you say. his heart almost shatters when you keep your head low, not meeting his eyes. he unlocks his phone, sliding it between your face.

your reflection stares back at you, and you jump. with surprise or glee, he can’t decipher. the sadness on your features has dissipated, your eyes glowing with hope and emotion. he stares at his reflection in your eyes, and he thinks he’s the prettiest reflected through the colour of your irises. he bites his lip when you don’t say anything.

he’s waiting in contemplation, wondering what your next move is, when you lean against the counter, closer to his face, breathing him in. he secretly thanks himself for chewing on a gum before he came in.

‘i think you should just ask her out on a date. she’ll be foolish not to say yes to you,’ you say, your eyes full of mischief. you’re grinning, as he counts the wrinkles beside your eyes.

‘you think so?’ he says, leaning closer, and almost brushing his lips against yours. almost letting himself taste you. he thinks if he has a taste, he won’t be able to stop himself from devouring you, from ravaging you apart.

‘i bet so,’ you say, smiling before your hand cradles his face, pushing his lips upon yours. he groans, capturing his lips with yours. he tastes coffee and vanilla on your tongue, melting away into his tastebuds. he loves it, he thinks, when you slide your arms across his neck, pushing yourself deeper into a passionate fury of build-up tension and hormones. his heart flutters with serotonin, and he tangles his fingers into your hair.

he doesn’t fancy coffee much, but he’s never found it more endearing than this moment.

*********************************

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