#i hate almond milk but i needed my cappuccino and that's all they had

[moonchild-in-blue]

I wish all [food establishments] who [mess up their customers orders even though they have EXPLICITLY asked and PAYED for their food substitutions due to diet restrictions/allergies] a very [I hope you have the most horrible tummy ache ever and have no access to a bathroom] 💙

[the-flaminhos]

MAZE RUNNER HEADCANONS CAUSE I SAID SO. Anyways this is gonna end up leaning more towards Minewt/ Newtmas head canons but I want this to be ivy trio so bad so if you squint hard enough that’s what you’ll get. UH YEAH. Angst, fluff, random shit, it’ll probably be here. Also heads up this is MY head so you don’t need to agree dude. ENJOY !!

- In the glade Minho and Newt used to make fun of gally but all in good spirit until gally dragged Minho in the circle just to have his ass whooped

- Thomas and Minho like collecting shells and showing newt but one time they found one that reminded them of chuck, cried, showed newt, and made him cry too

- In the safe haven, when Thomas and Newt started flatting together people would constantly bring up the roommates trope and they wouldn’t get it all the way up until they started dating

- The ivy trio does movie night on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday

- Thomas tried the therapy thing where you write notes to people you dislike and set them on fire but everyone got the wrong idea and thought it was a bonfire. That’s how many letters he wrote.

- They started a band they called “Gladiators” but it’s pronounced “Glade-iators” and Minho thinks he’s a genius every time he corrects someone on it

- The band featured fry on the drums and Gally on the guitar, Minho sings, newt plays the bass, and Thomas knows how to fucking play the keyboard.

- Newt and Minho speak in a stupid made up language to confuse Thomas but Thomas learnt the “words” and confused them right back.

- Thomas will call newt stuff like: Babe, baby, dude, and bro

- Newt calls Thomas stuff like: Darling, love, dear, and sweet

- Minho and Brenda start dating and cringe at the sound of both (they call each other honey.)

- In the glade, when it was just newt and Minho up during bonfire nights they’d stargaze for about half an hour before cringing and leaving to sleep with an awkward hug

- Thomas and Minho shadow box each other to see who has to help set up bonfires and Thomas loses every time

- When the three of them had to put names on the tribute rock they all cried at the same intensity while carving Chucks name out

- Newt is a wet the brush and the paste kinda guy, Thomas does his dry, and Minho does his with just a wet brush

- Newt: socks and sandals. Thomas: sandals, no socks. Minho: just socks cause he can’t be fucked with sandals cause he fell while running once.

- Newt likes Caramelo Thomas like almond chocolate and Minho adores white chocolate

- When newt is sad but doesn’t want to do his sobbing to Thomas he’ll cry to Minho for hours as Thomas listens from the other room wondering if he’s still good enough for newt

- Thomas and Minho like eating dinner together when newt decides to eat dinner with his sister

- The first time Thomas and newt made out they were both shit faced so the only person who actually remembers it happening is Minho

- Sometimes when Minho thinks nothing is real newt is experiencing the worst sleep paralysis and Thomas is thinking about what he could’ve done to help everyone. Sometimes it all lines up and they can’t help each other.

- Newt has a fear of throwing up

- Minho hates mint more than life but will always take gum if offered it

- newt: Bloody hell! Minho: holy shuck faced idiot!! Thomas: FUCK!!!

- Newt likes his coffee with more milk than coffee and that only IF he’s drinking the stuff otherwise its tea, Thomas drinks his black and everyone hates it, and Minho is a cappuccino kinda guy

Okay I’ll shut up now whanau😭😭

All my love to you - Nevaya <33

[romioneficfest]

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

Title: Double Hazlenut Almond Milk Macchiato

Prompt: Day 2/Meet-Cute

Tumblr Name: 

Rating: General

Summary: Muggle AU. Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a pretty complicated coffee order.

Trigger Warnings: N/A

xxx

It’s seven o’clock on a Monday, and the morning rush is in full swing at The Burrow. Forming a line out the door and around the block are dozens of important, yet fidgety business people with complicated coffee orders, and little patience.

Ron Weasley opens every morning, Monday through Friday, and he handles it well. Most customers are regulars, and he’s already memorized their morning joe specifications.

The majority of the morning crowd has been forgiving of the occasional slip-up. Seven years of working the first shift at the family-owned coffee shop means a history of accidental extra-whipped cream, almond milk instead of soy, and finger-slips on the espresso machine, and the customers always return.

Maybe it’s because they’re too tired to notice their Americanos are actually Flat-Whites. Or maybe it’s the hospitable vibe of The Burrow that makes complaining about bad latte art seem as petty as telling Grandma her muffins are dry.

Every now and then, there’s a new customer, and Ron has to whip out his earnest, people-pleasing attitude to assure that the newbie sticks around. He’ll do what it takes to turn them into a regular, and make them thankful that they chose the local joint over the cookie-cutter corporate shop across the street.

‘Take an interest in their day!’ his Mum would say. ‘Validate their order! Then make sure to ask their name, and use it!’

Monday morning, at seven o’clock, is one of those times.

“Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato.”

“Size?”

“Medium.”

The customer is about Ron’s age, and probably new in town. She doesn’t yet know that at The Burrow, ‘Double Macchiatos’ are simply called ‘Tall Macchiatos’, and instead of ‘small’, ‘medium’, and ‘large’, The Burrow’s sizes go by their family pets in order of mass: Pig, Errol, and Chudley.

“Great,” he says, grinning, “coming right up.”

“Make sure it’s almond milk,” she reminds him.

“Yup.”

“And hazelnut,” she adds.

“Yup.”

“Double-shot—”

“I heard you,” says Ron impatiently. Have a little trust, lady.

“Okay, just making sure!”

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Hermione.”

Ron stares at the girl. Her brown eyes are round and drowsy, her hair is unkempt and wild, which contradicts the clean lines of the business suit she’s wearing. She looks so normal. “Can you repeat that?”

“Hermione. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E.”

He hadn’t asked her to spell it, and the way she emphasizes each syllable reminds Ron of how adults would read to him when he was a kid. It’s condescending.

“Coming right up, Hermione.”

“Great.”

Ron resists rolling his eyes. He can handle a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato, and if he screws it up, she probably wouldn’t even know the difference. Most customers wouldn’t.

As Hermione paces by the counter checking her watch, he whips up a medium, double, hazelnut, almond milk ...cappuccino. Just to test his theory, of course.

“Here you go!”

He hands the drink to Hermione and watches as she takes a sip. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, he’s convinced she can tell…

Then her face melts back to a polite grin. “Thank you!”

Maybe she can’t. Ron shakes his head as she turns and leaves, turning his attention to the next customer’s order.

Hermione returns on Tuesday morning at 7 am sharp. Her hair is pulled back into a stiff, tight ponytail that just barely lassos her wild mane, and she probably checks her watch fifteen times while in line. Ron suppresses a scoff—she can just make coffee at home if she’s in such a rush.

“Morning, Hermione!” he says with a forced smile. “Same as yesterday?”

She looks taken aback at first, clearly not expecting him to remember her name. “Um, yes, same as yesterday.”

“Coming right up.”

“Medium, Double, Hazelnut—“

“Almond Milk Macchiato,” he says. “I got it.”

“Okay,” shrugs Hermione, eyebrows raised. “Then do it.”

What’s her problem? “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she snaps. “I need coffee, not a counseling session.”

Wow. He wants to retort back, but his mother’s nagging voice in his head stops him.  ‘Always be extra-polite to grumpy customers; remember they haven’t had their coffee fix yet.’

“Of course,” Ron says through gritted teeth, in as polite a tone as he can manage. To satisfy his desire to argue, he whips her up a medium, double, hazelnut soy macchiato, only half-hoping she doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t get a chance to see if she does, because she’s out the door before a single sip.

Her Wednesday return is accompanied by a looming dread in the pit of Ron’s stomach. He hates rude people, especially at 7am. Ron spots her impatiently tapping her foot in line, as usual, and prepares himself for their interaction.

“Hello,” he says politely, stopping himself before the natural ‘how are you?’ escapes his lips. “What can I get for you today?”

“Hi,” she says with a sheepish smile. “The same as yesterday.”

“Which is?”

“Erm,” she stammers, her expression confused, “a medium—“

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, “I know your order.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She pays, and Ron fixes her a medium double caramel almond milk macchiato.

“Sorry about yesterday,” she says when she picks up her drink. “You were just trying to be nice, and I was rude.”

“Oh,” starts Ron, who isn’t expecting an apology. “That’s okay. Happens a lot during the morning shift.”

She smiles and nods before turning around to leave, taking a sip on her way out the door. Ron watches for her reaction, but doesn’t catch it.

She seems to be in a better mood by Thursday.

“The usual,” is all she says when she arrives at the counter, but this time she’s smiling. She looks different when she smiles—pretty. Something else unidentifiable replaces the dread in his stomach. Ron wonders if it’s the first time he’s seen her smile or if it’s just the first time he’s noticed.

But based on the tired circles under her eyes, she’s exhausted, so Ron prepares her a medium triple hazelnut almond milk macchiato. An extra shot of espresso never hurt anyone, and maybe it’ll help her get through the day. Or maybe, she’ll experience a coffee crash and have to return to The Burrow later.

Both good things.

“Just so you know,” she says as Ron hands over her cup, “it’s been a stressful week. I started a new job, and it’s not going well.”

“I’m—I’m sorry to hear that,” says Ron. He looks into her eyes, and for a moment, they soften. There’s more to her tough and professional exterior.

“These have made the week just a little better,” she adds, holding up her macchiato, before smiling softly and turning to leave.

Of course, Hermione requests her usual on Friday, and Ron is quickly running out of ideas for ways to screw with her order.

In celebration of the weekend, he might be able to pass a large off as a special treat. Other than that, he has to stick to the request—a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato. The first of the week. Better not mess it up.

As soon as he pops the cap onto her cup, it looks empty. He reaches for his marker again and scribbles something else—his phone number.

He’s not sure what compels him to do it. Maybe it’s because the larger size leaves so much white space. It could be because the grumpy brunette has been occupying his thoughts all week — he’s never purposely tried to fuck up someone’s coffee five days in a row.

Or maybe, it’s because when she walked in this morning, he smiled, and he just wants to learn more about the woman who thinks she knows what a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato tastes like.

She’ll probably ignore it anyway.

But later that day, his phone buzzes on the counter, and he scrambles for it faster than he’d run away from a mob of spiders.

The text is from an unknown number, but there’s no mystery. It only took five days, but you finally got my order correct!

Ron scowls at his phone. She knew? She was duping him?

Well, Hermione, why’d you keep coming back?

As soon as the message sends, he’s impatient, tapping his foot, pacing, and jittery. Just like Hermione every morning.

His phone flashes and buzzes, and Ron almost drops it by checking too quickly.

It wasn’t for the coffee…

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us Part 2

I’m gonna preface with the fact that I hate this fic especially the ending but I’m gonna throw it here anyways. Please be kind cause I hate it 

Man I promise, she's so self conscious

She has no idea what she's doing in college

That major that she majored in don't make no money

But she won't drop out, her parents will look at her funny

“Cappuccino with almond milk please.”

Kiara whips around and there is Harry with his decorative rings, fitted suit, and neatly combed hair. It has been two weeks since she has seen Harry in person. They have been flirting over text, a few raunchy pictures on Kiara’s side, and some naughty messages back from Harry, but it hasn’t reached anything past that. Harry has tried asking Kiara to dinner a couple times, but she always has an excuse that work has come up, or she needs to stay in to study for an upcoming test.

In all honesty, she’s just nervous. She hasn’t been on a real date since highschool. What does she wear? What does she say? Who will drive?

She smiles shyly. “Hi. I've missed seeing your face in the mornings.”

Harry has been having his assistant come to get his coffee. He has been nervous about seeing Kiara in person as well, so he has been avoiding the cafe. He doesn’t want to come off as too pushy or overly assertive. However, today Trina called him and convinced him to make an appearance at the shop.

“Me too,” he responds. “You look nice today.”

“Thank you. Trina has been making me try this new skin routine.”

“Well you're glowing. As always.”

Kiara places Harry’s brown paper coffee cup on the counter and adds some milk to it.

“So,” Harry awkwardly starts. “How do you feel about dinner?”

Kiara bites the inside of her cheek. She has been avoiding this for way too long now. She knows she is gonna have to rip off the bandaid if she wants to get anywhere with Harry. Also for him to fuck her again.

“Yes. I would like that.” Kiara hands him his coffee. “I mean only if you really want me to go with you. Then totally yes. And it's not like I’ve been avoiding you or anything. I mean maybe I am. But that's because I’m nervous.”

“That's okay. I'm too. Nervous that is.” Harry assures her. “We are both kind of new to this.”

Kiara shakes her head in agreement.

“I know a chef. He can come to my house, cook for us-”

“I have weed,” Kiara blurts out before thinking.

“Excuse me?” Harry takes a sip from his coffee.

“I mean uhhh… I just got some weed a while ago. I really want to smoke it and usually it’s with Trina but she is pregnant. I thought maybe you would smoke it with me? We can still have dinner, of course.”

Kiara didn’t start smoking until she met Trina. Trina had bad migraines and claimed that the weed would help her with it, so when they were both tired and stressed out from work, a joint was usually shared on their apartment steps after work.

Harry laughs lightly underneath his breath. “I haven’t smoked weed since highschool.”

“So is that a yes? Because I’m out of a smoking buddy ever since Trina got pregnant and I could use a good stress reliever.”

Harry’s eyes look to the right and to the left to mke sure no one is near before dipping his head down to Kiara’s ear and whispering, “Is the way I fuck you not good enough of a stress reliever?”

Harry pulls back to see Kiara looking at him with wide eyes, and her mouth drops open.

“Oh you're sick for that.”

“Mhmmm, I can pick you up at around six? You can bring your...paraphernalia of course.”

“Six works. I should be out of here around three.”

Harry frowns. “Do you need a ride back to your apartment?”

“No, it's fine. I will take the subway.”

“Nonsense. I can send a driver over-.”

“Do not do that,” Kiara tells Harry sternly. “I’m a big girl you know. I can take the subway.”

Harry picks up Kiara’s hand and runs his thumb over the tops of her fingers. “Alright. Just text me when you get to mine. Stay safe.”

When Kiara got home she quickly went over a few outfits with Trina before settling on white sweatpants and baby blue tank top. The sweatpants were a safe bet because they made her ass look nice, and the tank top actually belonged to Trina, who made sure that Kiara at least looked decent before heading over to Harry’s.

The whole train ride over Kiara picked at her chipped nail polish, reminding herself that she is not a 16 year old virgin.

I’m a grown ass adult. Kiara thought to herself. I can totally keep my composure.

Kiara thought wrong.

As soon as she took the elevator up to Harry’s penthouse she wanted to turn back and take the green line all the way back home.

Kiara paces up and down Harry’s hallway for a good five minutes until she hears a deep British accident.

“Kiara? What are you doing?”

She jumps. “ I- uh. I’m sorry. I’m pacing. Obviously.”

Harry is leaned up on the door frame. He is also wearing sweatpants except his own are gray. Kiara’s eyes instantly recognize his bird tattoos that are slightly peeking out from under his black shirt.

“But are you okay?” Harry asks.

“Just fine! Honestly. I think I drank too much coffee today, and it didn’t help my nerves.”

Harry pushes himself off of the doorframe and takes a step toward her. “No need to be nervous. Your hair looks different. It’s cute.”

“Oh,” Kiara touches the side of her hair letting her fingers run through her curls. She quickly remembers she washed her hair after work, putting some new styling gel she bought from the beauty supply store, and a tiny braid on the right side of her head that had a few gold beads on it.

“How did you notice I changed my hair?”

“How would I not notice?”

Kiara’s face goes warm and she smiles like a little girl with a bucket full of candy on halloween. Kira changes her hair constantly. From braids, locs, and twists. She rarely ever wears her out, and maybe it’s because she is really embarrassed about her natural hair because of how thick and unruly it can be. She doesn’t really know how to style it either. This new hairstyle came from a youtube video, and it's a gamble because she is not sure if it will last all day, but she currently doesn’t have the money to get it done in a protective style so this will have to do.

“Come inside. It’s chilly out here.”

Harry’s home is something out of one of those housing hunting magazines. She walks straight into the living room, and the first thing she notices is the view. The long windows expose the view of the New York City skyline. The moon peeks out over the penthouse flashing a beautiful light that cascades right down on the kitchen. Kiara brushes her fingertips on the granite countertop and they feel more luxurious than anything she has had the pleasure of touching.

“The view is beautiful.” Kiara says walking up towards the large windows.

Harry follows closely behind her and wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her against him. “It's my favorite part about living here.”

“So what is it that you do for work again?” Kiara asks, looking outside the massive window.

Harry’s conscience has taken over his thoughts and he truly doesn't know what the right thing to do here is.

“I just own the club.” He kisses the back of her head, and then the top of her shoulder. “I also do a lot of stock trading and financial investment stuff, but the club keeps me busy.”

Kiara scrunches her face in disgust. “So you like math.”

“Oh love it. I like that it doesn’t feel like you are heading into the unknown. There is always a way to get an answer.”

“Oh my god. I’m about to smoke weed with a nerd.” Kiara spins around to face Harry.

“Mmm don’t think I was much of a nerd when you were screaming my name a couple weeks ago,” Harry says in response, placing his top hand just inches above Kiara’s head and leans into the window.

Kiara turns around to face Harry. “I will run back home with my weed.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes I will.”

“Kiara,” Harry says in a warning tone.

For a beat Kiara stands and stares at him before taking off running to his penthouse.

“Kiara!” Harry yells running after her.

“Stay away white man!” Kiara keeps running down the hall, making sure not to hit the expensive furniture Harry has.

Not even a full minute goes by before Harry scoops Kiara off her feet and throws her over his shoulder.

“I’m being held hostage!” She laughs uncontrollably, hitting Harry's back repeatedly.

Harry delivers one harsh spank to Kiara’s ass and she yelps. “I would spank you again, but I know you like that shit.”

He gently puts Kiara down on the couch before grabbing some backwoods he set out on the kitchen counter.

“Russian cream?” Kiara notices the package before Harry could hand it to her. “This is the good shit.”

Kiara pulls out a small baggie of weed from her back pocket. “It's already grinded up. You want to do this in the house?”

“We can go out on the balcony. Here,” Harry reaches for one of his navy blue sweaters with a small nike check mark in the corner that was laying on the back of the couch. “So you don’t get cold.”

Kiara smiles to herself and when Harry turns around she embarrassingly brings the sweater up to her nose to smell. It has a floral woody scent to it, meaning Harry has worn it a couple times and his scent still lingers on the sweater.

Harry opens the balcony door for Kiara and the view couldn’t get any better. The hustle and bustle of New York City is loud beneath them, but here on the ninth floor with Harry, it's quiet. She feels secure, and safe, compared to the crazy, and unsure life that is going on beneath them.

The balcony has a long black couch to sit on with a glass table that bends in the shape of a half circle. The fireplace is turned on and a sound system is playing some light RnB music in the background.

“Do you need help rolling?” Harry's voice brings Kiara right back to reality.

“Oh no I’m fine. I’m pretty fast.”

Harry watches as Kiara expertly opens the packaging with her teeth. She has a hot pink blunt splitter attached to her keys and uses it to open up the back wood and remove the tobacco from it. He watches her sprinkle the weed right in the backwood not letting a drop of it go to waste.

The last time Harry smoked weed was his first year of college. It was fun, a few of his friends had got it at a party and they went back to Harry’s apartment to smoke it. He recalls being extremely relaxed, even sleepy at a point. As life went on Harry really didn’t have time to smoke weed anymore.

But here he is watching Kiara lick a backwood. The way her tongue rolled with ease across the top of her blunt and her painted black acrylic nails expertly moving around the blunt was turning Harry on.

Kiara takes the first hit, coughing a little after she inhales. “Oh wow. Fuck that’s strong.”

She passes it onto Harry who gladly accepts it inhaling the smoke. He feels his muscles instantly relax. He takes another hit, coughing a bit this time letting his head lean back to blow the smoke into the air.

“God I needed that,” Harry mellows, closing his eyes slightly, passing Kiara the blunt.

“You work every day?”

Harry hums and nods his head in response. “Every fucking day.”

“This like… is going down smoother than expected? Did you put something else in it?”

“Yeah lavender and rose petals.”

Harry laughs. “Lavender and rose petals of course you did. That is such a Kiara thing to do.”

“Well the lavender and the rose petals will help you relax. You should take a vacation. You deserve it, “Kiara brings the blunt up to her lips.

Harry unexpectedly grabs Kiara ankles that are just inches away from and pulls her close to him. She snaps upwards and Harry places his hand on her back and pulls her close to him.

“Come with me,” he whispers softly, kissing her lips.

“Where?” Kiara takes a hit from the blunt.

“On vacation. Mexico, The Bahamas, Jamaica, Italy, I don't care.”

Harry knows he can’t go on vacation. There is way too much to be done at the club. His father would surely be disappointed in him. He  is supposed to be a leader. He can’t just leave. He has to make sure his people are taken care of. More importantly he has to make sure his Dad’s debts are taken care of.

A chill runs down Kiara's spine. She is unsure if Harry is being serious or if he is just high. “Harry…”

“Think about it. Vacation sex on the balcony. I can watch you prance around in a little thong on the beach.” His hand rubs circles on her back. “I can even fuck you on the beach.”

“We are not going on a vacation. Are you out of your mind? I just met you.”

Harry takes the blunt out of Kiara's hands and brings it to his lips. He taste a lingering strawberry flavor on the tip of the blunt from Kiara’s chapstick. “You feel it though right?”

“Feel what?”

Harry’s hand reaches out for Kiara’s cheek. “That racing feeling in your heart when you see me? Because I feel it. My heart drops when I see you because damn you're beautiful.”

He brushes a curl off from Kiara’s face.

“And what if I told you I think I’m falling in love?”

Kiara blinks. “Harry, you're high.”

“Those heart skips, that you feel. I think that's love.”

“Harry I- I don’t know-.”

Harry gently pulls Kiara on his laps, her knees on either side of him. He slumped slightly on the couch which gives Kiara room to perfectly slot herself in his lap.

“Beautiful, you don’t have to answer that now,” He tucks another loose curl behind her ear and takes another hit of the blunt then holds it in front of kiara’s face. “Let's just enjoy this.”

Maybe she is in love, or Kiara is just extremely high because they have finished the blunt. Harry is rambling on about math, while Kiara has contently tucked her head into his chest. She listens to the steady vibrations of his chest while he rambles on about starter stock investments that Kiara should have. She isn’t really listening to him, more so taking in his smell. It's like vanilla with a hint of something a little stronger. Even if she wanted to listen to him, she couldn’t because his hand is perched right up on her ass, rubbing in circles which is very distracting.

Harry is still rambling when Kiara here's a familiar tune play on the sound system.

Southside, Southside we're gonna set this party on fire.

Kiara hastily peels herself from Harry’s body and jumps to her feet. “Wait, turn this up, I love this song.”

Harry is a little confused about Kiara’s actions. He is still in the midst of his high and can’t really tell what she is doing but he turns up the music.

Harry grins when he hears the familiar tune. “I didn’t peg you for a Kanye West fan.”

Kiara displays her infectious smile that makes Harry want to drop to his knees for her.  

She turns around and begins to playfully sway her hips in front of Harry who is completely leaned back into the couch with his arms stretched out enjoying the show.

“Westside westside we gonna set this party on fire!” Kiara sings along with the music.

She turns around to face Harry, putting herself right in between his legs before she starts rapping. “She is so self-conscious, she has no idea what she doin’ in college. That major that she majored in doesn't make no money, but she won’t drop out and her parents will look at her funny.”

Harry grabs Kiara hip, keeping his eyes focused on Kiara’s lips and the words she continues to rap, “Now tell me that aint insecure, the concept of school seems so secure, Sophomore thear years aint pick a carrer she like, fuck it ill just say down and here and do hair cause thats enough moey to buy her a few pairs of new airs cause her baby daddy don't really care.”

Kiara continues to rap making silly hand gestures at Harry, and he just sits there mesmerized at the pure untroubled persona Kiara carries with her. She is truly having fun and Harry can tell just by her body movements alone. Kiara grabs Harry’s hands and pulls him up from the couch. She turns around to press her ass against Harry’s front to make sure he can feel her movements.

Harry raps lowly against her ear while Kiara continues to sway her hips back and forth, “She is so precious with the pure pressure, couldn’t afford a car, so she named her daughter alexis.”

Kiara continues for him, “She had hair so long that it looked like weave, then she cut it all off, now she looks like Eve, and she be dealin’ with some issues that you can’t believe. Single black female addicted to retail.”

The chorus plays and Kiara is looking back smiling widely at Harry. “Cmon I know you know the lyrics now.”

Harry lifts one arm that is in Kiara hands’ and twirls her around so she faces him. “Man, I promise, I’m so self conscious that's why you only see me with one of my watches,” Harry points to his gold blinged out watch, making Kiara laugh at him.

Harry continues, “Rollie's and Pasha's done drove me crazy. I can't even pronounce nothin', pass that Ver-say-see! Then I spent four hundred bucks on this.”

Kira quickly finishes the sentence for him screaming out on the balcony still in Harry’s arms, “Just to be like, Nigga you aint up on this!”

“And I can't even go to the grocery store, Without some ones that's clean and a shirt with a team,” Harry continues to rap the melody. He places one hand on Kiara’s lower back and the other right between her shoulder blade and dips her down.  Kiara arches her back across Harry’s knee and he brings his nose to touch Kiara’s who is completely thrown away by Harry’s dance moves. He raps along to the tune, “It seems we livin' the American Dream, But the people highest up got the lowest self-esteem.”

He pulls right back up, twirling her around again before placing both his hands on her cheeks. “The prettiest people do the ugliest things, For the road to riches and diamond rings.”

Harry tackles her in kisses, while Kiara is trying to squirm away from him. She almost gets out of his grasp but he quickly pulls her back in squeezing her ass playfully.

“I say, "Fuck the police," that's how I treat 'em We buy our way out of jail, but we can't buy freedom We'll buy a lot of clothes, but we don't really need 'em Things we buy to cover up what's inside.”

Harry recites the words with ease, and Kiara is unsure if he is aware of the political background behind them, however she is too high to get into that with him.

“'Cause they made us hate ourselves and love they wealth,” Kiara stands up on the couch and flicks her wrist like she is shooting a basketball, “that's why shorty's hollerin', "Where the ballers at!" Kiara shoots herself off the couch in Harry’s arm. The song is still playing in the background but both of them are completely out of breath laughing at each other.

“There is no way you just launched yourself off my couch.”

Kiara points a finger in Harry’s face, “There is no way you just rapped a Kanye West song with me! Kanye West! Why are you listening to Kanye West? I thought classical musical maybe-”

“We all self-conscious, I'm just the first to admit it, baby.”

Not only does Harry interrupt her and finish the lyrics smoothly, but the baby he adds at the end is what makes Kiara’s heart melt and she doesn’t even know why. Harry knew all the words to her favorite song. Every single one. Its stupid, but so endering to Kiara.

“I love this song.”

“I love it too,” Harry agrees.

“I think,” Kiara sighs, letting her head move closer to Harry’s. “I think I like this more than I should.”

“Me too.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

It's silent. The only thing they both hear is the sound of the fire cracking, and the New York breeze.”

Harry looks down at Kiara's lips. They are a light brown shade on the ends and a pinker shade toward the middle. They are full, kissable, sexy…

“Kiss me. Please?” Kiara asks.

“No.”

“Why?” Kiara's face scrunches in confusion.

“Because I need to be able to compose myself. If I kiss you, I might not be able to stop.”

“Right slow.” Kiara says.

“Slow,” Harry repeats.

“Can we still have dinner? I'm getting the munchies.”

Harry grins. “What do you want to eat?”

“Pizza. Good pizza though. Brooklyn pizza.”

“Alright well you have to get up if you want me to order it.”

“No,” Kiara protests like a baby wrapping her arms around Harry tighter. “ Don’t leave me now. You're warm. Let's just sleep now.  Pizza later.”

Harry didn’t realize how fast he fell asleep until he woke up because of Kiara’s light snores. He hasn’t slept that well since the last time they had sex. Now that he is really thinking about it, before he met Kiara he wasn’t sleeping at all. Usually he was way too stressed about work to sleep constantly worrying about things he had to do, and people he had to take care of.

Harry is about to doze off again when there's a knock on the glass door.

Kiara is still sound asleep and Harry doesn’t want to wake her up. He knows how tiring it must be to have to work and go to university all at once.

“Harry,” Trevor, Harry's assistant, greets politely. His eyes move down to Kiara, who is snuggled up against Harry's chest.

“Trevor. Are you okay? Did the breaker trip in the guest room again?”

Trevor and Harry have been friends since childhood. They went to the same elementary school and even college. Trevor helped Harry handle most of the financial stuff for the club, and he has lived in Harry’s guest house since they both graduated.

“No, the electricity is fine. However, your father and brother are both in the living room.”

“What. Why?”

Harry’s father never really came to visit him unless something went wrong at the club. His brother usually tags along to rub Harry’s mistakes in his face

“I can only assume it has something to do with the fact that you didn’t pay Dorian.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I didn’t pay Dorian because he is a disrespectful son of a bitch. If he has a problem with the fact that he is getting his money late he can bring it up with me, not my father.”

“You knew that was gonna cause problems Harry. Why are you being so impulsive about this? Dorian is not the kind of guy to mess with. What happened to the original plan you and I came up with? Keep Dorian happy until the debts are paid off?”

“Yeah well I’m tired of paying for my father’s mistakes.” Harry growls, causing Kiara to stir a bit.

“Should I escort her out?”

“No, leave her.” Harry brushes a piece of hair that was about to fall in Kiara’s mouth. “She is going to stay the night.”

Trevor tilts his head, confused. “Harry Styles, are you dating someone?”

Harry sighs,“No? Maybe? I don’t know Trevor. It's crazy we only just met, but I feel like I have met her in a past life or something. Everything is just so easy with her. So...fun.”

“You do know you're allowed to be happy right,” Tervor can’t help but remind his best friend of this. “You are allowed to do fun things. Like date.”

“What if something happens to me?”

“Nothing is going to happen to you Harry. James and I wouldn’t allow that.”

“You don’t know that. Feels like it was yesterday I almost died and you and James had to come rescue my ass.”

Harry remembers that day like it really was yesterday. It was only his first week taking over the mafia. His father was in some Caribbean country with his mum, leaving him to continue to work things out by himself. Before Harry understood the depths of the target he had on his head, he would walk around without security. Which caused him to get kidnapped by a past associate of his Dad’s because of an overdue payment his father never told him about.

He was there for four days. Getting pistol whipped left and right, cold water repeatedly being dunked on his head, even lacerations from knives. All for some stupid fucking money.

“Stop that,” Trevor says. “Stop thinking about that shit. We saved you and nothing like that is going to happen again.”

“Tell my father I will be there in a minute please.”

“Harry-.”

“I’m fine Trevor,” Harry assures his friend.

But who is he really trying to convince? Trevor or Himself?

Harry is able to wiggle himself away from Kiara. He leaves her laid across the sofa, and even pulls a blanket over her so she doesn’t get sick from the cold air.

When Harry enters his living room he sees his Dad first. He seems relaxed, a smile on his face.

“Son! It’s been too long!” Mr. Styles cheerfully exclaims holding his arms out for his son to hug.

Harry leans against the door frame, a frown on his face. “Evan? What are you doing here?”

“What! Am I not welcome in my own brother's home?”

While Evan and Harry are brothers, they look nothing alike. While Harry has a full head of curly locs, Evan sports a buzz cut. His eyes are hazel which he takes after their Dad, while Harry’s bright green eyes come from his mom.

“I just don't understand why you are here.”

Harry is doing his best to keep his composure. It is not like he hates his brother. He just has the life he wants. He is envious of the fact that he has a wife, lives in a normal house in the suburbs, two kids, and even a dog named Rocky.

So when his brother waltzes into his house with his father, it’s almost like a slap in the face.

“Enough of that,” Harry’s Dad walks between his two sons and puts a hand on either of their shoulders. “We are a family. Act like it.”

We haven’t been a family in quite some time. Harry thinks to himself but chooses to keep his mouth shut.

A beat of silence falls by. “Harry, I heard you are having problems with Dorian. Is everything alright?”

“It's fine,” Harry notices his Dad’s tan right away. It was his parents' anniversary and he remembers his Dad saying he was talking his mom to some island to celebrate.

“You can’t lie to us Harry,” Evan speaks up. “We are just trying to help keep you safe.”

Harry’s eyes stay down at the floor, looking at his feet.

“He is right, Harry. I’m just trying to protect you…”

“Three years to late for protection Dad! I can handle this. I definitely don’t need you or my brother meddling in my business.”

“Harry?” Kiara’s sleepy voice interrupts Harry’s Dad's response. Harry turns around to see Kiara who he thought would stay asleep wide awake. She is rubbing her eyes. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Harry? You never told me about a girl? What is your name love?” Harry’s Dad smiles joyfully walking closer to Kiara.

Kiara pulls at her sleeves awkwardly. “Oh. My name is Kiara. Is everything okay? I heard yelling.”

Harry quickly walks toward Kiara, Playing a hand on her back. “Sorry. Are You okay? Did you want to go back to sleep?” Harry talks loud enough so his father could hear him.

“Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t know Harry had company over. My name is Julian. Harry’s father.” He held out his hand.

Kiara blinks her sleepy eyes. “Kiara.”

“Evan,” Harry's brother introduces himself, also holding out his hand to shake.

“And you are?” Harry’s Dad's question.

“A Friend.”

“Friend.” Harry and Kaira speak at the same time.

They both look at each other with wide eyes. Harry clears his throat.

“She is a friend, a good friend actually.”

“I really didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just wait for you on the balcony Harry.”

“No. We clearly interrupted something. Stay, I insist. Evan and I will be on our way out.” Harry’s Dad sides eyes him and smiles. “Are you sure you both are just friends? I'm not an expert on relationships but I do believe that is a hickey on your neck..”

Kiara quickly covers both sides of her neck with the palm of her hands, embarrassed.

“Dad! Jesus christ.”

“What,” Harry’s Dad says innocently. “I haven’t seen you with a girl in years! And she is pretty! Are you sure you are not holding her captive here?”

Evan chuckles under his breath, only adding fuel to the fire.

“Alright. You two out.”

Harry's brother holds up his hands in defense. “We will leave you guys alone.”

Just as Evan and Harry’s father was about to leave a voice booms throughout the house.“Oh great! The whole family is here,” Harry instantly hears Dorian's voice behind him. Kiara jumps slightly, but Harry is quick to turn around and pull Kiara away from Dor ian.

He just looks just as intimidating as Kiara remembers him to be. His dark hair was gelled back, and his shoes clicked on the ground as he walked closer to where Kiara and Harry are standing.

“Kiara,” Harry whispers. “I need you to go back to the balcony. Close the door.”

“I’m not leaving you.” She whispers back.

“Kiara...please.”

“No.”

“Let the whore stay!” Dorian pulls at the cuffs of his suit, as he walks towards Harry and Kiara. His slightly heeled boots echo throughout the house. “The more the merrier or whatever bullshit that they say.”

Kiara launches herself at Dorian, which causes the buff men standing next to him to pull their guns and point them at Kiara.

“Let her stay. I want her to watch.”

“Harry...” Kiara’s shakily says as she watches the two men grab Harry by both his arms.

“Harry!” Kiara fully yells this time. She turns around to look at Evan. “What is going on! I don’t understand!”

“Hey,” Evan pulls Kiara back from stepping toward Harry. He softly turns her around so she is face to face with him. “I need you to take a step back. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What is going on!” Kiara yells. She can’t help the tears that begin to fall from her eyes, which mostly stem from the stress of the pressing situation unfolding before her eyes “tell me what the fuck is going on!” She yells in Evan’s face as he holds her close.

Harry knows what is about to happen. He knows Dorian’s men are going to give him hell. He knows the consequences of not making payments on time, but he didn’t think Kiara would be here to see them. Usually Dorian shows up at his job, threatens him but everything is usually resolved once Harry hands over the money.

However, Dorian isn’t fucking around this time. Harry doesn’t even think it's about the money. Dorian's ego is hurt. He has too much pride for his own good.

Harry looks up at Kiara, something he didn’t want to do. The anxiety has hit him like a train and he can hear Kiara’s frantic screams. Evan is holding her back, but she continues to thrash around in his arms, asking what is going on. He never wanted her to find out like this.

Secretly, he wished that she would never have to find out. That somehow magically he could date her while running the mafia, and that all his problems would be fixed within a year, and he wouldn’t have to tell her anything.

The first hit connected with the side of Harry’s head. Kiara watches Harry’s head snap backwards. His body slumps over, indicating that the first hit wasn’t an easy one to take.

He tries to pick his head up,with the intention to look at Kiara but gets punched again, this time with blood flying out of his mouth.

“Do something!” Kiara pushes at Evan’s shoulder. When he looks at her with pity she turns around to yell at Harry’s Dad. “Are you not going to do something?” She yells at Harry’s Dad.

“I can’t.” He regrettably responds. As Harry groans from another punch that hits him straight in the gut. “He needs to learn his lesson the hard way.”

“You're his father!” Kiara screeches so loudly that the men stop hitting Harry.

Dorian hums in agreement. “You're right. That is his father, and he loves this kid,”  He roughly grabs Harry’s curls pulling his head back upwards. Harry groans in pain, which causes Kiara to flinch in Evans arms. “But your father likes money better than his own kid.”

Call me when this shit is over,” Harry’s father grumbles, walking away.

Harry gets hit again, and this time Kiara lets out a loud scream.

“Fuck Evan. Turn her around!” Harry manages to yell

Evan flips Kiara around, and now she is crying into his chest.

“Get off of me! Please!” She yells trying to escape Evans arms.

“You keep that bitch there.” Dorian seethes pointing at Kiar and Evan.

“Kiara, look at me.” Evan pulls her face up to his. “I don’t want you to get hurt. There is nothing we can do right now. You can’t fight them. You are going to make the situation worse. We can help him after. He isn’t going to die.” Evan assures her.

“What do you mean he won’t die!”

Another punch lands on Harry’s gut, causing Kiara to visibly flinch.

“I’m saying Dorian needs him alive. We just have to wait this out and help him when Dorian leaves.”

Kiara watches at first. She watches as one of the men pulls tighter on the rope that has Harry’s hands bound together to make sure he can’t escape, while the other punches him in the face. At first Kiara thought she could hold it together. Originally, she thought that she could handle it. But when Harry looks up at her with a black eye, and blood running down his face, dripping onto her shirt, she turns around and hides her face in Evan’s chest.

The thing is Kiara knows what it is like to lose someone. When she lost her mom she thought that was the most unimaginable pain ever. She thought that the ache in heart, and the memories that she carried with her on her back would be her lowest. But then she lost her mom, and the burden of losing two parents was something that she couldn't handle. She eventually dissociated herself from people, her friends, and didn’t care about anything. There were lots of nights spent at sketchy bars, and even nights spent out on the street.

Not only does she want Harry to stay around, but selfishly she doesn’t want to go back to the lifeless person she used to be. Kiara knows that he can’t leave her or she will become the exact person she used to be. And it sounds absolutely insane because they only just met, but now she knows that she is undeniably in love.

Once Dorian is satisfied with the beating Harry received, he holds his hand up to signal his men to let off.

“Don’t fuck with my money Styles. Or you will have hell to pay.”

Evan is still holding Kiara closely. They both stay completely still and listen to Dorian’s footsteps while Harry is heavily breathing in the background. Once they can’t hear the steps anymore Evan speaks up.

“Okay. Untie his hands and help me get him up on the table.”

Kiara's shaky legs bring her to the back of the chair where Harry’s hands are tied together by a thin piece of rope. Her fingers fumble a bit, due to anxiety but she eventually undoes the knot, and Evan throws Harry over his shoulder with a grunt.

Kiara quickly follows Evan to the dining room table where he rests Harry’s limp body open. He unbuttons Harry’s shirt only to see the bruised marks all over his chest and abdomen.

“Fuck its worse than I thought. Stay here, please. Talk to him. Keep him awake I need to get a medical kit from my car.”

Kiara isn’t even given the chance to respond because Harry grabs onto Evan’s wrist before he could walk away.

“You ne- need,” Harry coughs. “You will not fucking touch me until you call Trina to get her,” He voice comes out raspy and dry.

“Harry dammit! I don't have time to do all that you are hurt!”

“You will do it or so god help me, I will get off this table and walk away. She has seen enough.”

Evan frowns at Harry. He knows there are certain parts of himself he doesn’t like to reveal to people, and this side of him is one of them. He doesn’t want people to know that he is hurt, because he is going to have to ask for help which will cause people to be dragged into his bullshit.

Harry doesn’t want anyone to fight his battles for him

Harry is stubborn and he just might actually lift himself off the table and try to stitch himself up if Evan doesn’t follow his commands.

“Alright,” Evan agrees. “I will call Trina. But you have to let me help you okay? I don’t want your wounds to get infected.”

Harry nods, but groans in pain as soon as he moves his head.

“Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t move.”

“Okay.” Kiara watches Evan walk out the door before she steps closer to Harry, putting both her hands on his cheeks. She quickly lets her eyes roam up and down Harry’s face, frantically accessing the damage.

“Please tell me you are going to be okay?”

“I will be okay Kiara. I just need you to get home safe okay? Trina will come and get you.”

“I can’t leave you,” Kiara sternly tells him, shaking her head. “Not like this.”

“You can and you will,” Harry croaks. “You don’t have a choice. You have already seen too much.”

“What? Why? I can help you get better. Please let me atleast help me. Tell me what's going on? Why did Dorian hurt you? Why is he talking about money? I want to help.”

Harry brings his hand up to cradle Kiara’s face. “I know you want to help sweet girl. But I don’t want you to see this. I can’t let you see me like this-

“I can handle it-”

“I know you can,” Harry cuts her off. “You're strong. But, I can’t risk you getting hurt if Dorian comes back here.”

“But I feel safer with you.”

Harry shuts his eyes tight to keep the tears from escaping. Kiara gently lays herself on his chest and Harry slightly closes his eyes.

“You feel safe with me?” He mumbles under his breath.

Kiara picks her head up to look at him. “So safe. I promise that. I just can’t explain it. And I know we haven’t known each other for long, but you are right. I do get that heart racing feeling when you touch me, and my heart does drop when I see you and I think that is love.” Kiara pauses at her confession. “I’m sorry. Your hurt, and now I’m rambling god I’m so fucking stupid-

Harry cuts her off with a kiss. Kiara is caught off guard at first, but lets her mouth relax into Harry’s. His hand floats to her hip and Kiara places a hand accidently on Harry’s bruised chest causing him to hiss in pain.

“Shit,” Kiara whispers breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Harry’s forehead is leaned on Kiara’s “It's okay. I’m glad you told me this. I feel the same way.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Harry smiles. “I still want you to go with Trina. I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire with Dorian if he comes back.”

“Please don’t make me leave you.”

“Only for a little bit love.”

“When can I see you again?”

Harry bites his bottom lip. At the end of the day, all he wants to do is keep the people in his life safe. So far, he has done a fucking good job with that. He can make sure Evan and his family doesn’t get hurt. He can definitely make sure his Dad stays safe no matter how much of a dick he can be. However, can he really ensure Kiara’s safety?

“I don't know,” Harry answers truthfully.

“Can you at least explain to me what's going on?”

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

Harry is about to come up with some bullshit answer, but he sees Evan walk through his front door with Trina and James following slowly behind his brother.

“Dammit,” James mumbles to himself. “Get her out of here,” He tells Trina.

Trina slowly walks towards her friend. She can tell Kiara is a little shaken up no matter how much of a facade she puts on.

“Kiara. We should go.”

“I’m not leaving! I’m not leaving him like this. Are you out of your mind!”

“Kiara!” Harry sternly barks, grabbing her hand. “You have to go. I’m not giving you a choice in the matter.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!”

“Yes I fucking do.”

That sets of fumes behind Kiara’s eyes and Trina see’s it clear as day. Kiara doesn’t like being told what to do. Especially if it’s from a man.

“Kiara he is right,” Trina softly says touching his shoulder. “The best you can do for him is leave because that's what is going to keep you safe.”

“Fine. But don’t fucking die on me.”

+++

“So are you going to tell me anything?” Kiara says calmly, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She takes a seat at her mahogany wood dining table and opens the bottle to take a sip.

The car ride home was completely silent. Trina knew it was best to give Kiara some time to cool off and to let her process what had just happened.

However, Kiara didn’t know how to process what happened. She already cried, got angry, and cried some more. What emotion was she supposed to feel watching the guy she was falling for get beat to a pulp.

“I don’t really know what I can and can’t tell you.”

“Okay I ask questions and you answer. Why the fuck did that dude from the club just show up and beat the shit out of Harry? No better yet, why did Harry’s Dad just walk away? Why did I have to leave? Also why did James come with you-.”

“Woah slow down. I’m not really sure what Dorian’s reasoning was. It could be a lot of things. As for Julian, he has a rocky relationship with his son to say the least. And like I told you before, James and Harry work together.”

“What is it that they do for work?”

“See, now you are asking too many questions.”

“Trina!” Kiara snaps slamming her water bottle on the counter. “You wanted me to get with Harry so badly, but as my friend you can’t let me walk into this blindly. What am I getting into here?”

“I know. I know. Trust me I want to tell you everything. I do, but I shouldn’t be the one to tell you. I couldn’t even tell you if I wanted to. The full story is so long, and I don’t want to mess anything up. I want you to know the truth and the whole truth about Harry okay? But only if he himself is willing to tell you.”

Kiara bites the inside of her cheek and closes her eyes. It has only been a little over twenty four hours, but she feels like today has been a lifetime.

“How about we go to his job tomorrow.” Kiara suggests.

“What? Harry isn’t really keen on unexpected visitors. Besides, don't you want time to process? That was a lot that happened tonight Kiara. Even I was a bit shaken up.”

“No, no. I’m fine. What I want is an explanation. I deserve that, right? And if he can’t give it to me then we shouldn’t be together.”

“Oh Kiara. Maybe rest on it? Harry wouldn’t keep things from you just to spite you.”

“It doesn’t matter the reasoning!” Kiara jumps from her seat and the dining table and starts pacing around. “I want to know what I’m getting into. I think he owes me that.”

“Okay. We can go to the club tomorrow. But I think you really need to rest-”

“I’m not going to have to watch him die right?” Kiara says out of nowhere. “B-b-because. I think I really like him Trina. And I can’t watch another person fall out of my life like that. Not like m-my Dad.”

With one choke of a tear, Kiara completely breaks down. Her head falls into her hands as she sobbs.  She thought she was doing a good job of holding it together. But the possibility ran through her mind of Harry dying, and she can’t handle that.

The idea of watching the guy she just met fizz out of her life is heart wrenching.

Kiara abruptly stands up, grabs on to the edge of the table and lets out an alarming yelping noise. She hunches over and pukes her breakfast out all over the kitchen floor.

“Oh my god Kiara.” Trina runs towards her friend, Gathering her curls into a makeshift ponytail. “It's alright. This will make you feel better.”

Kiara slowly picks herself up and leans her back against the table, wiping her mouth.

“Can you stay here? I think I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Kiara wipes a tear from her eye.

“Yeah. Of course I can. I just need to get my pregnancy pillow.”

Kiara laughs. “Your bump is getting bigger.”

“I know,” Trina beams. “James pointed that out yesterday. I’m excited to show my mom and Dad. I think I will invite them over soon. She wants to be here when the baby is born.”

“Are you craving some of that lasagna I usually make? We have a girls night?”

“Yeah but after you shower. You stink. Plus, I need to clean your puke.”

The night ended with Trina stuffing her face with lasagna and Clueless playing in the background. Kiara was still a little bit shaken up, but Trina knew that she would come around with time. Kiara picked at her food but didn't actually eat it and she couldn’t watch the movie. Eventually Trina fell asleep halfway through the film and Kiara found herself thinking more and more about Harry. She just wanted to know if he was okay.

No I shouldn’t do it. Kiara thinks to herself, eyeing her phone on her coffee table.

But one little text can’t hurt right? It will solve all my worries and maybe then I will be able to sleep.

Kiara: I just want to check in to make sure you are doing okay. Still alive and all that

Not even a minute later Harry responds.

Harry: I’m doing just fine. It's 2am. Please go to bed…. Maniac.

Kiara smiles.

Kiara: Okay. I’m really glad you are okay. I’m still really confused.

Harry: I know. I’m sorry.

+++

Kiara didn’t get any sleep.

While Trina was snoring like a cow, Kiara was racking her brain for all possible reasons why Dorian would want to hurt Harry.

Her first thought was drug dealer, and one thing Kiara knows for sure she is not dating a drug dealer.

Maybe he just has some bad history with the guy.

Whatever it is, she is going to find out today.

“Trina wakes up,” Kiara gently pushes Trina.

Trina rubs her sleepy eyes and pushes herself up with one arm, the other resting on her pregnant belly. “We don’t work today. Why are you waking me up?”

“We are going to see Harry today.” Kiara casually states picking up their leftover tupperware from last night and throwing it into the sink.

“You want to go to the club? It's ten am in the morning.”

“Okay, but Harry will be there right?” Kiara says washing the dishes.

“Yes, but this might not be the best idea you have had.”

Kiara drops the dishes in her hand and turns to face her friend who is on the couch. “Don’t I deserve to know?” Kiara hastily walks over to Trina. “I mean we practically said I love you!”

“Wait what? You two said you loved each other.”

“Yes!” Kiara yells out, dragging her hands on her face. “I mean we practically did! I was high, but he was talking about going on vacation, and he said he thinks he is falling in love! And I think I am too Trina.”

“Damn. That was fast.” Trina pushes herself off the couch. “Fine we can go visit you boyfriend, but at least let me shower.”

“It's gonna be okay you know,” Trina says to Kiara as she nervously picks at her nails during the car ride.”

“I know. I just really like Trina, and I don’t want anything to ruin what we have right now.”

“Hey. Everything is going to be fine okay? I wouldn’t put you in a situation that was dangerous.”

“Honestly, I’m more worried about him than I am about me.”

+++

The club looks much different in the daytime.

The first thing Kiara notices is that there are lots of people here, but none of them look like dancers or patrons of the club.

The lights are turned on and the chandlers shine bright on the empty chairs and reflect off of the marble countertop.

“Babe,” James walks toward them and the first thing Kiara see’s is the gun in his left hand. “You didn’t tell me you were stopping by for lunch today. It’s a bit busy-”

He cuts his sentence short when he realizes Kiara is standing right next to his girlfriend. “Oh, You brought a friend.”

“Why do you have a gun?” Kiara deadpans.

“Uhhh for protection?”

“What do you need protection from?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” James arches his eyebrow.

“What can I say? I'm a curious girl.”

“Okay!” Trina interrupts pressing her hands on James' chest forcing him to back away from Kiara. “Don’t worry she isn’t freaking out. We live in Brooklyn. This isn’t the first gun we have seen.”

“Trina. Why did you bring her here,” James grits in her ear.

She levels herself on her tiptoes to get on James height. “She wants to talk to Harry. And I know my best friend. Once she puts her mind to something I can’t stop her. I think this will be good for them.”

Kiara stands there awkwardly trying to decipher what James and Trina are saying.

“Fine,” James exclaims outwardly. “Look, I will take you to his office. But I can’t promise you he will be happy to see you here.”

Happy to see her? Kiara thinks back to all the moments they have shared together. All the intimate moments? She doesn’t expect him to be happy to see her, but she definitely doesn’t expect him to be mad, especially when he pretty much confessed his love for her.

James takes them down a dark hall and opens to large doors. Kiara notices Harry who has his head buried in his hands. A few papers at his desk below him.

Harry notices Kiara standing in the doorway. His Dad is talking, but he isn’t paying any attention. His focus is completely on Kiara.

The first thing she notices is his black eye. A few cuts on his face, and burn marks on his wrist from the rope.

“What is she doing here?” Harry stands up pushing his chair backwards.

“No. You don't get to act all surprised,” Kiara stomps over to Harry. “You slept with me! You basically confessed your love for me, made me fall in love with you, then I watched you get beat up-.”

“Okay.”

“I also threw up last night, because the thought of you dying-”

“Kiara,” Harry says again, lowly looking across the room realizing there are more people watching them.

“You can’t leave me!”

Harry grabs Kiara’s hands, intertwining their fingers together. “Look at me. Hey love, look at me. I’m alive alright. My heart is beating, I’m fine. Just a few scratches is all.”

When a few muffled cries escape from Kiara's lips, Harry's face softens.

“Out.” Harry commands. “Everyone out.”

James is the first to leave with Trina following slowly behind him. Julian looks up at his son giving him a warning look before waking off.

“C’mon. Let's get you to take a seat.” Harry gives Kiara hand a little tug, and gestures for her to sit on top of his desk.

He fits himself in between Kiara’s legs. “Hey,” He pulls her chin up with a finger, “I’m alive.”

“I know you are,” Kiara wipes a tear off with the back of her hand. “You can’t do that again.You fucking scared me.”

“I know. I know, but I’m here now and I’m willing to explain everything.”

“You are?”

“Yes because, I don’t want to lose you either.”

Kiara nods her head.

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before speaking. “The club isn’t just a club. I-, we push drugs here.”

“Oh,” Kiara states calmly. “Why?” “Because my family has been a part of a mafia for generations called Cosoleto.”

“Isn’t that italian?” Kiara questions.

“Yes it is. That's where it started. All the clubs we own in Italy, France, Spain, and some places in America do function as clubs but also function to do underground trades, mostly drugs.”

“Do you kill people?”

“What,” Harry says, taken off guard. “No. I mean not often. I try to avoid that.”

“Oh? Is your family italian? You have a British accent.”

Harry laughs. “Asking the important questions, aren't we?”

“Don’t make jokes!~” Kiara says, hitting Harry’s shoulder. “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

“I was raised in London. My Dad's side of the family is Italian. My Fathers parents are from Cosoleto. My Dad and Mom chose to raise my brother and I in London.”

“And how did you get in this mess in the first place?”

“My Dad wanted to retire. Really, it was between me and my brother to take over. My brother had just got into Med school, and was also engaged. I had finished my Undergrad at Columbia and didn’t really know where to go from there. It just seemed like my only option.”

“And what about Dorian?”

“That is a bit more complicated. My Dad and Dorian were friends once. Dorian was sort of like an investor. He lent my Dad a lot of money and would get a profit in return. However,  my Dad started stealing money from him. A lot of it.”

“How much.”

“Over 100 million.”

“Jesus christ,” Kiara whispers under her breath.

“I’m working to pay off my Dad's debts. It's hard to do without drawing too much attention to us. So it needs to be done methodically so know one gets into any legal trouble.”

“Why did your Dad steal from his friend?”

“He is greedy Kiara,” Harry admits. “It was never enough money for him.”

“This is a lot.” Kiara states.

“I know. I didn’t want to spring this on you all at once,” Harry nervously taps his foot on the floor. “Does this not freak you out?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay.” Harry says awkwardly.

“Okay.”

Quiet.

“Where does this leave us?” Harry asks.

“Why not where we originally started? Two people falling in love.”

“I think it's going to be more complicated than Kiara. I just told you I’m apart of the mafia”

“Why does it have to be complicated?”

“Kiara are you crazy?” Harry squeezes her hand tighter. “This is not some joke.”

“I know it’s not. But now I’m falling in love with you, so you can’t just kick me out of your life.”

“I’m falling in love with you too, and that is what scares me about all of this,” Harry confesses.

“Okay so why can’t we just be people falling in love.”

“Because I’m running an underground Mafia in New York City.”

“I think it’s kinda hot,” Kiara smirks, dragging her foot up in Harry’s thigh.

Harry grabs her face. “Are you on drugs?”

“No I’m not on drugs!” Kiara swats his hand away. “I just think it would be stupid for us to through what we have away!”

“Fine. If we are going to do this you can’t just show up here unexpectedly. I don’t want you around all this shit, okay? I want to be in a relationship with you but I couldn’t live with myself if I put you in harm's way.”

Kiara's cheeks grow warm. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“O- only- if you want to,” Harry stutters.

Kiara wraps her legs around Harry’s torso, pulling him close to her. He stumbles over his feet, but crashes into her lips, and he feels his heart skip a few beats just like when he first met her at the cafe.

“Does that answer your question?” she mumbles against his lips.

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Harry kisses, Harry gently wrapping his arms around her so she slowly lays flat on his desk.

“Whatever happened to slow,” Kiara teases.

“Slow jumped out the fifth floor window of my office the moment you strolled in here.”

3 years Later

To Harry, Kiara has never looked so beautiful.

Her curls have grown much longer from when they first met. They reach down to her mid back. She has also gained a bit of weight, but it's happy weight.

Her hips are more full, her stomachs push out just a little bit, and her love handles are slightly accentuated in the yellow sundress she wears. She is also much darker than her usual caramel color, and that's because they just came from their honeymoon in the bahamas.

Kiara has now adjusted to the rock that adorns her finger, and her new role as a wife.

They have had their ups and downs like any couple has. Granted their ups and downs have been very different due to Harry’s past job.

But that's now in the past.

And they both have grown so much. Harry has learned to not hold so much animosity towards his brother, and that it's okay to take life on breath at a time. With Kiara’s help, he has gotten used to cold showers and even loud noises.

Kiara's confidence has only grown with time, and she feels much more comfortable in her skin. She no longer feels like she may not be enough for someone, because she is enough for herself and secondly, her lovely husband and that's truly what matters.

“It feels so good to be home,” Kiara leaves her bags at the door and plops herself down on the couch.

She watches Harry roll in their luggage and she has never been so in love. Compared to when they first met, he looks very relaxed. He is tan from their vacation in the bahamas. Where they stayed at Harry’s Condo on the beach. The two week long vacation consisted of lots of mojitos, tanning to the point where Harry’s baby hair have curled up off his temples, fading in to blonde color, and honeymoon sex.

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other for the entire vacation, and that’s mostly because Kiara had bought a set of new bikinis she pranced around the condo with.

“It's nice to be back isn't it?” Harry sits down next to Kiara on the couch pulling her close to his chest.

“Yes. I missed our home,” Kiara hums against Harry’s chest.

Harry looks around at the bright Chandelier, the newly remodeled kitchen, their backyard which has their german shepherd puppy running around in. And for the first time in his life, he can say he built this. This is something he built for himself. Not to please his Dad, or to compete with his doctor brother.

“How do you feel about a kid?” Harry speaks.

“Excuse me?” Kiara turns her head to look up at her husband.

“A kid,” Harry shrugs. “I know you start your teaching job in a couple of months, but I’m home now. And with James overseeing the clubs… I dunno seems like a perfect time to start a family right?”

“I haven’t really thought about having a kid yet,” Kiara says, testing the waters. “I mean I’m not opposed to the idea, but we just finished our honeymoon and you are now done with the Mafia and with James taking over the clubs I thought maybe it would just be the two of us for a while.”

“No sweetheart, I totally understand,” Harry places a hand on Kiara’s lower back. “I know we talked about this before the wedding but I just wanted to know where you stand now. It's your body and I know you're gonna be the one to carry my child… our child around for nine months and I want you to be ready. But all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll be here.”

Kiara lets out a breath and leans more into Harry’s chest. “Is it selfish that I just want you to be myself? Even if it's just for a little bit.”

“No baby. When I was running the mafia I was...absent for a lot of our relationships. And I want to make up for that. I want to be there for you on your first day as a teacher, your first promotion, your birthdays, and eventually our kid when you decide it's time for that.”

“So for now just me and you, right?” Kiara asks, batting her lashes at Harry.

“Just you and me my love.”

Tag List

@summersylesxplr

[pinkoptics]

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

3. Hipsters / 16. Hippies

Erik detests hipsters and hippies and, to be honest, isn’t even sure what the difference is, nor does he particularly care. The things he will do for Charles…

Modern AU. Still have powers. Grumpy Erik. Adorable Charles. Meet Cute. Silliness.

3392 Words

*

Erik hated everything about this place.

Absolutely everything.

He could write a dissertation on its failings, which were abundant.

Its first sin was being directly across from his apartment building. When he looked out his window, he saw it. When he stepped out of the lobby doors, he saw it. When he pulled his car out of the parking garage, he saw it. It was an unavoidable part of every single day of his life.

Its second sin was what it had replaced. Previously, there had been a diner. A kosher diner. A diner that had tasted like his childhood. It had been a hole in the wall, never looked quite clean, but the coffee had been strong enough to caffeinate an elephant and the food almost as good as his mama’s. Most people had passed it by. Just another slightly dingy New York eatery that you didn’t give a second thought. Quiet. A refuge for those in the know. Then came the hipster gentrification, ruining not only his precious diner, but the neighbourhood in general.

Its third sin was its name. Plant. In and of itself the name ‘Plant’ was harmless, inoffensive. Just a word. It conjured images of a vegan eatery, bistro, restaurant, or maybe if taken 100% literally, a store that sold plants. All of which would have been fine. He had nothing against plants and, sure, he ate meat (kosher meat), but happily ate vegetarian dishes as well. But no, it was not a plant store or even a vegan eatery, it was a vegan coffeehouse. Coffee came from plants, Erik knew this, so the name passed on that technicality, but it did not scream ‘coffee.’ Why not ‘Bean’ if it needed to conform to the trendy one-word-naming that had for reasons unknown come with the gentrification. It was couched between ‘Table’ (a restaurant) and ‘Sweat’ (a boutique gym). Plant did not equal coffee, and that knowledge crawled under his skin every time he saw the stylized lettering.

Its fourth sin was the coffee. Erik wasn’t particularly picky about his brew, whether at home or out. Cheap diner swill, the finest Italian espresso, the Keurig at the office, the ridiculously expensive machine that produced the perfect cappuccino at Emma’s apartment, whatever. Plant’s beans were fine as beans went, the roast satisfactory, but then ruined with its accompaniments. They carried a variety of ‘mylks.’ Yes, with a ‘y’. He preferred lattes, and would have been fine with oat or almond— if only it was spelled with a fucking ‘i’. Every time he saw the pretentious letter, he felt the urge to take a sharpie and commit as many acts of misdemeanour graffiti as necessary until all the ‘y’s were gone.

Its fifth sin was its staff. He could have tolerated their always sunny dispositions (even if it were literally impossible for any customer service employee to be that happy all the time). He could have tolerated their ridiculous hipster (or was it hippy?) apparel, moustaches, beards and hairstyles (what was even the difference between the two?). What he could not handle was the way they called him ‘friend.’ Every. Single. Time. He could count his friends on one hand and none of them worked at Plant. Their ‘peace, love and joy’ vibe made him grind his teeth and wish he had a mutation that would allow him to send them back to the 1960s.

And yet…

“Good morning friend! Amazing day, right?” It was, in fact, pouring so hard the streets were borderline flooding. “Usual? Or do you want to try—”

Erik had long ago learned to immediately tune out the suggestions, but was sure he caught the word ‘sage.’ Who in their right fucking mind wanted sage in their coffee? Yes, he was inside the loathed establishment wasting precious brain cells wondering why anyone felt the need to mess with the simple perfection that was coffee and milk. Yes, he was there often enough that the employees knew him on sight. Yes, he had a usual order.

It wasn’t his fault.

It really wasn’t.

It was the fault of a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

This shouldn’t have been the case. The whole thing was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The entire story more at home on the W Network or Hallmark, than in his very real, not-a-rom-com, life. And yet, here he was, having his 24th latte with mylk in a row and questioning his very sanity.

It had all started, just over a month ago, directly in front of Plant. To this day, Erik wasn’t sure whose fault it had been. He’d been on his phone, eviscerating a junior partner for a monstrous fuck up, and so livid that he was not at all paying attention to his surroundings. The blue-eyed man he’d run into, however, had claimed equal distraction, so perhaps the blame rested on both of their shoulders.

They had crashed into each other— papers flew, his phone flipped through the air and they ended up in a heap on the sidewalk, Erik atop the smaller frame beneath him. Already late for work, already pissed off with the junior partner beyond reason, Erik had been ready to re-direct his anger and tear whoever it was a new one, when the aforementioned blue eyes had arrested the words in his throat. He had admitted this to no one. Hell, he barely admitted it in the sanctity of his own mind because he was not a 12 year old girl, but a senior partner in one of the most prestigious architecture firms in New York. He did not go soft over a pair of gorgeous eyes (except, apparently, that he did), particularly when he hadn’t even seen the face that went with the eyes, which could have been grotesquely unattractive (it wasn’t).

The mouth that went with the eyes was absurdly red and absurdly kissable. The face angelic. To his eternal, internal embarrassment he had thought that exact word— angelic. He wished he could have blamed his temporary insanity on hitting his head, but having fallen on top, he couldn’t. If anyone had a concussion it was the ocean-eyed, ruby-lipped angel man. The ruby lips had spluttered apologies in a gorgeous British accent (not something Erik had until now found to be a turn on) as they scrambled off each other, righting clothes and belongings.

“Your phone!” the man had moaned. “Is it all right?”

The screen did appear to have a crack, but in another moment of lunacy, Erik pocketed it before the Angel could see and muttered something about it being fine. Instead, Erik helped him to collect the papers that had fluttered every which way, including the road, where they were already being demolished by a steady stream of vehicles.

“I hope those weren’t important.”

The man laughed, it was a very nice sound. “Not as such, no. I’m sure my students will be delighted to hear that their papers were torn asunder. They already mock me for printing them at all. I could mark them on my laptop like a proper 21st century individual, but there’s something about the feel of paper and pen that I just cannot let go of. It’s— and, as I go on and see your expression, I realize a simple ‘no’ likely would have sufficed.”

What did he see in Erik’s expression? A man besotted? Enamoured? Smitten? Any other number of words he had never used in regard to himself or anyone else in his entire life? Fuck. Erik tried to school has face into its usual disdain for the world and ninety-nine percent of the people in it, but if he was as in control of his facial muscles as he was of his thoughts, he knew he was failing miserably.

Erik handed him the last of the papers they could possibly retrieve. “I agree— about the pen and paper, I mean.” He did. As incredible as design software was these days, he always started on paper. The precision needed to draw the perfect straight lines and angles of a new building gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction in a way little else did.

“Oh, well, glad I’m not the only one who hasn’t forsaken the old ways.”

His smile.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Erik cleared his throat. “Let me buy you a coffee.”

Had he just said that?

Traitorous voice.

Was he gesturing at Plant?

Traitorous body.

He’d never been inside. On principle. Apparently, principle flew out the window for charming British men with cornflower (cornflower?!) blue eyes. The man blinked those eyes, as though not expecting the kindness.

Erik gestured at the papers. “I’ve clearly set your work back and I’ve ruined your—” cardigan. Erik blinked as his clothes came into focus. The man he was suddenly, desperately, attracted to was wearing a baggy, grandpa cardigan. Erik began to wonder if he had never woken up that morning. Maybe he was still in bed, across the street. Maybe this was a fever dream.

“Oh! I’ve dozens more just like it. It’s nothing.” He swatted ineffectually at the dirt covering one sleeve.

“Please.”

The man cocked his head. “Well… all right.”

So Erik had. In the end it had been a tea, not coffee. Earl grey with mylk. The interaction had ended there, awkwardly. Most likely his own fault. He didn’t do flirting with random strangers he’d just plowed into on the street. He didn’t generally do flirting at all. Moreover, he was now very late and had the junior partner’s fuck ups to fix before this afternoon’s meeting with their client. So, he’d left, stumbling over his goodbyes.

The day that followed hadn’t afforded much opportunity to think on the chance encounter. Not with employees to castrate and clients to placate. It wasn’t until he was home, looking out the bank of front windows at Plant that his thoughts drifted back to Blue Eyes. Which was, unfortunately, what he had christened him in his head because he’d never gotten the man’s name. Erik had gone to bed, mind clouded with thoughts, dreamt of him, and woken up with those same thoughts. Emma had always said his was one of the most disciplined minds she had ever encountered.

So much for that.

It was only a complete loss of that discipline that could possibly explain why he’d unnecessarily crossed the street the next morning and entered the obnoxious establishment for a second time, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes had immediately scanned for a mop of just overlong brown hair (yes, he’d noted that too, as well as just how much he wanted to run his hands through it). When they’d landed upon said hair, curling delightfully upon Blue Eyes’ forehead, Erik had been genuinely surprised. This clearly made the man a Plant regular, which should have been a point against him — a massive point — yet here Erik was, seeking him out regardless. Blue Eyes had looked up at him then, gifting him with a smile and acknowledging him with a nod, before returning to a set of what Erik had to guess were re-printed term papers.

Such was the story of how Erik had become a regular customer with a regular order.

Most days Blue Eyes was there before he came in, sometimes working on laptop or in a notebook, other times reading a book or a journal. Erik had caught a title once — The Oxford Journal of Genetics — which led him to conclude, that along with clearly being a professor, this proved the man must have a brain to back up the looks. Another point in his favour, as Erik had no patience for stupidity, no matter how pretty a package it came in.

Erik’s day was such that he usually needed to take his order to go. The few days where he could scrape together a few extra minutes, he grabbed his own table. He hadn’t once attempted to kid himself that it was because he enjoyed the ambience— that level of denial would have been absurd. No, it was clearly so he could spend a few extra minutes trying to stare, in a way that wasn’t blatantly obvious, at his… crush. Crush. He might as well think the word because that’s what it was. Only days after meeting him, Erik had caught himself, pen poised, about to doodle hearts on his notepad at a meeting. The mental pinch and knowing look Emma had sent his way had made him extra testy for the rest of the day. The wide berth everyone but Emma had given him was a testament to that.

And yet…

He never approached Blue Eyes. They exchanged nods, occasional hellos, but never anything more. Out of all of his out of character behaviour — and there was a lot of it at this point — this rattled him most. Erik had a reputation in professional and personal circles. He was confident, forbidding, occasionally arrogant, and brazen in pursuing designs no one else thought possible to execute. Erik went after what he wanted in life with borderline fanaticism.

He did not sit and observe from afar, mentally warring with himself, while also berating himself, for not having the balls to ask to join him, or buy him another tea, or inquire as to what he was reading. There were any number of conversational openings, but 24th latte in, he still hadn’t taken any of them. With each passing day the side of him that decided against it (or ‘chickened out’ as the nastier part of his mind supplied) became stronger and stronger. Blue Eyes hadn’t engaged with him either. Maybe he wasn’t gay. Maybe Erik wasn’t his type. Maybe he was already in a relationship. The chances that he was being just as melodramatic as Erik was being in his own head seemed slim. So, Erik continued to act foolish — alternately wondering how long he would continue to do so and how good a kisser Blue Eyes might be with lips like that.

It was on latte #26 that everything changed— no thanks to Erik.

He had decided to sit at a table that day and engage in his usual ‘I’m staring but I’m not staring’ routine. He was in the ‘not-staring’ portion, scrolling through his emails without really paying attention to any of them, when he was startled out of it by the chair across from him suddenly becoming occupied.

Blue Eyes.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“Wha—”

“You come in here every day. Every day. Sometimes you stay, sometimes you don’t. It’s baffling because there is one thing I know for certain— you hate it here. No, you loathe it. And, there are literally dozens of other coffee houses within walking distance. You clearly don’t belong—” Blue Eyes gestured up and down at what was likely Erik’s three piece suit, then at Plant in general, where there wasn’t a single person so much as sporting dress pants. Erik counted at least two man buns, one head of dreadlocks and a form of baggy pants Erik didn’t even have a name for. “—and I am fascinated by things that don’t belong. Things that don’t make sense. Puzzles. You don’t make sense. There is no way the coffee is that good. And yet, here you are. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Charles.”

Blue Eyes — no, Charles — extended his hand across the table and, reflexively, Erik took it, shaking it gingerly.

Charles laughed. “I don’t bite. I entirely talk too much, ask anyone, but I don’t bite.”

Erik rather wished that he did.

“How did you— my suit?”

Thankfully, Charles seemed to follow his meaning. “Oh no, the suit is only corroborating evidence. As is the way you look down your nose at everything in here. It’s your mind.” Charles tapped his temple. “Telepath. I swear to you I haven’t dug any deeper than the surface swirl of utter distaste for this establishment. Then I’d know, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t be here asking.”

Telepath. Blue E— Charles was a mutant. Erik was fairly certain his knees went a little weak. Good thing they were sitting. However… what on earth could he say? ‘I’ve essentially been stalking you’ hardly seemed like an opener that was going to get him where he wanted to be. Erik cleared his throat, buying time, as those keen eyes continued to look at him expectantly. While Erik wasn’t verbose, he also never found himself at a loss for words, except for here and now, where the truth was exceptionally embarrassing.

His pause, it seemed, went on too long because Charles jumped back into the fray. “Good lord, I’ve ambushed you, haven’t I? Clearly, you don’t have to answer the mad man who mowed you down on the sidewalk and then ambushed the peaceful solitude of your morning coffee. I apologize and will bugger right off if you tell me to. However, if it helps any, I don’t like it here either. It’s trying too bloody hard to be ‘on trend,’ isn’t it? For a cultural subset who pride themselves on not being pretentious they’ve entirely failed, haven’t they? And, I’m English, I know pretentious.” He laughed self-depreciatingly at that.

A beat for his mind to catch up to the second verbal barrage and Erik finally had a response. “If you like it as little as I do, then why are you here?”

Charles’ mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’ of surprise. He scratched the back of his neck and, for a moment, looked everywhere but Erik. “Blast. I’m caught, aren’t I?”

His cheeks reddened adorably. Since when did Erik find anything adorable? Since now, apparently. This man broke all of his rules.

Charles gave an adorable (christ) little shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose I best come clean.” He looked Erik squarely in the eye. “You’re gorgeous. You bought me tea. I came back thinking I’d ask you out. But you’re so… I lost my nerve. Have been doing the same daily ever since.”

“I’m so… ?”

The cheeks reddened further.

“Entirely too gorgeous for me.” Charles gestured at today’s grandfatherly cardigan. “Besides that—”

“You’re perfect.”

Fucking hell. When had his mind decided to say things without his permission?

It produced another, adorable, surprised little ‘o’. “I’m sorry— What?”

In for a penny…

“I had never set foot in Plant before we crashed into each other. Never would have because I do hate everything about it. Everything except you, who I thought were a regular—”

“I thought you were a regular.”

“— and wanted to ask you out.”

“I’d never been here before ei— you wanted to ask me out?”

They stopped, collective words sinking into respective minds.

Charles threw his head back, laughing. “If I didn’t know better—“ He tapped his temple again. “— I’d think you’re having me on.”

His laughter was infectious and Erik found he was smiling despite himself. He gave his own little shrug. “I don’t lie.”

“No, you don’t, do you? I can’t believe we both—”

“Me either.”

“This is too much. Wait… Why are we still here?”

“I’m sorry?”

Charles leaned forward and plucked Erik’s latte with oat mylk from his hand. “Can I buy you a coffee? A real coffee? Where they know how to spell the word milk? At the cafe I actually frequented before I began co-starring with you in a romcom so terrible my sister wouldn’t even watch it?”

He was already standing up, as if assured Erik would say yes, which every single bone in his body was blaring loudly for him to do. It didn’t seem to matter to any part of him that he would be blowing off work, a thought he discarded as quickly as it appeared. Just another out of character thing to add to the list. He followed. “I’m Erik, by the way.”

Charles looked back, as he collected his belongings, and grinned sheepishly. “I know.”

That was the last time Erik set foot in Plant until exactly a year later. He ordered latte #27 with Blue-Eyed Charles on his arm, after having crossed the street from their apartment, to celebrate their first anniversary. As Charles smiled at him over his Earl Gray with mylk, Erik found he couldn’t quite hate the damned coffee shop as much as he had before.

[be11atrixthestrange]

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a very complicated coffee order. Prompt: Meet Cute

Top 4 in the 2021 Romione Ficlet Fest!

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Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

It's seven o'clock on a Monday, and the morning rush is in full swing at The Burrow. Forming a line out the door and around the block are dozens of important, yet fidgety business people with complicated coffee orders, and little patience.

Ron Weasley opens every morning, Monday through Friday, and he handles it well. Most customers are regulars, and he's already memorized their morning joe specifications.

The majority of the morning crowd has been forgiving of the occasional slip-up. Seven years of working the first shift at the family-owned coffee shop means a history of accidental extra-whipped cream, almond milk instead of soy, and finger-slips on the espresso machine, and the customers always return.

Maybe it's because they're too tired to notice their Americanos are actually Flat-Whites. Or maybe it's the hospitable vibe of The Burrow that makes complaining about bad latte art seem as petty as telling Grandma her muffins are dry.

Every now and then, there's a new customer, and Ron has to whip out his earnest, people-pleasing attitude to assure that the newbie sticks around. He'll do what it takes to turn them into a regular, and make them thankful that they chose the local joint over the cookie-cutter corporate shop across the street.

'Take an interest in their day!' his Mum would say. 'Validate their order! Then make sure to ask their name, and use it!'

Monday morning, at seven o'clock, is one of those times.

"Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato."

"Size?"

"Medium."

The customer is about Ron's age, and probably new in town. She doesn't yet know that at The Burrow, 'Double Macchiatos' are simply called 'Tall Macchiatos', and instead of 'small', 'medium', and 'large', The Burrow's sizes go by their family pets in order of mass: Pig, Errol, and Chudley.

"Great," he says, grinning, "coming right up."

"Make sure it's almond milk," she reminds him.

"Yup."

"And Hazelnut," she adds.

"Yup."

"Double-shot—"

"I heard you," says Ron impatiently. Have a little trust, lady.

"Okay, just making sure!"

"Can I get a name for the order?"

"Hermione."

Ron stares at the girl. Her brown eyes are round and drowsy, her hair is unkempt and wild, which contradicts the clean lines of the business suit she's wearing. She looks so normal. "Can you repeat that?"

"Hermione. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E."

He hadn't asked her to spell it, and the way she emphasizes each syllable reminds Ron of how adults would read to him when he was a kid. It's condescending.

"Coming right up, Hermione."

"Great."

Ron resists rolling his eyes. He can handle a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato, and if he screws it up, she probably wouldn't even know the difference. Most customers wouldn't.

As Hermione paces by the counter checking her watch, he whips up a medium, double, hazelnut, almond milk ...cappuccino. Just to test his theory, of course.

"Here you go!"

He hands the drink to Hermione and watches as she takes a sip. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, he's convinced she can tell…

Then her face melts back to a polite grin. "Thank you!"

Maybe she can't. Ron shakes his head as she turns and leaves, turning his attention to the next customer's order.

Hermione returns on Tuesday morning at 7 am sharp. Her hair is pulled back into a stiff, tight ponytail that just barely lassos her wild mane, and she probably checks her watch fifteen times while in line. Ron suppresses a scoff—she can just make coffee at home if she's in such a rush.

"Morning, Hermione!" he says with a forced smile. "Same as yesterday?"

She looks taken aback at first, clearly not expecting him to remember her name. "Um, yes, same as yesterday."

"Coming right up."

"Medium, Double, Hazelnut—"

"Almond Milk Macchiato," he says. "I got it."

"Okay," shrugs Hermione, eyebrows raised. "Then do it."

What's her problem? "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she snaps. "I need coffee, not a counseling session."

Wow. He wants to retort back, but his mother's nagging voice in his head stops him. 'Always be extra-polite to grumpy customers; remember they haven't had their coffee fix yet.'

"Of course," Ron says through gritted teeth, in as polite a tone as he can manage. To satisfy his desire to argue, he whips her up a medium, double, hazelnut soy macchiato, only half-hoping she doesn't notice.

He doesn't get a chance to see if she does, because she's out the door before a single sip.

Her Wednesday return is accompanied by a looming dread in the pit of Ron's stomach. He hates rude people, especially at 7am. Ron spots her impatiently tapping her foot in line, as usual, and prepares himself for their interaction.

"Hello," he says politely, stopping himself before the natural 'how are you?' escapes his lips. "What can I get for you today?"

"Hi," she says with a sheepish smile. "The same as yesterday."

"Which is?"

"Erm," she stammers, her expression confused, "a medium—"

"I'm kidding," he laughs, "I know your order."

"Oh. Thank you."

She pays, and Ron fixes her a medium double caramel almond milk macchiato.

"Sorry about yesterday," she says when she picks up her drink. "You were just trying to be nice, and I was rude."

"Oh," starts Ron, who isn't expecting an apology. "That's okay. Happens a lot during the morning shift."

She smiles and nods before turning around to leave, taking a sip on her way out the door. Ron watches for her reaction, but doesn't catch it.

She seems to be in a better mood by Thursday.

"The usual," is all she says when she arrives at the counter, but this time she's smiling. She looks different when she smiles—pretty. Something else unidentifiable replaces the dread in his stomach. Ron wonders if it's the first time he's seen her smile or if it's just the first time he's noticed.

But based on the tired circles under her eyes, she's exhausted, so Ron prepares her a medium triple hazelnut almond milk macchiato. An extra shot of espresso never hurt anyone, and maybe it'll help her get through the day. Or maybe, she'll experience a coffee crash and have to return to The Burrow later.

Both good things.

"Just so you know," she says as Ron hands over her cup, "it's been a stressful week. I started a new job, and it's not going well."

"I'm—I'm sorry to hear that," says Ron. He looks into her eyes, and for a moment, they soften. There's more to her tough and professional exterior.

"These have made the week just a little better," she adds, holding up her macchiato, before smiling softly and turning to leave.

Of course, Hermione requests her usual on Friday, and Ron is quickly running out of ideas for ways to screw with her order.

In celebration of the weekend, he might be able to pass a large off as a special treat. Other than that, he has to stick to the request—a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato. The first of the week. Better not mess it up.

As soon as he pops the cap onto her cup, it looks empty. He reaches for his marker again and scribbles something else—his phone number.

He's not sure what compels him to do it. Maybe it's because the larger size leaves so much white space. It could be because the grumpy brunette has been occupying his thoughts all week — he's never purposely tried to fuck up someone's coffee five days in a row.

Or maybe, it's because when she walked in this morning, he smiled, and he just wants to learn more about the woman who thinks she knows what a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato tastes like.

She'll probably ignore it anyway.

But later that day, his phone buzzes on the counter, and he scrambles for it faster than he'd run away from a mob of spiders.

The text is from an unknown number, but there's no mystery. It only took five days, but you finally got my order correct!

Ron scowls at his phone. She knew? She was duping him?

Well, Hermione, why'd you keep coming back?

As soon as the message sends, he's impatient, tapping his foot, pacing, and jittery. Just like Hermione every morning.

His phone flashes and buzzes, and Ron almost drops it by checking too quickly.

It wasn't for the coffee…

[superangsty]

ok ficlet prompt: tomgreg coffeeshop au but Tom is the barista and he's a total bitch about it. up to you whether this is a) an au where they don't know each other at all or b) post season 2 au where tom is on the outs. basically i just think it'd be funny to see tom forced into doing menial labor and taking it out on customer!greg by belittling his order. if you hate this, you never saw it lol

fsdgfgfdhs I feel like I didn’t get much snarkiness in there and I’m not sure if 1k+ words can still be called a ficlet, but here we go!

///

Tom doesn’t normally pay attention to customers. Sure, some of them you get used to when you’re seeing their miserable faces day in, day out, and for an even smaller percentage you remember their orders and sometimes, if you’re feeling particularly generous (or bored, either works), you let the ones who look like they’re about to cry skip the queue, but for the most part the hundreds of faces he sees each day blend together.

Hard, though, for a face to blend in with the others when it’s a foot above everyone else in the store.

It’s eleven in the morning and the rush is on, but every time Tom looks up from the till or coffee machine his eyes automatically dart to where this guy is standing in the queue, just briefly before he gets back to what he was doing.

When the guy gets to the front of the line, he smiles and says “hey, how are you?”, and for the first time in his years in this job Tom smiles back.

Then he goes and ruins it all by ordering a skim milk vanilla mocha latte with, and this is a direct quote “some kinda sprinkle things?”. Asshole.

 *

 He comes back the next day, in mid-afternoon when it’s quieter and Tom’s the only one behind the bar (and thank god for that, because after he’d left yesterday Tom had got honest to god wolf-whistles from the others).

“Hi,” he greets, still with that carefree smile. He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “How’re ya doing?”

“I’m great,” lies Tom. “What’ll it be?”

“Um, an iced almond-milk macchiato with, like, do you have some caramel? Like a lot of caramel?”

This guy had better not become a fucking regular.

 *

 He becomes a regular. Every day for a week, and never at the same time, he comes in and orders a new, somehow even more ridiculous drink than the one before. It’s infuriating.

Still, Tom can’t help but notice things about him. His hair needs a cut, he’s carrying a backpack that needs to be thrown out, like, ten years ago, and his suits are cheap but if Tom knows his shoes – and he does know his shoes – he’s wearing a pair of Crockett & Jones oxfords.

A line has to be drawn somewhere. Luckily, the guy draws the line himself when he comes in one day, 10pm, and asks for a cappuccino with four shots of espresso.

“Absolutely not.”

“What, why?”

Tom cocks his head, frowning. “Because you would have a heart attack, that’s why, and I don’t feel like dealing with a lawsuit.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ve had it before, actually, so.”

“Then get it somewhere else.” Tom waves a hand towards the door when the guy doesn’t move, just stands there with his eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. “Shoo!”

 *

 He comes back the next day, orders himself a herbal tea, and introduces himself as Greg. Weird and unnecessary, as far as apologies go, but whatever.

 *

 Greg starts ordering normal drinks. Tom keeps on making ridiculous sugary crimes against humanity for him, and then telling him he’ll get diabetes when he accepts them. This is not flirting.

Greg starts staying to sit and drink in the café, rather than rush out. Sometimes he reads the newspaper, sometimes he flicks through paperwork. Sometimes Tom gives him one of the day-old cookies that are normally claimed by staff. This is still not flirting.

One day, there’s snow and no customers, and Greg says “hey, Tom, why don’t you sit with me for a bit?”, and Tom does.

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, each sipping at their respective drinks, and then Greg asks “so you been working here long?”

“Couple of years,” Tom replies. “Came into some money, saw the storefront for sale, thought ‘why the fuck not’, right?”

He’s gotten very good at keeping this part vague. The money had come wrapped in the neat little bow of ‘redundancy package’, when in reality it was hush money in response to the breakup and the breakdown and the subsequent NDAs.

It’s not what Tom thought his life would be. It kinda sucks, actually, but whatever.

“Oh!” Greg says, again with those wide eyes of his. “I – I didn’t know you owned it, um, sorry? If I offended you?”

Tom waves it off. “New to the city?”

“Ha, yeah,” Greg says, smiling into his cup. “How could you tell?”

Everything about you, Tom wants to say. “You’ve just got a vibe,” he says instead.

A customer walks in, and the conversation is cut short.

 *

 This keeps happening. It’s like Greg knows when Tom won’t be busy, and he chooses those exact times to show up. It’s annoying, really. He’s annoying. And Tom isn’t flirting.

A couple of months later Greg walks in during the mid-morning rush with another, significantly shorter (not that it’s hard), man in tow.

Tom takes one look at him, unties his apron, and walks into the back room.

Kendall fucking Roy.

Of all the coffee shops in all of Manhattan, he had to come into Tom’s. Of all the customers in all the coffee shops in all of Manhattan, Tom had to befriend the one guy who just happened to know his ex-future-brother-in-law.

He stays back there until he hears Greg’s voice disappear out the door again.

 *

 “I brought my cousin by here yesterday, told him it was the best coffee in the city.”

The next day, Greg is back at his normal time and is sitting in his normal seat. Tom is reluctantly sitting across from him.

Cousins, jesus fucking christ, it keeps getting worse.

Also, Tom’s coffee is only okay. Greg should probably try some new cafes.

“And what did he think?”

Greg shrugs. “I don’t know, he said it was only okay. He also saw you walk into the back? Said ‘hey I know that guy’?”

“I used to work at Waystar Royco.”

Greg smiles incredulously. “No way! That’s where I work too!”

“Mm, nothing like a good bit of nepotism in the workplace, is there?” Tom bites out. But it’s not like he’s bitter, or anything. That would be hypocritical.

“Oh, ha, I guess.” Greg shifts awkwardly in his seat, like he’s worried Tom will think less of him. “So you used to work together?”

“Used to be engaged to his sister, too.”

Greg doesn’t drop his cup, but it’s a near thing. He gapes at Tom. “You’re Tom Tom?”

Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. He wonders what they’ve been saying about him, whether Greg’s important enough to know the real story or if he got the version they feed their friends and colleagues.

Not that it matters, because there’s no way Greg’s coming back after this. There’s no way Tom would want him to come back.

“I think you’re done, Greg. I’ll clear up your cup.”

Greg looks like he’s going to say something, but Tom walks away and doesn’t look at him until he leaves.

 *

 Against all odds, he comes back the next day. And the next.

[lannisterdaddyissues]

Your turn to do all the cafe asks haha

soooo sorry i'm taking so long to answer my asks!!! i have an exam today and an exam tomorrow so i've been busy as HELL lately

anyway thank you for this wonderful ask allison i love you to death <3

cinnamon latte— would you ever want to dye your hair? if you have before, what color was it and why? hmmmmmm i wanted to get pink streaks in my hair back when i was 13 bc i was a cringe fail middle schooler lmao. my mom finally agreed after 6 months of begging and when we bought a DIY kit at walgreens, it turned my whole head purple for 3 days and then washed out. i'm glad it didn't work anyway bc i'm not one for dyeing my hair or other such cosmetic ventures. my mom does redo my blonde highlights every few weeks tho!

peppermint cappuccino— what’s your favorite genre of movie, tv show, or video game and why? hmmm idrk if i have a favorite genre tbh. i love action, comedy, sci-fi, thriller, romance, drama, anything! i think my favorite movies to watch are the ones based on true stories though. that's not really a genre in and of itself but those stories are always the most incredible to me because they really happened! as for tv shows, i like to watch anything really, but mostly stuff with violence in it. for video games i like strategy-based games like fire emblem and pokemon!

warm mocha— would you rather be in a sunny field of flowers and grass, or would you rather be in an ambient cafe with rain outside? a sunny field of flowers for sure :)

caramel macchiato— do you sleep with stuffed animals? if so, do you have a favorite? i do! i only have one with me at college, my parents bought me a new stuffed cat the day i started my first semester :) she's weighted and microwaveable to help with period cramps and she's also scented with jasmine to relax the nerves! you have no idea how overjoyed i was when they gave her to me, it just felt like the perfect gift showed up right when i most needed it

vanilla chai— do you have any hobbies that your followers don’t know about? or any hobbies that you once had, but stopped doing? i post sometimes about tennis, but besides that i also play the piano and i LOVE jet skiing. the other day i went out on our jet ski with my dad and we kicked it up to over 60mph which was the best fucking thing i have ever experienced in my life

strawberry milk— what’s your way of showing someone you love them, platonically or romantically? i tease them, i buy things for them, i spend time with them, and i open myself up to them. most importantly though, i just tell them (if it's platonic at least. if it's romantic i might just die before doing that)

iced frappe— how quickly do you fall asleep? do you only go to bed when exhausted so you fall asleep quickly, or do you lay in bed with the world on your mind? eh takes me about an hour, give or take. and i definitely lay in bed with the world on my mind, that is for sure

hibiscus tea— how often do you stay up all night instead of sleeping? what was the reason you stayed up all night? never. never. never. never. i could never do that. people who pull all-nighters are monsters. they don't deserve to be classified as human. i need my sleep or i can't function properly. regularly scheduled hours are where it's at my dude

cold brew— what percent is your phone on right now? 80%! for once. i got a new phone this past weekend, my old one would have already been down at 20% by noon.

steamed espresso— do you like roller coasters and other thrill rides at amusement parks? why or why not? i LOVE roller coasters, it's all about the need for speed with me (as evidenced by my love for jet skiing)

almond milk— would you ever want to plan a road trip with friends? or would you rather visit one area and enjoy what’s there? maybe! i wouldn't mind bringing some friends of mine back to my house or going to meet their families either. aside from that, i wouldn't want to leave the city with them because i hate to waste gas and/or time.

[quarantingz]

start again.

1 april, wednesday

10.57am

Today started a little different. Slower. Later (by 30mins past 8am this time). A little colder, which could be explained by the surprising fog I saw peeking through my blinds this morning. Not to be dramatic or anything, but it felt different, a change in the air. Something slightly off…not in a bad way at all, more so a sweetness like a light dusting of chocolate powder on a regular cappuccino with almond milk (because we’re all about that lacto-free lifestyle).

It is 1st April 2020, the first day of the month, day six of New Zealand’s quarantine lockdown. Maybe the shift in the air is partly because it is the first day of the month and I’ve always been a fan of “starting again”. And I guess for me, the start of the month stands for the start of a new leaf, a new chapter, a throwaway of the last month and all the baggage and work that comes with that. With this pandemic looming over every loaf of bread eaten and dinner table conversation, I can’t help but feel slightly excited about the rest of this month and maybe a little bit hopeful. Ok. Maybe a lot hopeful.

As I chew through my mum’s lovingly home-made, first-attempt, sourdough bread, a little chewy but no less yummy, I think about my life pre- and post-lockdown announcement…I was working part-time at the Gateau House, a cake shop with a very high standard of what it meant to make a DAMN GOOD coffee. Whilst only part-time, I was going in three to four days a week, I could tell you who our regular customers were for morning, day and night, AND their coffee orders and milk preferences. I was going in with my dad everyday, waking up at 5.30am so I could squeeze in a workout, shower and get ready for work. I hate feeling rushed, so an early early wake-up call is vital for me. It didn’t matter if I had a morning, day or night shift, I’d arrive at the Gateau House, to my boss Flo’s recurring surprise, at 8.30am. Before or after my shift, my routine involved making a mocha with exactly a pink and white marshmallow, which slowly turned into a cappuccino with zero marshmallows, because I felt guilty for going through a packet so fast haha. I’d sit down with my blue Muji pen in hand and my A6 black diary to write a to-do list. I’ll never get tired of writing lists, in fact, they provide necessary structure for my life.

Anyway, in between working long shifts starting at 8am or ending at 10pm, I was juggling multiple freelance work, passion projects and free work that I couldn’t say no to for my friends. To say the least, I was busy. And I loved it.

My life was so busy to the point where catchups with friends felt more like appointments booked two weeks in advance and my calendar couldn’t handle the excessive amount of highlighter signifying several meetings and deadlines for that week. But it wasn’t only me who was busy, but my friends, my family and even the whole world it seemed. This weird bubble I was living in challenged me and kept me moving and repeating everything all over again the next day. This rhythm made me feel like I was doing something with my life post-graduation. Side-note, this routine didn’t make me feel bored, which I guess my random shifts, diversity of projects and regular meet-ups kept things interesting.

Despite feeling overwhelmed, minus all the negative connotations to this word, the question of whether I had a full-time job yet didn’t waver. Aunties, parents, friends, acquaintances, strangers even, asked. It felt like the whole world was asking. And before corona, this was the only thing hanging over my head…But then lockdown happened.

Has things slowed down post-lockdown? Simply put, no.

Why is that? Because I’ve been blessed by the demand of my time for my other projects. In hindsight, I would not have had time to spend the hours and effort that my projects needed and deserved whilst working at the Gateau House. So in that way I’ve been blessed to have things to do that I had suppress and ignored prior. There is also an innate rejection towards boredom and the idea of halting. Halting because of this virus and what it means for not only our nation, but the world. During this time, I think deep down, I believe I owe it to others and the world to keep living. Living in terms of waking up and continuing to create, to work hard, to do something with my skills and the life that He has given me. Because someone out there needs that too.

Although some may think our life has been taken away from us because of this isolation, I think it has done quite the opposite. I was living before, but I also think I’m living right now, maybe even more so. It’s all about mindset - what we choose to do and who we choose to interact with. I’ve come to realise that covid-19 has forced us to live a life different than before because we have to be more intentional. More intentional because home-life can be distracting, boring, bleak and routine. But intentionality is called to be activated more than ever. We have more control over our own life. That’s a human right. Control over how we think, act and live is the only thing we have now, our only advantage over corona.

So today I put on my “work” pants and a decent top I wouldn’t mind being seen in at a dinner party, and sat down to write my daily to-do list and reflection as part of my morning “quarantine routine”. As the sun streamed in through the blinds and illuminated my blue written thoughts in my journal, I wasn’t thinking about the vitamin D I was getting or the maintenance of my iso tan. I thought about this crazy, but also very simple idea…a blog. I wrote that exact thought down followed by my immediate response to message Paulz about writing daily personal essays. To keep a long story short, stars aligned and Pauz too had the same idea. And here we are right now, a few hours after our epiphanies, the start of something extremely exciting and hopeful. A chance to live life, properly, and share our experiences with one another amidst such a time in world history. A chance to slow down, collect our thoughts and questions. A chance to encourage and a chance to pay some hope forward.

Because who doesn’t need a little bit of hope right now?

Let’s start again. Together.

- a

[kpopaeipathy]

Love is in the air, and it smells like coffee (Jungkook Oneshot)

Pairing: Barista!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You notice that the best drawings in the coffee milk are always in your cup, so you end up paying attention to the barista, and you fall for his charm.

Word Count: 1.5k

Requested by Anon

A/N: Sorry I took so long to write it! And I hope you like it ^^

---

Of all the drinks in the world, there were none that you liked more than coffee. From the warm espresso to the iced Americano; bitter coffee, with sugar or milk; Anyway, anywhere, you considered coffee the perfect seasoning for any situation. To you, coffee made life better.

For this reason, you were never able to tell what was your favorite way of drinking coffee, and every time you went to the Cafe, you made a different request. That, of course, until your favorite barista at the Cafe moved to another State.

At first, as you walked into the Cafe and ran into Jungkook instead of Taehyung, you felt as though you had been abandoned, as if your best friend had departed and left a fake substitute in their place. However, Jungkook proved he could come up to the position.

The black-haired barista with almond-shaped, friendly eyes was as skilled in his craft as the former employee. Over time, you came to appreciate and trust Jungkook’s work, and stopped comparing him to Taehyung.

There was, however, a characteristic in Jungkook that was completely different from Taehyung and which - you didn’t want to admit - bothered you a little. The old barista was open and very communicative, and you loved spending hours at the Cafe just talking to him and drinking the coffee he was lovingly preparing for you. Jungkook, however, despite being nice, was very shy and quiet, and you were slow to get accustomed to the fact that you wouldn’t waste your time hanging out at Cafe.

Even so, if you were asked, you’d admit that you liked to see Jungkook in the Cafe preparing your drinks. It wasn’t only because a soft smile, as charming as it was timid, danced on thick lips every time he saw you entering the Cafe (or every time he saw your name written on the request glass when he was too busy to look at the door which opened all the time); not only because he looked like an artist when he prepared the orders, always focused and meticulous. No, you preferred Jungkook for another reason, a much more selfish one. You preferred Jungkook because of the designs he made with the milk on your drinks.

The short time you spent at the Cafe was rewarded with an inexplicable talent. From a simple leaf to a picture of a person, Jungkook was able to do wonders with a little bit milk. You became so addicted to the barista’s drawings that you switched any simple drink to one with milk.

However, you never noticed that Jungkook devoted that gift entirely to you until your co-worker Yoongi asked you why you were all smiling looking at your cup of coffee. It was only you to show him your drink with a drawing of a koala and Yoongi to tell you that he had never received such a cool drawing, that you ended up wondering. How came Yoongi, who went to the Cafe as often as you, never noticed Jungkook’s talent?

From that day on, you began to pay more attention to Jungkook and his work. It didn’t take long for you to realize that other people were getting well-made drawings, but rather simple as you received more sophisticated and detailed ones. That little detail made you spend a lot of time at the Cafe, but instead of talking to the barista, you just watched him, and watching Jungkook was anything but a tedious task.

The more you watched, the more you learned about him. The black-haired guy was kind and thoughtful. He did his own work and still had plenty of time to help out in the cashier and smile at all the rude customers the other employee hated. Jungkook was able to become reddened every time a girl flirted with him, but he was also capable of stretching his five-foot-ten in front of men who thought they were better than the others.

The more you watched, the more you fell in love with him. It was not just that he was an incredible man, but also because he paid special attention to the drawings he’d give you. So you found yourself wishing he didn’t just give you the charismatic smiles and drawings.

It was on a hectic and rainy night that you decided to stay late at the Cafe, watching the comings and goings of the customers who were not afraid to get a little wet, that you decided to take the first step towards making your (non-existent) relationship with Jungkook more intimate. He had offered to take the garbage out because his co-worker was busy with the cash register and had been complaining about the rain all day. But when he reached the side door with two giant bags in his hands, Jungkook stumbled to get the door open.

You quickly got up to help him, and it was with great satisfaction that you opened the door to a blushed Jungkook who thanked you in a low voice. Not wanting to leave him outside in the rain, you left right behind him, opening your umbrella over both heads.

Surprised, Jungkook looked up, trying to understand why he was not getting any drops of that incessant rain, and when he came across the pink cover, he turned back, slamming one of the garbage bags into you.

“Oh, gosh,” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”

You smiled as you rubbed your leg, wondering what could be inside that bag that was so hard. But you ignored that thought when you realized that Jungkook had approached you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking down at your leg, not realizing he was too close.

“I’m fine,” you answered, and you smiled a little as he turned to you and his eyes widened as he realized the short distance between you.

“Umm,” Jungkook cleared his throat and tried to take a step away, but you followed him. “What are you doing?” He asked, looking completely frightened by the proximity of you.

To tell the truth, you wanted to laugh at his extremely shy behavior, but all you did was answer his question with a smile still planted on your lips. "The rain… That’s why I left after you… so you wouldn’t get wet while you throw the trash out.”

“Oh,” Jungkook frowned as he looked back at your pink umbrella, then looked back into your eyes. “You didn’t need to do that.”

This time, you couldn’t contain the giggle. “I couldn’t let my favorite artist get cold,” you remarked, “Who will make my lattes if you’re not here tomorrow?”

That seemed to appease him… No! It was much more than that. Jungkook’s almond-shaped eyes brightened with joy as you mentioned his drawings, and the barista’s well-built body visibly relaxed as a smirk formed on his thick lips.

“You noticed?”

“It’d be hard not to notice when you have so much talent,” you replied, ignoring the heat that started to rise to your cheeks.

Jungkook sighed and the smile on his lips subsided a little, as if he was disappointed with your answer.

“Yeah,” he said, looking away from you, “I’ve already been told I’m talented.” After another sigh, he continued, holding up his busy hands with the garbage bags, “I think I’d better get rid of these and get back in soon.”

Without another word, Jungkook turned, taking care not to hit you again with the garbage bags, and went to the dumpster beside the Cafe.

You felt strange after what he said, and desperately wanted to do something to make him feel that you were different from all the people who noticed his talent. Without realizing it, you blurted out, “If you know you’re talented, why do you make the more complicated drawings just for me and make the simpler ones for everyone else?” And that’s how you realized you were an idiot.

Without answering you, letting the silence constrain you to the point where the heat rises to your ears, Jungkook tossed the garbage bags into the dumpster before turning to you. Once again he had that smirk on his face, and this time, the proximity between you didn’t seem to bother him.

“Some people would be grateful to get more attention than others,” he finally replied, “but you seem annoyed that I’m hiding my talent.”

Snorting, you responded without thinking, “I am annoyed. You could be working in the best Cafes in the country or teaching the next generation of talented baristas, but instead you’re hiding here.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he shrugged.

“In an unknown Cafe inside a company with a lot of people who don’t even know the difference between a latte and a cappuccino?” You wanted to be sarcastic and didn’t expect it to make Jungkook laugh. You surely didn’t expect his answer.

“Not exactly,” he said before grabbing your waist and pulling you even closer to him.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as the butterflies flew bewildered in your stomach.

“Exactly,” he replied, closing the distance between you and sticking his thick lips to yours.

[twohearts-hs]

‘Give or Take lll’ - Best Friend!Harry Series

Words: 1,445

Pairing: Harry Styles & (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: Swearing

Part 3: Request part 4 and ideas!!! Xx

A series about H and Y/N, a best friend with benefits can never be good. It depends on how you take it. Xx

Part 1 Part 2

“I’ll tell you this...people suck.” she hiccuped, looking over at her phone, seeing the dim light of the electronic telling her it was ten o’clock.

They were both drunk, honestly. It was vodka that night. The both of them were greedy and drank the box wine under half an hour. But now they were just mumbling.

He hummed to her, “Like my ex-boyfriend was a jerk. My boss keeps saying I’m giving him blowjob eyes, and I still don’t get paid the same amount to a man.” he just kept looking at her, faintly listening to her rant about her life. It was something that he loved about her, she always has opinions and she was never afraid to voice them. 

One time he remembers her and him use to go to this coffee place every Wednesday, and it was her favourite place because of the fucking muffins, not the coffee at all. A few Wednesdays after their first experience there, there was a new guy and he kept on flirting constantly. Harry, of course, hated it, but YN just tried her best to play it off. But, then it got inappropriate. So, YN did what YN does best, she ranted for a full five minutes on how women can’t even get a god damn coffee without guys hitting them up. He remembers this line particularly, “Men can’t remember anything for the day, they can’t listen, they can’t even know what day it is, but they remember that they want their dick to get wet. They’ll listen to their dick when it wants some. Get in your fucking mind that women are not objects and if you do, I damn you. Now, can I fucking get my coffee? Thank you.” that time made him chuckle, they haven’t been back more for her mortal embarrassment. 

“Harry?” he looked up at her holding her phone, “Are you listening?” he hummed in agreement, but she signalled her phone, walking out of the room. He looked back to the half-drunken vodka bottle. Harry sat in his own little world, thinking, not even paying attention around him.

“Harry!” she ran in, knocking him over. He was too drunk to know what is happening., “Matt just called me, he welcomes me back to the studio.” Harry smiles, but soon it faded.

“Are you going to take it?” she stared down and thought for a moment, eventually her eyes meeting his gaze.

“Just fucking live, as you say. I think I am going to take it.” he nodded, lips in a firm line. He really wanted her to come on tour. “I’m sorry that I can’t come on tour. I know how much it meant to you.” he nodded, getting up and heading to the door.

“Harry, I’ll come for the last few weeks.” he nodded, walking back to her, and pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“It’s getting late, love.” they said their share of goodbyes and walked out.

Three months he has been gone, and three months of working at the parlour. In her words, it was a dream. She didn’t wake up at early hours and didn’t have to work late, and she enjoyed what she was doing.

Matt was the best in her words. Mid-thirties, two kids, divorced, blonde hair, glasses and a shit ton of tattoos. He was like a brother to her. Walking into the parlour for the new job was fulfilling, she was truly doing what she wanted to do. Yes, there was some screaming matches from her parents, but honestly, she couldn’t give a flying fuck about them.

Three months of talking on the phone to Harry. A few FaceTimes here and there, but she was busy and he was busy. It wasn’t like she missed everything, she just felt it was normal. She didn’t even bat an eye towards him. YN’s life was focused on her work.

“Sorry I’m late.” her hand gripped the door and flung it open. Matt was at the desk, typing on the computer.

“No worries, YN.” his American accent was something she personally enjoyed about him.

“I got you a cappuccino with almond milk to suck up.” she handed him the coffee, and raced to the back, “I had the most terrible food poisoning this weekend. Vomit and everything.” he chuckled from the entrance.

“Glad to know the details. Why are you here, then?” she walked out and grabbed her calendar off the table.

“I have two clients today and plus, you miss me.”

“Always do,” he smirked.

“Hey, Matt?” his head poked up from the computer screen, “I’m leaving early, I have a doctor’s appointment at one,” he confirmed her leave and went to get his station ready. YN followed.

She sat in agony. Indeed it was just a check-up, but what if it’s not food poisoning and was some tropical virus that will kill her. YN never truly enjoyed doctor appointments. It could’ve been nausea coming from the sterilization or the white asylum walls. The judge look from when you told them your deepest darkest secrets… your sex life.

“Ms YLN, your results are back.” the doctor opened the door, and she felt once again, a little underdressed and uncomfortable with the hospital gown on, “Congrats, you’re pregnant.” she blinked a few times, looking down and up.

“What?” the young male doctor came closer and grabbed her hand; making her even more uncomfortable.

“Ms YLN, the test came back and you don’t have food poisoning, you are pregnant.” she bit her lip.

“What, no, how?” he gave her a look and took a breath in.

“Well when-”

“Oh God, I know how children are made.” she stood up and grabbed her clothing, and heading to the bathroom.

“Ms YLN, do you know your options. You seem to be-”

“I know my fucking options. I am a capable woman of raising a child. I don’t need anything. So, get your intern butt out of my room so I can change.”

“Ms YLN, you seem to be a little upset.”

“Now!”

YN walked out in a hurry, she didn’t want to deal with this anymore. This was never her plan in life, possibly in the future, but not now. Darn Harry and his penis.

That night she let the information sit in, sitting on her windowsill, drinking tea and watching the busy streets of London; rain droplets blurring it. Her mind raced and stopped when a call came from her phone.

“Hey!” it was a FaceTime from Harry, his wide smile filling the screen and his eyes with corner crinkles. She smiled a tad bit.

“Hi,” she responded, biting her lip gently, “how are you? How’s the tour?” His smile still evident.

“Good, good. Hey, love, I have something to tell you. “ she nodded.

“I do as well. You go first,” she edged on.

“Really, are you sure?” He cleared his throat, “I meet someone. She’s super sweet and it’s going on really well.” Her heart sank a bit, but she had to be strong for herself and the baby.

“Congrats, I’m really happy for you. What’s her name?”

“Camille. Now, enough about that, what’s your news?” She knew it was time, she closed her eyes and tried her best to figure out what to say.

“Harry,” he looked so interested, “I’m pregnant.” she just went straight to the point. He blinked a few times, silence in the air.

“Who’s the lucky guy?!” His expression changed.

“Don’t play that fucking game, you know.” she took a breather, “but, I can play this off as a one night stand thing.” his expression was still blank.

“This is a lot to take in, YN. I just met someone who I think is the one and you break this news.” she nodded her head.

“It takes two to make a baby, Harry.”

“Do you know your options?”

“I’m fucking not gonna abort it, or put it up for adoption. This is my kin, my blood and bones. I’m gonna keep it. It’s up to you if you want to be apart of that.” she yelled, he was gobsmacked.

Harry blinked a few times, swallowing hard and just sitting in silence. This is a lot to take it, but maybe it’ll be good. He always wanted kids, he truly does. Maybe with having one with his best friend might spark something.

[draconian-overlord]

Do all of the asks. All of them.

YOU TRASH BAG UGH FINE I’LL DO ALL OF THEM.

chocolate: when was your first kiss?

It does not exist and may never

french vanilla:

how old are you?

My existence exceeds the age of the universe

cotton candy:

three places you want to travel to?

Paris, Alaska, and Japan

strawberry:

a language you wish you could speak?

Sign language

coffee:

favorite cosmetic brands?

KVD, Urban Decay, and Shiro Cosmetics

mint chocolate chip:

indoors or outdoors?

Although I love the outdoors, the indoors has fewer ants

cookie dough:

do you play any instruments?

I play classical piano, and know one guitar riff

rocky road:

favorite songs at the moment?

Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos

butter pecan:

favorite songs for life?

Um, the same?

cheesecake:

what’s your zodiac sign?

VIRGO

toasted coconut:

the beach or the pool?

The beach because my dog loves to play in the sand

chocolate chip:

what’s your most popular post?

IDK THERE’S TOO MANY

bubblegum:

books or movies?

Mostly books, but movies can be great too

pistachio:

manga or anime?

Both are great- stories with more action work really well with anime since they are more exhilarating to see, but more complex stories are better told in manga because of their ongoing nature

salted caramel:

favorite movies?

UGHH I HATE QUESTIONS LIKE THESE. I literally remember nothing that I watch; if I have a favorite, it is somewhere deep within the void that is my mind. I know I loved the Falsettos movie, though!

birthday cake:

favorite books?

ANOTHER ONE. Okay, well, I love series, especially fantasy series. So my favorites are the Riordan books (there are too many to list), the Harry Potter books, and the LOTR books. I also like the Sisters of Versailles series (warning, they’re SIN), and probably many more I can’t remember at the moment.

moose tracks: (wtf is this a real ice cream flavor???????)

favorites for manga?

OKAY THIS I KNOW BECAUSE I HAVE A LIST-- I should do that for other stuff. Anyway, I love Black Butler, Yona of the Dawn, Princess Jellyfish, and Abide in the Wind (although that’s a manhwa, but oh well).

orange sherbet:

favorites for anime?

One Punch Man, Shiki, Orange, From the New World, Psycho Pass, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Nana, Boys over Flowers, and Sailor Moon

peanut butter:

favorite academic subject?

AP Biology is the most wonderful subject to ever exist, I looovved it

black raspberry:

do you have any pets?

A DOGGO WHO I LOVE MORE THAN THIS PLANE OF EXISTENCE

mango:

when and why did you start your blog?

When: July 2016

Why: Literally a whim after you told me to, Maia

mocha:

ideal weather conditions?

THUNDERSTORMS ARE HELLA FUN

black cherry:

four words that describe you?

Spontaneous, sensitive, small, and sordid

neapolitan:

things that stress you out?

Everything I get stressed when people tell me I need to fix something, when I’m separated from people I care about, when I’m in a room with strangers, when a room is really cold and has harsh lighting, when I’m walking down a narrow bright hallway, when I suddenly feel detached from my surroundings for absolutely no reason, when I lie awake in bed for hours trying to sleep but being distracted by thoughts, and when my shoes don’t fit properly.

raspberry truffle:

favorite kind of music?

I love Chopin’s Nocturnes, they awaken my inner witch, but I also love ACDC and assorted rock bands, as well as Tori Amos-esque pop, so my taste is kind of all over the place

chocolate marshmallow:

favorite brands of candy?

I love Cadbury chocolate since it’s literally all milk & sugar. Lindt truffles are universally acknowledged as heavenly, and Kit-Kats are pretty great. I’m not really a fan of hard candy, but blue raspberry Jolly Ranchers are cool.

toffee:

a card game that you’re good at?

Um. None of them? Maybe those memory games, I guess.

lemon custard:

do you eat breakfast?

I do! I’m usually STARVING in the morning, so I’ll have a bowl of cereal or toast, nothing too heavy. If I’m not hungry that early, I might have a fancier brunch later, like waffles or pancakes.

dark chocolate:

turn ons?

Oh my god. Um. Long, luxurious curls are pretty hot. As well as nice lips. Uhh, I like pretty clothes too?

fudge:

turn offs?

A lack of hygiene, definitely. Also, being nasty and a just plain awful person are clearly turn offs.

peach:

how do you relax?

Two words: I don’t. But, I do try to drink tea and take long baths, they sort of help.

praline:

a popular book you haven’t read yet?

The rest of the TMI series. I read book one, was severely put off by the incest, the blehhh writing, and the annoying protagonist, and never picked up another one.

superman:

do you like sweaters?

OH MY GOD I LOVE SWEATERS SO MUCH YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ONE OF THE REASONS I HATE SUMMER SO MUCH IS BECAUSE I CAN’T WEAR SWEATERS.

cherry:

do you drink tea or coffee?

Both! But I prefer tea for the taste. If I’m really tired, though, I might have coffee.

dulce de leche:

an instrument you wish you could play?

I really want to learn how to play the violin! It sounds so beautiful, and it’s an instrument I can actually bring with me places. Pianos are a little difficult to carry around.

blackberry:

have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

SO MANY TIMES!! I laugh all the time, at anything, and then end up laughing so hard I cry ;v;. It’s really a problem when I’m wearing mascara!

ginger:

a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

Hmm, I think that NOT MESSING UP YOUR PLACE ON A BLOG WHEN YOU TRY TO REBLOG SOMETHING WOULD BE A GREAT FEATURE, NO???

blueberry lemon:

favorite blogs?

I GUESS that I’ll have to go with @lareinedelapoubelle (this is coercion i did not add her in of my own will i swear it), @a-million-stories, @space-rocks-trash-bin, @dracos-at-pigfarts, @astrae, @thebootydiaries, @pjoisboss, @writing-prompt-s, @zephyrine-gale, @norindraws, @astrorhea, @normal-horoscopes, @qiu-jin, @mysticmessengerincorrectquotes, @anyway-i-love-vanderwood, @lizard-is-writing, @missthingmessenger, @promiscuous-jalapeno, @cuipid, @artcemis, @myetie, @aquariumprincess23, @caffeinewitchcraft, and @jintii (I LOVE ALL OF YOU YOU’RE SO WONDERFUL ❤❤❤)

almond:

favorite mean girls quote?

WE SHOULD TOTALLY JUST STAB CAESAR!!!

butterscotch:

what color are your nails right now?

They are currently a sienna-reddish-brown.

cinnamon:

have you ever been confessed to?

Nope.

blue moon:

have you ever had a crush on someone?

Yep.

cappuccino crunch:

do you take naps?

Nahh, I can never sleep during the day even when I need it.

mint:

the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?

I once tripped going up the stairs at a family friend’s house, and found myself rolling sideways from the top of the staircase I had just walked all the way back down. Unfortunately, I have still not lived that down.

brownie batter:

do you like sushi?

Yeah, it’s pretty great!

key lime:

where do you want to be right now?

In a tangled affair with a balding French Canadian waiter named Lemon. He kisses my hand, and we run away across the seas into eternal darkness.

red velvet:

do you wear prescription glasses?

I wear prescription colored contacts, so technically, I guess.

green tea:

favorite flavors of ice cream?

Cookie dough is love, cookie dough is life. I also love vanilla fudge swirl and birthday cake.

[milesgonzalomorales]

all of them

gwen what

chocolate: when was your first kiss?

My first what?

french vanilla: how old are you?

18

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to?

Yokohama, Australia and I’d like to go to India again, but for sightseeing this time

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

Japanese (not because I want to watch anime without subtitles)

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?

I don’t wear makeup

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?

Indoors

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?

Already answered

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?

Fighter by Bump of Chicken, Yuri on Ice, The Battle of Concepts, Hikare Are

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?

Sugar Song to Bitter Step, anything from the znt or ylia OST, Regrets of the Dead from Death Parade and Bruno Mars Marry You

cheesecake: what's your zodiac sign?

pisces

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?

Pool, I HATE the feeling of sand in between my toes

chocolate chip: what's your most popular post?

It’s an Attack on Ti/tan post, that’s all I know. 

bubblegum: books or movies?

Books

pistachio: manga or anime?

It honestly depends? I’ve seen some amazing anime, but the manga didn’t do the series justice (i.e Kill la Kill, Your Lie in April, Steins;Gate, there are probably more) and vice versa, there are manga that have been phenomenal but have had awful anime adaptations *glances at s2 of bs/d*

salted caramel: favorite movies?

The Three Idiots, Bhagam Bhag, Coraline, Thoda Pyaar Thoda Magic, Om Shanti Om and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai

birthday cake: favorite books?

TOO MANY TO COUNT, but a few that come to mind are Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, George Eliot’s Middlemarch, Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human, Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows, Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events (The Austere Academy or The Ersatz Elevator is my favourite) and Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. 

moose tracks: favorites for manga?

Bungou Stray Dogs, Death Note, One Punch Man, A SILENT VOICE, Pandora Hearts, No. 6 and anything by Inio Asano. 

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?

This list would be pretty long if I listed all my favourites, but a few really good ones that come to mind are Bungou Stray Dogs, Flip Flappers, Mob Psycho 100, Zankyou no Terror, Gekkan Shojo Nozaki-kun, Yuri on Ice, Orange (both the anime and the manga are amazing), Osomatsu-san and Steins;Gate. Also, Haikyuu. I know people might write it off as just another sports anime, but it’s really managed to touch me. 

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?

Either English, History or Political Science 

black raspberry: do you have any pets?

No, I wish I did. 

mango: when and why did you start your blog?

I started it to kind of keep fandom stuff in one place, but that didn’t work out too well. 

mocha: ideal weather conditions?

Spring weather, so there will be a chill in the air, but no snow on the ground. 

black cherry: four words that describe you?

Stupid, ugly, loser, trash

neapolitan: things that stress you out?

Public transit, the future of America, in class exams, the United States leaving the UN, Kunikida Doppo not getting the happiness he deserves 

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?

anime osts basically 

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?

Dairy Milk, Lindt, Hershey, and I also love Skittles. Except for purple skittles. They taste gross. 

toffee: a card game that you're good at?

There was that one card game, I think it was called President. I was pretty good at that. 

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?

Yeah, don’t skip breakfast kids. 

dark chocolate: turn ons?

A good sense of humour, willing to listen to me talk even if you don’t know what I’m talking about, generally being a down to earth person. 

fudge: turn offs?

I really hate rude people??? The ones who shit on other people’s excitement??? Also people who can’t empathize with other people and also people who use words like gay with a negative connotation. Hate them. 

peach: how do you relax?

Usually I relax by just doodling, reading, taking warm baths, listening to music and talking with my sisters. 

praline: a popular book you haven't read yet?

Throne of Glass by Sarah J Mass, @rhyesand keeps telling me that I NEED to read it, but I have no time to read for fun now. Also I need to finish Crooked Kingdom, I’m only a page in. 

superman: do you like sweaters?

YES

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?

None

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?

I’ve always wanted to learn to play the piano or violin. 

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

Did you mean the Nanalan video?

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

A feature that lets you punch a Nazi

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?

In no particular order, @pengwenno, @acetrainergalaxy, @moneera-87,  @johayna-the-memer, @empathique

almond: favorite mean girls quote?

You go Glen Coco!

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?

Not wearing nail polish, I don’t like it

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?

Yeah? Kind of? It’s like those jokes where people are like “Oh you should confess to the ugliest girl” and surprise surprise, that was me. 

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?

Yup. 

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?

Unless I’m sick, no.

mint: the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?

*inhales* bOI

brownie batter: do you like sushi?

I like Atsushi (but I’ve never tried sushi)

key lime: where do you want to be right now?

ngl, I kind of want to be on campus at uni, it’s become a second home for mered velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?

Yup. 

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?

Chocolate Peanut Butter, Mint Chocolate Chip, Butterscotch Sundae, Cotton Candy, but a lot of the asks sound interesting 

[deservebetterfanfiction]

Chapter Seven

“You know this is classified as stalking right?” I asked James as he sat on the couch with his laptop, using it to find out every bit of information he could about his latest crush.

“If he didn’t want people to know everything about his life, he wouldn’t post it online.” He replied as he stared at his laptop intently.

I smiled despite myself as I took a sip of my morning hot chocolate.

“It’s one thing to stalk a guy online, but you’re actually planning to show up at his work.” I said pointedly.

“No, I am going to casually go to where he is working to make an opportunity for him to ask me on a date.” He retorted.

“It’s still weird.” I commented as I took another sip of my drink.

“Well if you think it’s so weird, you should come with me.” He said.

“And why on earth would I do that?”

“To make sure I don’t do anything weird.”

“Besides the stalking the guy and randomly showing up at his work?” I qualified with a grin.

“Exactly. And who goes to café’s by themselves anyway?” he asked pointedly.

I sighed, it was my day off and I didn’t particularly want to do anything, especially not going to a café so I could watch James hit on some guy, but I knew he wasn’t about to go to the café alone, “Can’t you go with someone else?”

“Who else am I going to take? Your father?” he asked sarcastically, pointing to the passed out lump on the floor that was my father.

I looked over at his sleeping form with a sigh. He’d made it home at three in the morning. I’d woken up to find him stumbling drunk through the house. I’d tried to help him to his room but he’d passed out before I could get him out of the lounge room, so I just left him on the floor after I threw a blanket over him.

“If I wasn’t sure that he would be like that for the majority of the day, I’d say yes.” I replied.

“Fat chance.” He snapped.

I sighed, I guess I was going out today. Which would mean I would have to get out of my onesies, something I was loathed to do. But, with James, I didn’t really have a choice. He would pester me until I agreed or make me feel guilty for at least a month if I didn’t go.

I’d just resigned myself to my fate when my phone pinged to say I had a message. It was from Kit; ‘Hey, what are you up to today?’

‘James jut informed me that I’m going out to lunch with him so he can spy on his latest crush.’ I replied.

‘Sounds exciting. Mind if I tag along?’

‘Why? Do you want to check out the hot waiters as well?’

‘Absolutely. And I’ve got nothing on today so I thought we should hang out.’

‘I’m not sure how James will cope with having you there as competition but I’m down for a cat fight if you are. Meet you at the café at 12?’

‘Sure thing.’

And that was that.

I dragged myself off the couch and got dressed. I wore a pair of black leggings and a long black shirt that successfully hid most of my large behind. I paired it all with a pair of lace-up boots and a black jacket that had a gold leaf design on it.

It was a rare sunny day in Belfast so I put on my sunglasses and the two of us decided to walk to the café rather than drive. Linking his arm through mine, the two of us automatically fell into step with each other which automatically meant James wanted to skip in a Wizard of Oz re-enactment.

I indulged him for a few steps, but my bouncing boobs were making me uncomfortable, so I pulled him back to just walking again.

“So what’s the deal with you and Kit these days?” he asked conversationally as we walked.

“What do you mean?” I frowned.

“I mean, you guys seem to be friendly again after your night of debauchery…” he grinned suggestively and I rolled my eyes, “Are thing progressing in a romantic direction?”

“No.” I told him immediately and to my surprise, he looked crestfallen, “We’re just friends.” I assured him.

“Is that what you want or what Kit wants?” he asked.

“Kit’s a guy. He obviously wanted more but I told him no.” I said.

“You turned him down?!” he demanded in shock.

“He wanted to be fuck buddies. I didn’t. There were no hard feelings.” I explained.

“Did he say that?”

“Well not in so many words, but he’s a guy. What more could he want?”

“He could want to be in a relationship.” He said pointedly.

“What? With me? No way.” I dismissed.

“Yes way! No offense, but you can’t be that good in the sack that it was all he wanted from you.” He reasoned.

“Have you had sex with me? Its pretty great.” I grinned.

“Yeah, I bet you bang like a fairy on acid.” He teased.

“No that would be you.” I retorted.

We laughed as we walked.

“But seriously though, how do you know he didn’t want a relationship?” he asked.

“Because he is Kit Harington and I am Agnes Jones. Enough said.” I said seriously.

“Enough said? That is definitely not enough said. That is not even close to enough said!” he complained.

“What more do you want me to say James? It’s not gonna happen.” I said.

“But why?” he whined.

“You mean aside from the obvious?” I questioned.

“What obvious?”

I looked at him pointedly.

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t think your good enough for him.” He scoffed.

I didn’t want to reveal the depth of my insecurities, so I decided to make a joke of it, “Do you really think he could handle all of this?” I laughed, running a hand along my thick thighs and bulging stomach.

“Is that it? Because that’s a pretty poor excuse Nessy.” He said pointedly.

“Don’t call me that. And you know the other reasons. It’s lying at home passed out on the floor right now.” I said pointedly.

He sighed in disappointment.

“Why are you so invested?” I asked.

“You two are like my very own star-crossed lovers sit-com.” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes, “You need to get a life.”

“Hey I have a life alright? It is filled with big gay unicorns and cosmopolitans.” He defended.

“And stalking potential love interests.” I added.

We laughed as we walked down the street together.

Maggie Mays Café was a big brown brick building at the end of the street with a chic black picket fence. I hadn’t even stepped inside and I already had judged the place as hipster that would probably serve nothing but organic greens and almond milk coffee.

Kit was waiting outside, smoking a cigarette.

“You know those things are bad for you.” Commented James.

“Oh lay off.” I said, shoving his shoulder before I turned to Kit, “He says it to me all the time too.”

Kit simply grinned as he took one long last drag before he stubbed the cigarette out on the ground and we all headed inside.

“So who is it your stalking?” asked Kit as we went and found a table.

“I’m not stalking. I’m creating opportunities.” James defended.

“He’s stalking.” I said, whispering to Kit conspiratorially.

He laughed.

“Shut up!” snapped James.

Still grinning we sat down as James craned his neck, looking around the café. Turning to Kit, I grabbed the menu and he pressed his shoulder into mine as he leaned over to look at the menu with me.

I was right about the Hipster Menu. Their all day breakfast included not one, but two different bagel options and oatmeal porridge. Their lunch menu wasn’t much better

“What in the hell is Chicken Goujons?” I asked.

“The description makes it sound like crumbed chicken.” Said Kit.

I nodded in understanding. I was a little distracted by how close Kit was to me, I could smell his unique scent of aftershave and tobacco and it was doing strange things to me. It made knots form in my stomach and made me clench my thighs together. I had to read an item on the menu several times before I could make sense of what I had actually read, I was so distracted.

“Bookmakers Sandwich? Come on!” I complained.

Kit laughed, “Just order something normal like the Beef Lasagne?”

“Oh come on, I’m in a hipster café, I have to try something different. I think I’ll go the Chicken and mushroom bake.” I replied.

He shook his head, “You make no sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you like to go to restaurants and try something different every time, but you hate it when places try to be different and creative with their food?” he asked.

“I hate it when people mess with good food. I like my food, obviously.” I said, gesturing down to my body, “You shouldn’t mess with what’s good by trying to make it different.” I told him.

He simply smiled, “I’m going to get the Peppered Chicken.” He said decidedly.

I pulled a face.

“What? You don’t approve?”

I shook my head, “You’re so boring.”

“And you’re so judgemental.” He retorted.

“Bite me.” I replied.

“I have.” He said simply.

His words made the knots in my stomach clench painfully tight as I squeezed my thighs together. But before I could grow too uncomfortable, James smacked my arm to get my attention, “Here he comes!” he hissed.

I looked up to see an attractive male, with perfectly tousled brown hair and thick, black, hipster glasses. I saw his nametag said ‘Pablo’ and I wondered if there was any chance in the world that a guy with a name like that could not possibly be gay.

“Hey James, what are you doing here?” he asked smiling brightly.

“Oh Pablo! I had no idea you worked here.” Said James just as brightly.

I let loose a short bark of laughter and tried to disguise it as a cough. James shot me an angry look as Kit patted me on the back.

“Well I’m glad you’re here.” He said.

“Yes, what a happy coincidence.” Grinned Kit.

“Oh my god!” said Pablo, as he looked at Kit, “Your Jon Snow!” he said excitedly.

“Yeah, he’s a friend of ours.” Said James smoothly.

I used the menu to hide my grin.

“What can I get you guys?” asked Pablo, seeming a little flustered.

Kit and I said our orders as James took a brief glance at the menu.

“You want something to drink?” asked Kit.

“Yeah.” I said, I opened my mouth to say my order but Kit spoke before I could.

“Can I grab a Latte and a Hot Chocolate?” he asked.

I blinked in shock as I turned to Kit, he remembered what I liked?

“I’ll have the Bolognese Chips.” Said James loudly, interrupting my train of thought, “And a soy cappuccino.”

The Bolognese Chip sounded quite good. It was basically chips served with Bolognese sauce. I would have to steal some of James chips.

“I’ll be right back with that.” Said Pablo scribbling on his note pad, smiling at James before he turned to Kit and smiled again. He then headed off towards the counter.

The moment he was out of ear shot, James turned to us anxiously, “So what do you think?”

“He seems nice.” Said Kit simply.

“He’s cute.” I smiled.

Kit whipped his head around to look at me with a strangely accusatory glance. I blinked in shock; what?

“Do you think he’s interested?” James demanded, pulling my attention back to him once more.

“I saw him for like two seconds James, what do you want from me?” I asked, mildly irritated, I didn’t like the way Kit was looking at me. It was as if I had done something to upset him and I didn’t like that.

“But he said he was happy we were here right?” asked James, “That’s a good sign right?”

“I guess.” I shrugged as I glance over at Kit. What had I done to upset him?

“You don’t just think its because Dark and Brooding is here?” asked James, gesturing to Kit.

“I’m right here you know.” Said Kit, still sounding irked.

“I don’t know.” I replied.

“Oh shush! Here he comes. Act natural!” said James, flapping his hands around momentarily in a panic before he became strangely still.

Kit busied himself with looking at his phone as I stared at him in confusion, what was his problem?

“Here you are.” Said Pablo as he handed Kit his latte and me my hot chocolate.

“Thank you.” I smiled as I pulled the drink closer to me glancing at Kit out of the corner of my eye.

“So Pablo, how long have you worked here?” asked James.

Blocking the two of them out, I focused on Kit. He had been fine two seconds ago, why was he all of a sudden so dark and broody?

Wanting to replace his signature pout with a smile, I reached up and touched the tip of my finger to his nose, making a small honking sound.

Blinking in shock he looked over at me in confusion.

I smiled in response, “You really gotta get that fixed.” I said as I reached over and pressed his nose again, making the ‘honking’ sound again.

At that he smiled, his entire body immediately relaxing as he did and I couldn’t help but grin, “Sour puss.” I commented.

“Am not.” He pouted.

“Are too.” I teased.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I am not!”

“Oh god, just bang each other already?” interrupted James.

My face went blank with shock; did James really just say that?! Embarrassment flooded through me and I turned anxiously, expecting to see Kit pouting unhappily once more. But to my surprise, he simply smiled at James.

After that the rest of lunch went smoothly. Pablo even joined us on his break.

“We should all go out sometime.” Said James, though he said ‘we’ he only had eyes for Pablo.

“Yeah, I’d love to double date.” Smiled Pablo, turning to Kit with a smile.

Double date? That would imply that Kit and I were a couple. Which we weren’t. But Pablo obviously thought we were. I opened my mouth to correct him but Kit spoke before I could.

“Yeah there’s this place I’ve been meaning to try, we should all go next weekend.” He said, “None of my other friends want to go with me. But I’m keen, what about you guys?”

“Yeah,” smiled James.

“For sure.” Agreed Pablo.

Everyone turned to look at me with expecting eyes. In my teenage years I had always played off the effects of peer group pressure because I had never really succumbed to it. But now, with three different pairs of eyes staring and me and expecting a certain answer, I knew I couldn’t refuse, “Ok. Yeah.”

So it was settled. But I was uncomfortable and excused myself to go outside and have a cigarette. I’d barely fished my lighter out of my handbag when Kit joined me outside, leaning against the wall.

Wordlessly I handed him my lighter after I lit my cigarette.

“Thanks.” He said, his smoke dangling from his lips.

“You never have a lighter on you.” I observed.

“It’s my way of making conversation.” He said as he exhaled a plume of smoke and leaned against the wall next to me.

I nodded in understanding. I knew Kit was a little on the shy side but unlike most introverts he was constantly trying to overcome his shyness by talking to people he did not know and putting himself out there a little more.

“Speaking of conversation,” I began as the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that had settled in ever since the mention of a ‘double date’, “We need to talk about something.”

“About what?” he asked curiously.

“This whole double date thing.” I stated.

“What about it?”

“Well,” I began, trying to play things off with a casual tone, “You know it’s not a real date right? Like you and me… we’re not, I mean, we’re not together or anything. Like, we’re not going on a date. James and Pablo are, but we’re not.” I stammered.

I knew I was babbling but I couldn’t stop myself. I was so uncomfortable. But I needed to make things clear between us.

“I know.” He said with a shrug.

I blinked in shock, well that was not the answer I had been expecting. I half thought he would tell me I was stupid and that of course we weren’t going on a date, the other half of me thought that he would insist that we were going on a date. It was a very confusing and conflicting feeling that he made completely null and void with his shockingly cavalier attitude.

“Just friends.” I clarified, staring at him intently.  

“Just friends.” He agreed.

Even though it was what I wanted to hear, a small part of me was a little disappointed to hear him say it. But I ignored that tiny part of me and instead listened to the part of me that was saying how better off the two of us would be if we were just friends. Kit especially.

“So,” I began, eager for a change of subject, “you going to tell me about this place we’re going to?”

“What place?” he asked innocently.

“The place that we are all going to next weekend. The place you wanted to go to.” I reminded him.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He said with a blank expression.

“Really?” I smiled, realizing his game, “your not going to tell me anything about where we are going?”

“Nope.” He smiled as he took a long drag on his cigarette.

“Why not?” I questioned.

“Because I want it to be a surprise.” He said simply.

“Why?”

“Because I know it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m amazingly perceptive.” He grinned.

I shook my head in amusement, “So you’re not going to give me even a hint?”

“Nope.” He said, popping the ‘p’ sound.

“How am I supposed to know what to wear?” I complained.

He was thoughtful for a moment, “Fair point.”

“Exactly! You have to give me a hint so I know how to dress.” I said as I exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Ok, well a lot of people are going to be looking at you. So dress nice.” He told me.

“Lots of people are going to be looking at me? Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders and refused to meet my eye.

“Seriously? You can’t just say people will be looking at me and not give me anything else! That’s so unfair!” I complained.

“Dress to impress. That’s all I’m saying.” He smiled.

I pouted as I leaned against the wall, “I hate surprises.” I commented.

“Yeah, I gathered that.” He retorted.

I may have hated surprises but I liked the easy banter between us.

[honeybellsurveys]

(-。-;

What is the easiest website to pass time on? Tumblr or youtube.  What’s the last place you left early, and what was your reason? I don’t remember.  Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? Mid day/afternoon. Would you rather visit London or Paris? Paris.

Have you ever bought a youtuber’s merch? Nope :-)

Pick a flavor: pumpkin or apple? Pumpkin.  Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? Water.  What kind of milk do you usually use? Almond or cashew.  What is the best type of donut? Sour cream glaze.  What was your last great garage sale find? I haven’t been to a garage sale in years.  Do you like thrift stores? Yep. When was the last time you ran into someone that you didn’t want to see? Can’t remember.  Was anyone rude to you today? Nope.  What is your town known for? The giant lookout it has.  Who is your favorite set of twins on youtube? I don’t have a fav set of twins I'm not one of those girls lmao.  Do you like to watch DIY craft videos? Not really. What are you regretting right now? Nothing atm.  Who was the last person who was rude to you? Dunno. Would you ever let the barista at Starbucks make a random drink for you? Nah I don't even really like Starbucks. Have you ever used a fake name at Starbucks? No. Have you ever left a note in a library book? Nope. What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair?  Night. What is the worst job you’ve ever had? Working in a giant boring warehouse for my dad’s company all by myself.  What is the best job you’ve ever had?

Just a babysitter I guess lmao, I haven’t had many jobs.  What job do you want to have? Teacher :) What are you passionate about? Music. Have you ever tried vlogging, and if yes, did you stick with it? I haven’t and I won't.  ^Same question with blogging. Have you? Nope not unless Tumblr counts. 

Do you have to alter a lot of your clothes? No. What country do you most want to visit? Japan. Do you have chronic pain? No. If you go to church, what is your favorite thing about it? Nothing lmao. ^and what is your least favorite thing about it?

Idk, a lot of people in the church can be very judgemental.  Did you go to church this week?

Nah. What is something that’s bothering you right now? That I know I have to get up super early for class tmo.  Are you happy right this instant? I am very content, yes. What’s your favorite fall beverage? Chai latte or pumpkin spice cappuccino. 

Do you exercise daily? No hahaha.  What do you do for exercise? Shit all.  Is your room/house cluttered? Nope. Do you live in a house, condo, apartment, or dorm? Dorm. Were your college years the best years of your life? This is my first college year and so far it is.  What was your favorite class in high school? History.  Which class in high school did you hate the most? Math. Do you have a birthmark? If yes, what color is it? Nope. What color is your lava lamp? Don’t have one. Do you have an inspiration board? No but I have one filled with things that make me happy.  Where do you store old photos? Idk, on my phone? Do you have photos on the wall in your bedroom? Yep. Favorite scent for a candle? I love fall scents.  Would you ever film a youtube video with no make-up on and messy hair? I wouldn’t film one PEROIDT.

What is the most comfortable type of pants, in your opinion? I have these billowy homemade silk pants n they are for sure my most comfortable pants. Do you cry a lot? Yes, I have been calming down lately though.  Do you keep up to date with the latest technology? Yes.  Would you ever want to live in a big city, like New York or Chicago? Maybe, idk though.  What about a big city sounds appealing to you? How you have access to pretty much everything you could want there. Do you wish you had more money to do the things you want to do? Don’t we all.  Do you prefer college-ruled or wide-ruled? Whom? Pencils or pens? Pens. Favorite ink pen color? Red. What are you craving right now? Nothing. Do you have a sweet tooth? Sometimes . Do you need to lose weight? I could do with losing a few pounds but I don’t need to.  Do you need to gain weight? No.  Who is your favorite Lisa Frank character? I don’t have a fav.  Have you ever won a prize at the age guessing booth? The WHOM?

What’s your favorite movie that you remember seeing in the theater? I saw the new Halloween movie Sunday and I loved it!! What was the name of your very first imaginary friend? Link from tloz was my first imaginary friend, I never made him up but I would always say I was hanging with my boyfriend Link hehe.  Do you know anyone who has ten cats? No, sounds like a dream though. Have you ever had a cat? Yes I love them very much <3 Have you ever had a dog? Yep, miss her always.  Have you ever any other kind of animal? Fish, frogs, chickens, ducks and I had a rabbit for a short time too.  Have you ever had a pet rock? Nope I didn't go through that stage.  Which Olympic sport would you most like to be a pro in? Have you ever played this sport? Swimming and yes I used to swim competitively every summer for most of my childhood/ early teen years.  What were you voted in the senior class polls? Most likely to become famous and most likely to fall asleep in class haha.  Who was your favorite teacher in high school? My French n math teacher, I also really liked my bio teacher too, I was taught by lotsa awesome teachers.  Do you own a bobblehead? No. What’s on your desk? My Mac, keurig, a couple binder, a phone, a mug full of pens and pencils, a case of thumbtacks, a mug full of makeup brushes and other beauty tools and a glass of water lol.  Do you love someone who treats you like a piece of shit? Nope don’t love that.  Isn’t loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way horrible? Of course.  What’s your favorite DIY Halloween costume that you’ve seen? Not sure.  What is your favorite gender-neutral name? Alex or Lee.  Do you want to give your kids common names or unique names? A little bit of a mix.  What is your favorite type of braid? I have no idea what it’s called but I've been seeing this braid trending lately and it’s so beautiful.  What is your favorite spice? Cajun and curry.  Favorite Spice Girl? Idk. Favorite Cheetah Girl? ^ Backstreet Boys or *N Sync? *N Sync  Were you a boy band fan? Yep. What decade were you born in? 00. What is your favorite coffee shop? Harbour grounds or Tims.  What is your favorite tattoo that you’ve seen? Not sure, I got one today and i’n in mad love w/ it. What is something you have too many of? Clothes.  What collection are you thinking of starting? None rn. Do you collect anything now? If so, what? I collect crystals n weird/random trinkets I find. When was the last time you painted something? Last year during senior year. Do you have any disabilities? I have t1 diabetes if that counts.  Do you have any unique or hidden talents? Not really. Do people call you gifted? Sometimes, depends on who you're talking to about me. Do people call you unique? Yes, quite often.  Do you get bullied? No. Do you own a dreamcatcher? I have one back home.  What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? Dynamite, garage, the X-store, and I can’t think of two more I love oops.  When was the last time you went to Michael’s? Never been there.  Do you knit or crochet? Nope. Do you enter craft projects in your county’s fair? ^ What modes of transportation do you use? Car.  What is your least favorite chore? Not sure, probably washing dishes.  What is the best gift you have ever given someone? No idea.  What is the best gift you have ever received? My Mac book hehe. Have you ever made a decision that you regret? Not really, I am not someone with regrets.  Do you make your own greeting cards? No lmao. What color feather boas do you own? None. Do you use colored hangers? All mine are white.  Do you organize your clothes by color? I only do that with my underwear.  What time does your alarm go off in the morning? 8:30 mon, weds, fri n 7:40 tues n thurs. What was your favorite toy as a child? My n64 and gamecube ,barbie dream house and littlest pet shops.  What do you want to name your first child? Lucy :) List ten favorite girls names. Fuck no bAby. List ten favorite boys names. ^ What season do you want to get married in? Spring or summer I think, I kinda want an ethereal eleven wedding with lots of green nature.  Is your Pinterest cluttered? No it’s extremely organized haha. Are you a trendsetter? You could say that. Do you want to be a trendsetter? I’m indifferent.  What was the last great book you read? Not sure. Are you a free spirit? For sure.  Has anyone called you a free spirit? Yes. Do you get more compliments or insults? Compliments.  Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Probably.  What is your favorite insect? Orchid mantis.  What bugs scare you? Big spiders, maggots, earwigs and other grubs.  What was your favorite vacation? I loved Disney world but also had a great time in P.E.I this summer.  Who picked your name, your mom or your dad? They both agreed upon it after meeting someone with my name. What is your first and middle name? U ain’t need ta know.  What were some other names your parents were considering when they had you? Cece or Virgina lmao.  What are your siblings’ names? ^^ Do you own any Lularoe leggings? Nope. What was the last thing you bought online? A moisturizer from Sephora.  Do you enjoy public speaking? Not at all. 

[pierresonalthoughts]

im feeling like talking about myself to The Void™

so heres a whole ask prompt that im just gonna answer without nobody really asking for it or reading it, actually

ice cream asks

chocolate: when was your first kiss?

when i was 16, bc my best friend had kissed my our two best friends in a party, drunk off champagne, and she surprise gave me a kiss like a week later to keep it even. I answered saying ‘hey, i guess its a nice time to tell u that im gay?’. we laughed, got real awkward and never talked about that again

but if its the actual kiss that i did wanna have + w a boy, it was when i was 17, one week before the college exam for the one im currently in. bc it is technically the most difficult college exam of the country, or at least the one with biggest competition, i was so fckn nervous that i went on a tinder date with some boy who ended up being such a bad kisser, such a bad conversation and an acquaintance to like half my closest friends.

french vanilla: how old are you?

18, but nearly 19

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to?

germany, japan and england. i used to want to go to USA but with the whole current shituation? nope

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

im trying to learn french, german and japanese so theres those

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?

no cosmetics, we die like goblins

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?

depends on the mood. i love walking through the outdoors but i literally spent 70% of this semester in my bed, so thats both a reason to favor both options

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?

nope, used to want to play guitar but rn ill just sing badly under my breath

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?

i have a little playlist of songs that im listening ad nauseum at all times, but rn its either Praying, the whole Melodrama album or the whole Red Velvet new album

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?

between two lungs, the only exception, sakura-colored time capsule

cheesecake: what's your zodiac sign?

libra sun, virgo rising and idk my moon or the rest rly

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?

pool is p much bootleg beach but i love both. but the whole beach is so good? walking by the shore, the activeness of the water, beach food, the sound of waves, just all in all 10/10

chocolate chip: what's your most popular post?

absolutely this 270k post

bubblegum: books or movies?

with the books i can just savor the story for way more time so books? and i can do it like at random times and places so thats right within my aesthetic whipping out a book at random moments.

but i both wish i had time to read in my shit rushed life and i definitely need more money to spend on actual books. so i end up watchin more movies since i can just watch it at 3am and with some easy pirating

pistachio: manga or anime?

same feelings about books vs movies

salted caramel: favorite movies?

i dont even know really

birthday cake: favorite books?

probably the hitchhiker series, but i love me some classical lit like jane austen and machado de assis

moose tracks: favorites for manga?

i love kuragehime with my life, mob psycho with my soul and jojo (parts 4,6,7) with my full love for extraness

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?

oh man, im going for the ones that made the most impressions on me, like ouran, madoka, bokurano, katanagari, nichijou and psycho pass

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?

like all? i shit you not that i liked all my subjects in high school and now in engineering college, i loved algorithms and data structures

black raspberry: do you have any pets?

nope but i rly want a cat

mango: when and why did you start your blog?

a friend of mine convinced me to read homestuck right after cascade, and when i read it i started following the updates here. so, since october/2011? the truly darkest times of this site. i remember seeing a full episode of doctor who in a 200 gifs gifset when photosets had no image limitation

mocha: ideal weather conditions?

i wanna say cloudy weather but that just makes me depressed. but i love when its raining enough to streets go empty but not enough to it being fully inconvenient when you have an umbrella, bc it makes for the most aesthetic strolls under a nice umbrella, with only my thoughts and music, and protected from the elements

black cherry: four words that describe you?

gay nerd depressed and supportive, i guess

neapolitan: things that stress you out?

my life, all the things i need to do and the possibility of stopping being good at the only things im good at

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?

i really cant find a pattern on my music taste so idk

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?

i absolutely sold my soul to Fini, not even a question

toffee: a card game that you're good at?

ill kick anyones ass in Uno and ill kick my own ass in solitaire

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?

yes im one of the few people i know that eats the breakfast from my college cafeteria, but thats mostly bc breakfast food is a loophole in my hundreds of picky eating no-nos

dark chocolate: turn ons?

any boy with piercings gets instant +3 on my 1-10 scale and im a sucker for perfume

fudge: turn offs?

general shitty personality, smoking and i guess i still have some fatphobia to deconstruct too

peach: how do you relax?

haha i dont. but i guess watching anime, scrolling through this hellsite, listening to some tunes, walking around aimlessly and making a cocoon out of myself in my bed count

praline: a popular book you haven't read yet?

im so out of touch with the current trends that i cant even say what i havent read

superman: do you like sweaters?

im living in hoodies for the last month or so but the general weather here is not exactly sweater weather and my hometown only goes from 25-31 celsius everyday of the year

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?

i hate tea and most of my liquid intake is in coffee with milk

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?

the piano i guess

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

ofc, either with videos in the interwebs and with my friends

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

a more efficient use of internet data when in mobile, bc good god im losing my life waiting for things to load

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?

i love every webcomic that i follow

almond: favorite mean girls quote?

“too gay to function” is absolutely an accurate definition of me tbh

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?

no color and 6/10 were bit off

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?

indirectly by a girl friend i had in my school, and by my bestfriend’s brother this may

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?

hahahaha im pretty sure i had at least four painfully hopeless and debilitating crushes on straight boys ever since 2013

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?

my sleeping schedule is so fucked up that i just pass out in the middle of the morning, afternoon or night, so thats both naps and my actual hours of sleep

mint: the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?

hahaha nope, not unearthing any memories, nope, thank you

brownie batter: do you like sushi?

no

key lime: where do you want to be right now?

i wanna be home, in fortaleza

red velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?

yea, ever since i was 5 and i cant see shit without them

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?

neapolitan, cream and theres an ice cream shop in my hometown that has a lemon pie flavor that actually sent my soul to heaven