#shoves affogato into my mouth

[b0nelessdoodles]

welp its that time of the year again where i post all the stuff that i never finished! so here have a collection of affogato shit ‘cause uh dude idk man he walked into my brain and acted like he owned the place oops

[surshica]

OKOKOK SO BASICALLY SOME IDEADS FOR CHISHIYA X READER:

reader invites chishiya over so he can help them with a subject wtv he basically makes fun of how he gets better marks then them and reader gets annoyed and they get 🤏 close to eachother but mira walks in.

TANGLED !

request : chishiya x fem!reader

genre : disney princess fluff — imagine

warnings : swearing — ooc chishiya — older sister!mira — tutor!chishiya — highschool imagine (idk it suits it better) — a little suggestive?? i think — not proofread (i don’t proofread sry..)

A/N : HAHA we love a good left hanging kiss, i feel like yall are into that atp or smthing 😭😭 i changed it up a little of that is fine <3

— CHISHIYA x FEM!READER

ılıl﹔ ◌ 𓂂 ˳⁺ 🔮 ꯭ ⊹ ⋆ ࣪

“no [name] thats not..” chishiya face palmed pointing back to the same spot, “look closely. this is not equal to whatever the fuck you wrote down.”

“WHAT?? but literally on the calculator it equals that..” you argued back, showing him all the steps. it made him laugh dare i say. “yeah it equals that because you did it wrong.” he grinned as the palm of his hand that was on his face ended up resting on his hand.

“no THATS LITERALLY HOW YOU DO IT. SEE SEE” [name] had grabbed his face forcing him to look at what she inputs into the calculator, “YOU DO THIS THIS THIS AND BOOM.” she had once again got the wrong answer but she was too ignorant to notice that.

[name] shoved the calculator in his face to MAKE him look at the answer; a frustrated groan left chishiya’s mouth. “listen,” he placed his hand on her wrist pulling in down away from his face; his swift movement had ended up pulling her closer to him. their noses skimmed eachother.

his breathe smelled like affogato coffee, a form of blush appeared onto [name]’s cheeks and her ears, “you are doing it wrong. you are forgetting to find the square root first—you jump ahead and start doing the equations before finding the root.” his voice was low but it was loud enough to make your stomach do flips n shit.

the way he held your wrist got you kicking and screaming in your mind, it was such a soft yet rough hold. the way yours and his nose touched for a second…the things you could imagine. his strawberry scented cologne—so sweet yet it wasn’t sweet like a perfume. it was sweet yet still had that earthy tone most colognes have.

the way his lips parted eachother only to meet when he closes it, they looked so soft; you wanted a feel of them. his slow rhythmic breathing was calming, his touch/hold was calming, his cologne was calming, everything about him was calming.

“yn? are you listening?” chishiya’s voice had snapped her out of the fantasy she was having only to see chishiya side eyeing her like she was stupid. “oh yeah..sorry” [name] had apologized clearing her throat moving away from chishiya.

he just raised his eyebrow closer, scooting his chair a little closer to her; “well what was the last thing you remember?” he had stuffed his hands in his pockets but it had looked like he was fiddling with something.

“that we had to find the square root before doing the equation,” [name] had admitted expecting chishiya to be disappointed she had to come up with some lie, “i’m sorry my mind is somewhere else right now.” you dat there kinda akwardly—the lie itself wasnt bad it was the fact you were thinking about smashing your lips against his that made it akward.

chishiya simply laughed at you, “hmm alright” was all he simply said. slight confusion rose, ‘there is no way he is that dumb’ is what you thought — well really he isn’t. he knew you were eyeing him like a candy especially around the lip areas.

he just simply wanted to entertain that urge, “well your teacher didn’t show you this because class ended earlier than expected..” he leaned back in the chair, his arm sling over the back of the chair; a quick glance was all you needed. if it had been any longer that urge to smash your lips onto his wouldve been more powerful.

a cat like grin former onto chishiya’s face—even it had been a quick glance the two of you ended up making eye contact. to you; you thought it made things weird but to him he saw how your eyes got hungrier for a kiss.

he was never one to entertain someone’s urges bit right now, he wasnt just entertaining tours but bis as well. [name] had quickly looked back to the computer wirh math equations on it, doing what chishiya told her, she did. in fact get it correct.

her eyes sparkled and a smile former on her lips, “maybe you were right..” were the words that mumbled out your mouth. [name] had been so busy to finish all the questions she zoned out and had forgotten chishiya was near her.

she wanted to get it over with so he could leave, if he stayed any long the urges would’ve been too strong for her—hell she probably would’ve started daydreaming.

but to chishiya he didnt like this. you werent paying attention to him—he wanted your attention, and the fact you were more focused on that stupid screen with work problems made him pout.

he decided to scoot closer and closer to see if it would have an effect on you but nothing. upset he closed your laptop while grabbing your wrist pulling them closer to you. shocked by the sudden jolt, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“why would you close mu laptop!…” the tone was upset that slowly turned into a fluttery my words are caught in my throat tone, your noses that were skimmed before and now basically touching eachother.

“you weren’t paying enough attention.” chishiya chuckled. his cold breathing tickled your small unvisable facial hairs; a smile corked onto your lips, “not paying much attention to you? i thought you had told me everything i needed.” you commented snarky,

“i did but i forgot to tell you something else” his voice was smooth like butter—you had melted in his touch and his voice tone; that urge you had before were coming back and they were coming back stronger and stronger.

“im all ears, what do you need to tell me?” [name] quirked up an eyebrow, his breathing sent chills down her spine—giving the occasional chilly shake.

“well, i know you werent distracted by anything else before” he teased lifting up her wrist; his hand swiftly moved go her palms intertwining his fingers with hers; his cold hands were getting warmed up by her warmed ones.

“i dont know what you mean.” [name] laughed it off, “i saw you eyeing me when you put the calculator in my face.” his usual cold cat eyes turned soft for a few seconds, his hands wrapped in yours and those eyes; fuck it you were giving into those urges.

“well its kind of hard not too when you’re so close to me making my urges more and more desired.” you had snorted at him, a smile was found and it was the cutest. “would you call me a tease?” “yes i would” “good.”

chishiya placed his hand on her cheek bringing her closer for a kiss, your lips had skimmed eachother but the noise of the door opening broke the two of you apart. chishiya sat back in his normal position acting like nothing happened.

the amount of butterflies you had felt in that moment was unreal, the fluttering was loud you could hear it. the blush made your ears hot, touching felt as if they were on fire. the door opening caused you to sigh disappointed.

“the food is here, if the two of you want to eat,” mira had stated leaning against the door frame; the tension was al she needed. a small laugh escaped her tinted red lips.

“did i interrupt something?” mira stared at [name]’s bright red ears before glancing at the laid back unbothered chishiya. “nah we were just wrapping up the session.” chishiya pursed his lips in a thin line before getting up.

he looked down at the sitting [name], “i’ll text you about the next tutoring session.” he said walking passed mira, “are you not going to eat?” mira drowned watching chishiya walk to the door to leave their apartment. “nah thank you tho, i’m already full.” chishiya assured. and with that; that stupid teasing mf was gone.

mira inhaled crossing her arms, “soooo..what happened? i need to know.” a grinned smile was very evident, [name] just sat there. trying to process everything that just happened. (yk that picture of surprised pikachu? thats [name])

“he almost kissed me.”

“he what?”

“he almost kissed me BUT YOU BLOCKED IT.”

“oopsies daisy!”

tags — tell me if your user is misspelled + open

@nanamora @parkersmyth @trinmadol @noxceleste @eissaaaa @dr3amscap3 @arizzu @bwnniidump @kerenz @minyoungieee @saiewithakatana

[cookieofearthbread]

Conversation between Cookies - Accepting

@handfulofmuses

🗣Pome and White Lily!

Pomegranate was holding her mirror, sitting in a room that was dark and quiet, as she had plan to contact Dark Enchantress Cookie to update her on current status of what was happening at the laboratory (leaving the detail that Matcha blew up the place) and the best way for her to focus on the communication spell if there was no sound around her to distract her.

However instead of seeing the usual red dough with sharp, red, ruby, eyes; she was instead greeted with pale dough with soft, raspberry eyes instead; confusing the priestess for a moment until she realized what happened.

It shouldn’t be possible but yet… Why did her spell reach White Lily Cookie?

The cookie in the mirror’s reflection was even confused herself for a moment before her expression turned into a neutral one even though her eyes did narrow ever so slightly… No doubt questioning why the priestess was contacting her.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was ever so soft but firmed in tone; clearly wanting an answer from the priestess which the latter might as well humour.

“This was simply a mistake.” Pomegranate answered smoothly; using the sleeves of her outfit to hide her expression. “Although it is a curiosity how the mirror ended up reaching you instead of my master.”

There was a sigh from White Lily as the cookie shuffled before tugging on her cloak and taking a seat in the location of where she was which what Pomegranate could make out was a bedroom which was silver and had various flowers hanging from the ceiling alongside a bookshelves shoved to the side.

“It is certainly strange although the only explanation would be the connection that we both hold.” White Lily hummed; tilting her head to the side and placing her hand near her mouth; clearly thinking over the interaction of the spell which the priestess had to agree.

After all, her master and White Lily were the same soul even if they were so very different from each other as her master was magnificent whilst the ancient hero was insignificant in the slightest with the only noteworthy thing about her the simple fact she held the ‘Light of Freedom’ in her grasp.

“... Do you believe in destiny, Pomegranate Cookie?” White Lily asked; catching the priestess off guard with the sudden question.

“It is the reason why I’m serving her as it is my whole destiny.” She replied; wondering why the other asked in the first place.

“Then… Do you believe destiny can be changed? Or at least ever-changing?”

Pomegranate frowned when the question was asked, not knowing why the hero was asking the questions in the first place. What was the point of her asking in the first place? What purpose did these questions serve?

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I believe that it can change.. May it be for better or for worse… As I don’t think everything is set in stone.” White Lily answered; her eyes staring to the other, which admittedly left the red priestess uncomfortable. 

“What is the purpose of this conversation?”

“The purpose of this conversation is that… Have you ever wondered if the destiny you saw in your past could possibly be not the same destiny as the one you have now? That at some point that the path you are walking down has changed?”

This resulted in the priestess scowling at her before ending the spell and the contact; seeing that the conversation was heading in a direction that would have wasted her time as it was clear the hero was naive.

She got up and open the door; her eyes shifting across the room before landing on Poison Mushroom who was fast asleep and being watched over by Affogato Cookie who was reading a book to himself.

Her destiny was set stone and nothing would change that… No matter what…. As it was her destiny…

... She will try to contact Dark Enchantress Cookie another time.

[sunsoothed]

sweetmeat

CHAYENZO NATION GUESS WHO'S BACK !! WITH HIGH SCHOOL CHAYENZO !!! i lowkey missed writing for these two, heh. beware of teenagers and light angst.

word count: 1334

read on ao3

enjoy :]

-

“Can you even eat this stuff?”

“Just because I’m from Italy doesn’t mean I’m an alien,” Vincenzo growls, stabbing into his sundae with great force. “You’re so annoying.”

Chayoung smiles, all polite, her words anything but. “But I’m also the only person who has the guts to talk to you, so play nice.”

He makes a point of chewing a whole slice of chicken at her. She keeps the eye-contact.

“I don’t think you know how lucky you are,” she continues, still on her triade, “that I chose to approach you.”

Vincenzo nods along.

“Yah, you know what people would do to you if I didn’t have your back?”

“Beat me? Lock me in the toilets like in the dramas?”

“Well,” her face pulls into one of her overdramatic grimaces. “I mean, yes?”

Vincenzo blinks at her, all playfulness dissipated. “What do you mean, yes?”

“You asked, I answered,” Chayoung shrugs. She watches him take a sip from his cup of water.

“What?” she probes, brandishing her chopsticks towards him. “I thought you were very tough. You’re pretty competent on the field.”

“Sports is different,” he insists. “Papa told me not to get into trouble.”

“Do you think you can avoid trouble? With that face?”

Affronted, Vincenzo places a hand on his cheek. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Exactly.” Chayoung makes a point of it, tapping her chopsticks against her plate. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

He huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “You did not just compliment me.”

“When did I?” she mutters. “Who would compliment you.”

“No, you’re right,” Vincenzo sighs. “Who would compliment my flawless face?”

Chayoung scowls and looks away, interest somehow doubled in her food. He watches her with a small smile at play. After a moment — before she can catch him looking — he, too, returns to his food. He doesn’t like sundae, but something about Hong Chayoung always has him needing to restore his ego.

-

Vincenzo watches her, again, as she walks ahead of him. It’s safer to watch her back. “What’s the real reason, though?”

She turns on her heel. “Hm?”

“You’re walking me home now. Are you still trying to save me from bullies?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chayoung asks, as if it’s obvious. “Things are worse outside school, you know.”

“Are they,” he intones.

“Dreadfully so. Once knew a guy who was chased all the way from here to Myeondong.”

“Myeongdong is…”

“Far away,” she informs.

“Far away.” He nods back, sagely, all-accepting.

And silence. Vincenzo takes a step closer, then a step faster, aiming to match her tempo, but she’s too quick for him.

He runs a hand through his hair. “So do you live around here, then?”

“Mm. Just ahead, on the left there’s a road that has two seven-elevens eight stores apart.” She holds two fingers up, demonstrating. “If you pass the second one, there’s an intersection, and from the intersection you need to walk about six houses down before there’s a right turn, and there’s my house.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t,” Chayoung decides. “You’ll get lost very easily. Don’t stray, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

-

“Here, too?”

Chayoung claps his shoulder with more force than necessary. “Especially here. Do you know what will happen to you with that face of yours?”

Vincenzo, hands haphazard, only manages to cover half of said face. “You keep talking about my face, my god.”

“It’s a dangerous one,” she says, very seriously. “Very dangerous face.”

Vincenzo contorts this oh so dangerous face of his into a scowl, then very pointedly stares at the books in front of him. He thinks Chayoung will try and retaliate in kind, or she might berate him for being uncool, but she only stares at him for a second, and then actually starts working. Vincenzo blinks into the distance of the empty library, then starts on his work, too.

After an unspecified amount of time, Chayoung kicks his shin under the table. “Will you help me solve this sum?”

She doesn’t need help. That much even Vincenzo knows. He leans over the table regardless, deciphering her chicken scrawl with ease, then underlines a particular step with his pencil.

“Look here. You’re not transposing properly,” he says. Beside her working, he starts writing his own.

Chayoung’s eyes narrow in concentration. “It’s an x+7. What’s there to transpose?”

“No, no —” Vincenzo draws a line between her sum and his solving “— you need to make your expression like this so that you can find x. You won’t be able to find it like that, because the —”

“Cos pi-by-two won’t cancel out,” Chayoung fills in. She nods to herself. ���Got it.”

Vincenzo draws a little star by the answer. “It’s not like you to not understand it.”

She leans forward, chin in hand, eyes serving a question to him. A question which he horribly misinterprets, for he mirrors her, leaning forward himself. Chayoung blinks at him, unquestioning but not uncurious, watches silently as his face slips from his hand, owing to the moisture in the air, and with smugness, says, “This is a library, Vincenzo Cassano. We don’t do these things here.”

-

“How much was it? Fifty thousand won?”

“Yah, we agreed on seventy-five thousand. Don’t go back on your words.”

Vincenzo stops, gravel under his shoes striking once and laying dormant. That’s Chayoung’s voice.

“Seventy-five thousand? Are you out of your mind?”

“Look here, Jaehwa.”

Vincenzo peers around the side of the building, catching sight of Chayoung and a few other girls in the area behind the dance studio. It’s three against one.

“You told me twenty-five for approaching him, twenty-five for making a move, twenty-five for a date. Doesn’t that add up?”

Approaching him, making a move, a date. Vincenzo bites his lip. He doesn’t remember a date.

“You’re twisting my words —”

Vincenzo tries to get a better look. Chayoung has whipped out her phone now. “Listen to your own words.”

And sure enough, through the recording, sings this same person’s voice. Vincenzo watches, detached.

You’ve seen the new guy? He’s attractive, isn’t he?

He leans against the wall he’s partially hidden behind, one foot crossed over the other. The girl’s face is turning an angry red.

How much for you to seduce him?

Fuck off.

That sounds like Chayoung.

Ten thousand? Fifteen thousand?

He’s not worth that much.

Well, ouch. Vincenzo idly taps a foot on the ground, immersed in the conversation.

Okay, okay, twenty-five thousand.

To approach him.

What, no —

Twenty-five to approach him, twenty-five to befriend him, twenty-five for… a date?

A kiss.

His foot stills.

No. That’s too cruel, even for you.

Do you even —

How would your boyfriend feel, knowing you —

Shut up.

Vincenzo imagines her zipping her mouth shut and locking it, too.

So?

Twenty-five for approaching him, twenty-five for making a move, twenty-five for a date.

Promise.

What are we, twelve?

Promise, or your father finds out what you’re doing.

Why do I even —

Put up with me? Because you need the entertainment and I have something hanging over your head. Why do I put up with you, that’s another story —

The recording stops. Well, Vincenzo supposes, that’s that, then.

-

“Are you hurt?”

“What by?”

Chayoung hands him an ice-cream bar. “I saw you.”

Reading the label, he raises an eyebrow. “You see me a lot.” Affogato.

She takes a bite from her nougat bar, leans over the railing of the terrace they’ve illegally occupied. “This morning. When I was talking to Jaehwa.”

“Jaehwa?”

“Short hair. Badly-done tips. You can smell her perfume from a kilometre away.”

“Ah, Jaehwa.” Vincenzo shoves his Affogato ice cream in his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Avoiding the issue, speaking with your mouth full.” Chayoung nods to herself. “Okay, I’ll drop it.”

He makes a show of shrugging. She takes another ruthless bite of her ice-cream, watches him, blinks once.

Vincenzo can taste the bitterness at the back of his mouth for the rest of the day.

[hyucks-archive]

the roasted bean.

word count: 5,946

genre: fluff

member(s): just mark!

warning(s): none, but maybe some bad language and typos

author’s note: i swear 40% of the word count goes to hydrangea sweet dew tea… enjoy!

Day 441.

“What’s this?” you questioned, retrieving the gift that was wrapped in a cute comic strip wrapping paper. He grins in response, “Open it,” he urges. You start to pick at the tape that held the wrapping paper in place, careful as to not tear or damage the paper. He looks on excitedly, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

You pull out the rectangular object, revealing a notebook, engraved with his name and his birth date, in hand. You looked at him; he still had the same boyish, ridiculously cute smile plastered on his face. “Go on,” he urges once more, gesturing with his hand for you to open the notebook.

“Don’t tell me you got me a diary with your name engraved on it just to claim me as your possession,” you say, glaring at him, mind rid of any harmful intentions. He giggles, quickly getting up on his feet, “You open it, okay? I’ll go make us some drinks.”

He presses a soft peck on your forehead, running off to leave you to unravelling your gift.

You open the notebook, the pages already pre-filled with black ink.

Day 1.

“Should I?” you whined, tugging Wendy by the arm, hoping she could decide for you. The two of you were on your way to school, which meant that in another few blocks, you’d pass by one of your favourite cafés of all time – The Roasted Bean.

“A little caffeine wouldn’t hurt,” Wendy replies, flashing you a sweet smile. She already knew that you were definitely going to buy a cup of your favourite hydrangea sweet dew tea. You just needed to have someone to blame when you regret indulging in so much liquid before four blocks of lectures.

You smiled in response to her reply, throwing your arms around your best friend, giggling like the little girl you were at heart. With your arm linked with Wendy’s, the two of you continue your walk in the spring breeze, approaching The Roasted Bean within the next few minutes. You push the door open, the wind chimes sounding, notifying the café staff of the entrance of a new customer. Immediately, you were hit with the familiar scent of a mix of roasted coffee beans and fresh tea leaves, a scent in which you loved.

“Hey, the cashier’s kind of cute,” Wendy whispers, pointing in the direction of the said cashier. You looked over to be greeted by the pleasant sight of a male staff. He donned a boyish smile, hints of dimples on either side of his cheeks. His eyes, although hidden behind a round frame pair of glasses, were big and glistened in reflection of the light, his slightly curly hair jet black. Upon meeting eyes with you, he bows politely, smile widening. Out of pure manners, you acknowledged his greeting by returning the smile, quickly averting eye contact.

“Hi, welcome to The Roasted Bean. What can I get for you?” He says so naturally, question directed at you.

When you do not respond, Wendy nudges you in the side, “He’s talking to you,” she says through gritted teeth. Somehow, she managed to maintain her smile, but lets out an awkward laugh when the cashier boy flashes her a confused look.

“I’ll just get a hydrangea sweet dew tea to go, please,” you say, flashing a small smile at the cashier. He repeats your order, “Alright, one hydrangea sweet dew tea to go. Can I get you anything else?” as he punches in the order through the monitor. You stared at the screen which reflected your order summary, eyes travelling upwards, past his hand, up his arms, to his chest. Pinned to the leather apron he had on, positioned at his left chest, was his nametag. ‘Mark’, it read.

“No, thank you,” you reply. He gives a slight nod of the head, grabbing a marker and a cup. “Name, please?” he requests, eyes fixed on yours. “Um,” you hesitated, eyes looking around as you scanned through the menu boards which were placed above Mark’s head.

“Horchata,” you state confidently, flashing a big, bright smile. You notice the look of confusion that flashes across Mark’s face for barely a second, along with the extremely disgusted, weirded out, confused look Wendy has on hers. Nevertheless, Mark retains his customer-friendly smile, scribbling down ‘Horchata’ on the cup.

He swipes your debit card and hands it back to you together with your receipt, directing you to the collection counter on the right. You bow and thank him, dragging Wendy along as she nags, “What the heck was that? What’s wrong with telling him your own name?”

You chuckle, hugging your best friend’s arm tight, “Come on, it’s fun.”

She smacks you lightly on the head.

Day 9.

“Remember to bring your textbooks for next week’s lecture,” the professor announces, dismissing the cohort. You shut your laptop, cross your arms, and heaved a sigh of relief, tilting your head from side to side to relief the tension in your neck from the two-hour lecture. Due to the intensity of the course, your fingers had to move feverishly despite the crisp, cold air that blew directly at you, causing your entire body to almost freeze to death.

“I swear, why do we have to take Mr Kang’s class? Why can’t he be like other professors? They all upload the study notes online, but this guy just uses his mouth, and nothing else,” you complain, throwing your head down to rest it on the table. If you weren’t so tired out, you would’ve jerked back up in reflex to the cold surface that was biting at your cheek.

“Alright, alright. I’ll buy you a hydrangea sweet dew tea to turn that frown upside down, okay?” Wendy coos, ruffling your hair. You jump up in excitement, rushing to pack your things, “I really like the sound of that,” you say, eyes gleaming in excitement.

It had been about a week since you last visited The Roasted Bean. Whenever you were stressed, you always craved and needed a cup of hydrangea sweet dew tea to calm yourself. It was the best pick-me-up you could ask for.

Soon enough, you found yourself approaching the entrance of your favourite café.

“Gosh, just because you take your time to walk over, it doesn’t mean that your tea is going to grow legs and run away,” Wendy says as she gasps for air, running a hand through her hair. “I swear, that was supposed to be a ten-minute walk, but we literally got here in three minutes.”

You chuckled, reaching out as you settled the stray hairs atop your friend’s head. “Come on, you can’t blame me. I’m just excited for my beautiful, fragrant hydrangea sweet dew tea.” She swats your hand away, rolling her eyes, before bursting out into shared laughter with you. “If only you were this enthusiastic about class, maybe we’d actually be early,” she comments, pulling you along as she enters the café.

“Hi, welcome to The Roasted Bean. What can I get for you?” The familiar voice greets. You turned towards the boy behind the cashier; you were greeted with the same customer-friendly, boyish smile. Only today, you noticed he had his hair combed back, and he didn’t have his glasses on. Previously, he wore a simple, plain black t-shirt. Today, he has on a white dress shirt, his sleeves neatly cuffed. He looks smart, and admittedly, even better looking.

You smile in response, “Hi,” you greet. “One hydrangea sweet dew tea to go, please.”

Again, Mark keys in your order through the monitor. As he clicks, your order summary is reflected on the screen in front of you. “Can I get you anything else?” He questions, eyes focused on the monitor. You look towards Wendy, “I’ll have a cold brew,” she says. He finishes locking in the order, grabs a marker and a cup, “Name, please?” he requests.

You hold Wendy by the wrist before she is able to reply. “Affogato,” you say.

Wendy smacks your arm, to which you do not react. Mark, on the other hand, still managed to maintain a smile as he scribbles ‘Affogato’ on both your cups. Again, he completes the payment transaction, returns you your debit card and receipt, and directs you to the collection counter on the right.

“Really? Affogato?” Wendy hisses, “What’s next? Macchiato?” She smacks you once more on the arm.

You giggle, “Isn’t it fun?”

Wendy rolls her eyes at you. “Don’t you think it’s weird though?” she says, eyes fixed in the direction where Mark was. You looked over too, raising your brows questioningly. “What’s weird?” you asked, following Mark’s every move as he prepared the drinks without even having to give the ingredients or preparation process any second thoughts.

“I mean, I think I would remember if someone told me their name was Horchata,” she says, turning back to look at you.

“Oh,” you say, meeting eyes with Wendy. “He probably just forgot. I mean, so many people frequent this café. Maybe he just doesn’t recognise us.”

Wendy hums in response, “I guess you’re right.”

Your eyes linger on Mark for a moment, before turning away as you engage in conversation with Wendy while waiting for your drinks to be done.

Day 26.

The morning spring breeze hits your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “Gosh,” you murmur, looking up at the pale blue sky. You reached back, grabbing the hood of your hoodie, pulling it over your head. Shoving your hands into the kangaroo pocket of your hoodie, you continued trudging on towards The Roasted Bean.

On entering, you searched for the cosiest seat with the least chance of interruption from any possible crowds. Spotting your favourite corner seat, hidden beside the entrance of the storage room, the sides of your lips tugged upwards to form a small smile, your footsteps noticeably lighter as you walked over, plonking your black backpack on the bench. Reaching into the pouch of your backpack, you pulled out your debit card, turning to head towards the cashier.

“Hi, welcome to The Roasted Bean. What can I get for you?”

Your eyes immediately snap up, meeting eyes with the only cashier who had been serving you since your past two trips – Mark. Today, his hair looked like a fluffy mess, his round frame glasses framing his face. The bright, sweet smile he had on had some effect on brightening your mood ever so slightly, in which you managed to huff out a smile in return.

“One hydrangea sweet dew tea, please,” you say, voice groggy from the time of day. You fail to notice the small chuckle that Mark had let out, your eyes fixed on the display of breakfast foods the café has to offer. Taking this as an opportunity, Mark stares at you a tad bit longer, admiring how your features seemed to blend so well together.

“Anything else?” he asks, waiting patiently for you to make a decision.

Without Wendy by your side, nobody could help your indecisive self make decisions. Without a choice, and without looking up, you asked, “Should I get the ham and cheese croissant or the chicken and ham panwich?”

“I’d go for the ham and cheese croissant,” Mark replies, making a mental note on how you couldn’t make a choice between a croissant and a panwich. His smile widens.

“Okay, I’ll have that,” you say, handing him your card. He takes it, swipes it, and hands it back to you along with your receipt. Just as you were about to walk to the collection counter, he stops you, “Name, please?”

You looked at him, brows slightly raised. “You need to write my name on the mug?” you questioned, confused.

Mark’s smile doesn’t even budge as he says, “No. I need a name to address the collection to.”

You nod your head in response, simply replying with, “Kaffeost.”

Day 27.

“Another day of mugging,” you mumble to yourself, grabbing your hair and putting it up into a messy bun. Throwing on your cardigan, you grabbed your backpack and headed out of the door. As you exited your building, you see Wendy standing by the pavement, her body hunched over due to the cool air. A smile forms as you call out, “Wendy!”

She looks up in reaction to your voice, scurrying over. She grabs your arm and hugs it tight, “The cold will be the death of me,” she says, almost whining. You laugh, running a soothing hand up and down her arm, in an attempt to warm her up as the two of you headed for The Roasted Bean. Yesterday, Wendy had a full day of vocal practise with her acapella group, so she wasn’t able to accompany you on a study date.

“Did you manage to complete a lot yesterday?” she asks, body still snuggled close into yours, continuing your walk.

You hummed in thought, “I guess. I managed to complete the notes for the first six chapters,” you say.

You lead the way to the same, cosy spot that you had claimed on the previous day. Wendy pats your head endearingly, “Wow. This is a good spot.” She takes a seat, already warming up thanks to the heating system in the café.

“What would you like? I’ll order,” you say. Wendy takes a moment as she scans through the menu, deciding to indulge in the classic hot chocolate. You tell her to wait a moment, making your way to the cashier to place the order. Once again, you were greeted by Mark, whom you somehow, already feel personally acquainted to. “Hi, welcome to The Roasted Bean. What can I get for you?”

For a moment, you contemplated as to whether or not you should ask if he ever got bored of saying the same exact sentence to every customer, but you figured that the two of you weren’t on the level of casual conversation yet. So instead, you proceed to place your order, “One hydrangea sweet dew tea and one hot chocolate, please.”

Mark taps away at the monitor, “No breakfast for you today?” He asks.

You look towards the display of food, pursing your lips in contemplation.

“Can’t decide?” he says, already done with keying in your order. Mark notices how you scrunched your nose in thought, your attention still fixated on the display of food. “How about eggs benedict? It’s a big enough portion for you and your friend to share,” he suggests. Your eyes immediately lit up in excitement, and Mark notices. He couldn’t help but smile a toothy smile.

“That sounds amazing,” you say, handing Mark your card. He processes the payment, then returns your card together with the receipt.

“Name, please?” he says. Today, you were prepared with an answer.

“Breve.”

At that, you fail to see the slight look of disappointment in Mark’s expression.

“How much was it?” Wendy questions just as you arrived back at the table, her hand already reaching inside her bag for her wallet. “It’s on me,” you say, stuffing the receipt, which is the last possible shred of evidence of the cost of the food, deep into your pocket.

“Fine, but next round is on me,” Wendy says, shrugging. You nod in reply, getting out your laptop, textbook, notebook, and pencil case in preparation to study. Wendy does the same. Just as she was about to say something, Mark calls from the collection counter, “A hydrangea sweet dew tea, hot chocolate, and eggs benedict for Breve!”

“Tell me you are not Breve,” Wendy says, deadpanning. You giggle, sending a wink towards your friend. She furrows her eyebrows, but you don’t give her the opportunity to smack you. Swiftly, you slid off your seat, heading towards the collection counter.

Mark nods his head in acknowledgement, dropping you a, “Enjoy,” before resuming his duties.

“Seriously? Breve?” Wendy starts, “And this guy just accepts whatever the heck your name is, even though it’s literally different every day?”

“I’m still with the belief that he simply doesn’t remember me,” you say, placing the mug of hot chocolate in front of Wendy. She shakes her head disapprovingly, “I guess he’s not the only fool. You’re one too.”

You brush off Wendy’s comment, setting the plate of eggs benedict between the two of you.

Day 34.

After realising that all the seats at The Roasted Bean only had one power socket, Wendy and yourself have collectively made the decision to study at your apartment instead. In saying that, it has been a solid week since you’ve been able to indulge in your beloved hydrangea sweet dew tea, and you were affirmative that if you didn’t drink a cup of it now, you wouldn’t be able to survive another day of mugging for finals week.

Wendy had agreed to stay at the apartment to wait for your lunch delivery while you headed to The Roasted Bean for your tea fix.

“Hello, you’re back,” Mark greets, smiling brightly. “Haven’t seen you in a week.”

“No ‘Hi, welcome to The Roasted Bean. What can I get for you?’ today?” you ask, amused. He shrugs, running a hand through his fluffy, black hair, “Figured I could use a change.”

“Sadly, I can’t. One hydrangea sweet dew tea to go, please.”

Handing you back your card and receipt, Mark grabs a marker and a cup.

“Name, please?”

This time, you contemplated whether or not you should ask if he genuinely couldn’t remember your ‘name’, given that you’ve literally given him words from every category of The Roasted Bean menu, or if he was playing along with you, perhaps for personal amusement. However, you decide against it, concluding that it probably didn’t matter to him. He was, after all, just a barista doing his job. No part of his contract states that he had to remember customers’ names.

“Galão,” you state.

You turned away so fast that once again, you failed to notice the heavy breath Mark lets out. Yet, he still had on his signature customer-friendly smile as he proceeds to prepare your drink.

Day 44.

Finally. The first day of finals week, also known as, five days closer to the end of torture.

You decide to stop by The Roasted Bean on your way to university. You genuinely needed the energy and mind boost from the amazing tea, which Mark seemed to concoct so well. Instead, you were greeted by an unfamiliar face. Although he had on the same type of customer-friendly smile, his didn’t seem to be as charming as Mark’s is.

“Welcome to The Roasted Bean. What would you like?” he says.

“Um, just one hydrangea sweet dew tea to go, please,” you reply.

“How can I address you?” he says.

“Uh, just the letter M will do.”

The hydrangea sweet dew tea today wasn’t as sweet nor fragrant as what you were used to, and you couldn’t help but have the recurring thought as to why Mark wasn’t working today.

Day 45.

Yesterday’s hydrangea sweet dew tea failed to satisfy you. Maybe it was the stress from examinations, or maybe it was because of the person who prepared it, you weren’t exactly sure why it didn’t give you the energy and mind boost that you needed, but you knew you definitely needed another fix today.

Entering the café, you looked towards the cash register, only to be greeted by the same guy from yesterday. Was it… disappointment? Were you subconsciously hoping to see Mark?

“Hi again,” he greets. “What would you like today?”

“One hydrangea sweet dew tea to go, please,” you say, passing him your card. He finishes off the payment, “M, right?” he says, marker already in hand.

You nod your head in response, collected your card and receipt, before walking towards the collection counter. The guy had only seen you once, but he already remembered your face and your ‘name’. It made you miss the little fun you had giving Mark a different ‘name’ every visit.

You thanked the barista, grabbed your drink, and headed for university.

Today, the questions you had regarding Mark’s whereabouts are more prominent than before.

Day 47.

You had overslept the previous morning, which resulted in a groggy, unfocused, irritable state during the examination yesterday. It was more than obvious now that you needed a hydrangea sweet dew tea to kick start your day.

As you looked at the barista, or, as you’d like to term, ‘replacement-Mark’, you wondered if it would weird him out, should you ask about the reason behind Mark’s absence. “Hydrangea sweet dew tea to go?” he says, pulling you away from your own thoughts. You nod in response; you kind of missed Mark’s never-changing greeting, as well as his persistence in (probably) feigning oblivion to the fact that you only ever drink one specific drink from The Roasted Bean.

After collecting your drink, the thought as to whether your morning runs to The Roasted Bean, was genuinely just to curb your hydrangea sweet dew tea cravings, or if you had another hidden agenda. You swat the thoughts away, taking your notes out to recite as a form of last-minute revision.

Unfortunately, your curiosity with regards to Mark’s absence was beginning to overpower all available space left in your brain.

Day 50.

You had fought the urge to visit The Roasted Bean because a) you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to wake up any earlier than you had to, and b) you were too preoccupied with revising, you didn’t really have the time to crave hydrangea sweet dew tea.

But, now that finals were finally over, you had all the time in the world to drink as many hydrangea sweet dew teas as you deem fit. Meanwhile, Wendy had one more paper to study for, which is why she had no choice but to reject you when you asked her along. She didn’t forget to leave a text nagging at you to stop playing a fool with all of your fake names.

“It’s not like he’s going to be there to play along, anyway,” you murmur in response to Wendy’s text. Sliding your phone into your back pocket, you pushed the door open, the wind chimes whistling with the breeze.

Your expression immediately lights up.

“Hi, welcome to The Roasted Bean. What can I get for you?” he greets, the same, boyish smile plastered on his face. Only, you didn’t notice the extra gleam of excitement that sparkled in his eyes. You walk towards him, face reflecting his exact expression.

“You’re back,” you blurt out, too quickly for you to even think your words through. Luckily, Mark doesn’t allow you the chance to regret, for he replies, “I’m glad someone noticed.”

With his response, you thought it would be suitable for you to clarify your burning queries.

“Where have you been?” you question, hands resting on the counter, fingers picking at each other. It was one of your nervous tics, which you tend to do, subconsciously. But Mark notices this, and he makes a mental note of it – picks at fingers when nervous.

“Well, you’re not the only college student. I had finals too,” he says.

“How do you know I’m in college?”

“It’s kind of obvious when you study in a café without budging all day.”

You chuckle at that, only recalling now that you had spent two full days studying in the corner of this café, where Mark could see you, very clearly. You contemplated as to whether or not you should ask how he’s able to cope with studying for his finals if he were working every day that led up to finals week, but you don’t get the chance to.

“So, what can I get for you?” he says. Your smile widens at that – finally, a chance for you to recite your order.

“One hydrangea sweet dew tea to go, please,” you say, holding out your debit card. He takes it, swipes it, and passes it back to you, with your receipt. As usual, he reaches for a cup and a marker, “Name, please?”

Your smile grows even wider. Mark, still donning his beautiful, toothy smile, tilts his head questioningly. You hesitate for a moment.

“Viennois,” you decide on.

Once more, you fail to notice the slight disappointment that flashes across Mark’s face briefly. He mumbles a, “Next time,” under his breath, moving on to the preparation of your drink.

As you sip on the familiar fragrance and sweetness of the cup of hydrangea sweet dew tea that somehow, only Mark was able to create, you think about the possible reasons as to why Mark never asked for your actual name. Maybe Mark just couldn’t care less. Maybe this was all for the sake of customer service.

You didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t even decipher the feeling that overwhelmed your entire being when you saw Mark today.

Day 73.

“And just why in the world do I have to drive another thirty minutes for The Roasted Bean when you literally have one, a seven-minute walk away from your home?” Wendy whines, throwing her body onto the couch, refusing to even budge. “Come on, it’s the nineth time you’ve made me do this. Just why exactly can’t you go to The Roasted Bean around the corner?”

You shrug,

“I just think the hydrangea sweet dew tea is nicer at the other Roasted Bean.” Lie.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you only drink half the cup before dumping the remainder in the bin. And, if the tea were so nice, you’d have it once a week, not nine times in three weeks!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up into the air in exasperation. Truth.

“Well these days I’m just craving it more,” you retort. Lie.

“Then there’s no reason why we need to drive thirty minutes for it. Let’s just walk seven minutes for it instead,” Wendy says. You really didn’t want to.

“Fine, I guess I won’t have my hydrangea sweet dew tea fix for the day,” you say.

Immediately, Wendy squints, staring you up and down. “That’s fishy,” she says, getting up from the couch. She crosses her arms, walking in a circle around you, “What are you avoiding that you simply can’t go to The Roasted Bean that’s just around the corner?”

“Nothing.” Lie.

“Then let’s go,” Wendy says, grabbing her bag.

You sigh, getting up from your position. You knew you wouldn’t be able to outsmart Wendy, neither would you be able to convince her that you weren’t avoiding anything, because you clearly were. And what exactly were you avoiding? Simple. Mark, the barista.

Why were you avoiding him? Because you felt this unfamiliar, unwelcomed rush of emotions every time you thought of him. At this point, Mark liked to pop up in your thoughts once in a while, the memory of his boyish, charming smile pinned in your head. You honestly just didn’t want to face it. You didn’t want to admit to yourself that you were living the fictional lie of falling for the barista, because you knew it would never end in fruition. It just wasn’t possible.

With dreadful footsteps, you followed behind Wendy as she led the way into The Roasted Bean. Standing right behind the cash register, with his never-changing smile, was Mark.

“I’ll go sit, and you can go order,” Wendy informs, making her way to one of the available seats by the wall. You gulped, biting the inside of your lip as you made your way forward.

“Wow, it’s been three weeks,” Mark says. You noticed how his smile wasn’t as bright as it usually was. Today, there was a dash of solemn, coupled with a dash of relief. “Yeah, it has, hasn’t it?” You internally berated yourself for that lousy, lame reply.

“Where have you been?” he asks, the exact words you had used when you asked him the same question a few weeks ago.

“Um,” you hesitated, scavenging your brain for an answer of some sort. “I’ve just been hanging out with my friend.”

Mark nods his head, seemingly accepting of your answer.

“So, would you like your usual?” he asks. It was different this time. He was acknowledging that he knew and remembers your specific order. And for some unknown, probably absolutely ridiculous reason, you felt a feeling of warmth spread throughout your body. Why?

“Yes, please,” you manage out, holding out your card. Mark makes sure to look you in the eye, still, with his pretty smile, before taking the card. The tips of his fingers brush against yours, awakening the butterflies in your stomach. A touch so simple, that probably meant absolutely nothing to Mark, was making you feel all sorts of things. The fool you were, to actually be developing feelings for a barista.

As you retrieve your card and receipt from Mark, you turned, ready to head for the collection point, before he stops you, “Hey!”

You turned, humming in response. Mark holds out the marker and cup in each hand, “Name, please?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered. “Cortado,” you say, about to walk away.

“No,” Mark calls out, grabbing your attention once more. You looked at him questioningly, to which Mark continues, “Your real name.”

“Huh?”

“This time, you were gone for 23 days. Next time, who knows how long you’ll be gone for. Don’t you think I deserve to know, at the very least, your name?” Mark continues to gaze at you, smile unwavering. You couldn’t comprehend how he could be so calm as he says those words. Was it a mere occupational habit he had? Maybe it was already his nth time relaying such a message to a customer.

“Why do you want know my name?” you question back.

“You give me a different fake name every time you come. I just want to know your real name, because I think you’re pretty cute, but here I am, having to scrawl ‘Cortado’ on your cup,” Mark says almost too quickly, that you almost failed to catch the part where he said ‘you’re pretty cute’.

Again, the fluttering in your heart. You couldn’t help the smile that instantly forms on your lips, as you rephrase his words, “You think I’m cute?” Your smile widens even more. Your fingers picked at each other, your heartbeat picking pace. You couldn’t even bring yourself to meet eyes with the boy, and with your vision fixated on the wooden countertop, you fail to notice the light shade of pink that painted Mark’s cheeks.

“I thought I made it pretty obvious that I am interested in you,” he says. “I don’t do small talk.”

“I kind of just took it as your top tier customer service,” you say. Mark’s grin widens as he watches you bite your lower lip, body lightly swaying from side to side. Mark notices the light tapping of your foot – another mental note; you have a lot of subconscious tics.

“I’m Mark,” he says. He bends down slightly, poking his face out a little, over the countertop, in an attempt to look you in the eye. “And you are?” he asks, finally catching your eyes. His gaze, although not very much different from before, definitely sent a whole different message. At this point, your heart is thumping erratically. You also couldn’t bear to ruin the moment by telling him that you already knew his name, since the very first day, thanks to his nametag.

“I’m y/n,” you finally reveal.

“I love that name,” he says, scribbling it down onto your cup.

Man, you have a lot of explaining you need to do to Wendy.

Day 76.

Honestly, you’ve been counting down the hours to this day. You felt that returning immediately on the next day would’ve been too tacky, so you decided that a three-day interval would be the perfect gap. You couldn’t help but wonder if Mark was anticipating your arrival. He did say he was interested in you. Even now, you couldn’t suppress the heat that rushes to your face with just the simple thought of Mark’s words.

“Hi, welcome to The Roasted Bean. What can I get for you?”

“No alternative greeting today?”

Mark scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “Honestly, I can’t think of anything else.”

You giggle, “You’re lucky I’m a fan of the original greeting.”

“I needed something that would leave an impression,” he says, with what could have, or may not have been, a wink. It kind of just looked like he had something in his eye. You laughed, and his teeth peeked through his smile.

“You had this all planned from the start?” you asked, resting your hands on the countertop, your body leaning forward. Mark mirrors your actions, leaning forward, a little bit closer to you, still leaving a decent amount of distance between the two of you. “How about I answer that question over dinner?” This time, you definitely saw the pretty pink that fills his cheeks.

“Oh my gosh I can’t believe I just did that,” Mark exclaims, clenching his fists, kicking the air while landing gentle punches to the cabinets behind him. You laughed, amused by his goofy actions as he internally cringed at himself. “Were you always this dorky?”

Mark shrugs, “Yo, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me.”

“Yo?” you repeat, furrowing your brows in confusion, a small laugh leaving your lips.

“So, dinner?” Mark clasps his hands together, anticipating your reply. You smile, nodding your head, “Dinner.”

“Oi,” Mark cheers, pointing a finger downward, as though he were some swaggy rapper.

Day 441.

Closing the notebook, you gently run your fingers over the leather cover, the engraved “MARK LEE”, and the date “1999.08.02” engraved below it. You haven’t stopped smiling since you began reading, your heart warm and fuzzy with the knowledge that Mark had actually bothered to give you a spot in his diary entries. The fact that he also had a legend on a page with all of the fake names you’ve given him; it was kind of expected given the nature of the boy. There were even scribbles scrawled between pages that seemed to hint at his efforts in trying to figure out what pattern you were using when deciding what fake name to give. Since it was purely random, he probably wasn’t able to come up with anything.

Getting up, you hugged the diary close to your chest, walking towards the living room, where Mark had already prepared an entire table setup. It was nothing fancy. Just some broken yolks, baked beans, slightly burnt toast, and strawberry macarons. It’s the effort that counts, right?

“You made all this?” you gasped.

Mark nods, taking you by the hand as he leads you to one of the counter stools.

“I really struggled. Wasn’t sure what I could do that would be special. I hope this isn’t too underwhelming,” he says so nervously, biting on his lower lip. Even so, he still had on his charming, adorable smile, and in this moment, he was more loveable than anything else. With your arms pressed against the countertop, you lifted yourself up, grazing your lips against Mark’s cheek. He couldn’t help but giggle.

“And to top it all off,” he turns to grab two mugs from the kitchen counter, before placing one of them in front of you. The all too familiar fragrance hits you, and without even looking or asking, you knew exactly what it is. You looked up at Mark with the most loving gaze, as he says, “Your favourite hydrangea sweet dew tea. Happy anniversary, baby.”

Mark presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you.”

[phantom-god-suki]

Well since I requested Omi I’m back to request my second best Kazunari! How about the first date kind of scenario ? (Just like in my last it can be SFW and NSFW. I don’t really mind too much). Thanks !

SKSK I LOVE KAZUNARI SO MUCH! Writing for him was so much fun oml. He is so goofy and I love it. He is my 5th best boi omg! I wanted to be wholesome for a change, so enjoy fluffy Kazunari ^^.  Thank you so much for requesting again! I enjoy writing for you! 

KAZUNARI X FEM!READER: FIRST DATE

SFW

You and Kazunari had been friends for about a year. Since you guys went to the same college, you two would always run into each other while traveling from class to class. You share the same History class and almost always sit next to him.

One day you walk into class and plop into your seat. He basically screams hello to you and points to his phone and then at you.You stare at him confused until you feel your phone vibrating. You pick it up to see a text from Kazunari. You glance at him and then read the text.

You look away from your phone at Kazunari, who has a stupid grin across his face. He starts to continually poke you while calling out your name.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N~ Does a cutie like you…like me?” He teases you.

You make a pouty face and playfully punch him in the arm. “So what if I do?” You roll your eyes and then look back at him. He stops poking you and covers his face with his hands.

“OML Y/N likes me! I’m like totes embarrassed but hype at the same time.” Kazunari uncovers his face and sticks his tongue out. “Too bad…” He pauses and you look at him, afraid of what he is going to say. “I like you too! HAHA did I scare ya.” He laughs loudly, holding his stomach tightly.

“SHHHHHH QUIET IN THE BACK!” The teacher yells. Kazunari got quiet and looked at the teacher, then back at you. He wrote something in his notebook. 

“Me + U= date Saturday?.” You write back to him, saying “Hmm I’ll THINK about it.” You slide the notebook back to him and he pinches your arm.

“Okay OKAY I’ll go!” You whisper to Kazunari and try to swat his hand away. He grabs your hand and winks at you.

FAST FORWARD TO SATURDAY

You were supposed to meet up with him outside the “Lunar Eclipse” cafe at 10:00am, but one too many hits of the snooze button made you arrive four minutes late. You looked around for Kazunari, but he wasn’t there either. You hope to yourself that he didn’t forget about the date or something like that. 

You go on Instablam and check out recent posts from your friends. You scroll down and to your surprise, see a picture that Kazunari posted 10 seconds ago. The caption reads ‘Bout to start my lit date with my gorge future girlfriend’ You blush at the caption and look at the picture, realizing that it’s of your back. You turn to see a flashing light in your face.

“Surprise selfie! Omg you look totes cute!” Kazunari smirks as he posts the picture of you. 

“Kazu! You scared me. Also, killer caption! ‘future girlfriend’? That’s pretty bold of you considering that this is our first date together.”

“Are you kidding me. We’ve been vibing with each other for almost a year now. PLUS…you know you like me.” Kazunari lifts his arm to signal for you to hold it. You sigh as you intertwine your arm with his. He holds the door open and lets you walk through first.

“Such a gentleman.” You elbow his side and he laughs. He tells you to go get a table while he gets some drinks. You grab a table in the back by the window and look over at Kazunari. You see him tell the barista something, barely making out what he said. “An affogato al cafè with strawberry syrup and a cafè con helio with a sprinkle of sugar on top”. You see him say some other things to the barista. She starts laughing and Kazunari takes out his phone and shows it to her. She types in something and he smiles and takes a selfie with her. He orders the drinks and then walks over to the table.

“I see you were having fun over there.” You point to the barista and back to him. He shows you the selfie and posts it on Instablam.

“We have the same bio class! She is super chill. I never got her Insta though, so I asked her for it and tagged her!” Kazunari grins as he reaches for your hand. 

“I’m on this date with you anyways, babe~” He squeezes your hand as if reading your mind.

“I wasn’t worried or anything…okay maybe just a little.” You laugh it off and continue to talk to Kazunari about school and random things until you are interrupted. 

“Hey Kazu, here are your drinks! Woahh are you on a date?” The barista says as she stares at you.

“Yup! This is Y/N, my future girlfriend! Y/N, this is Gia, my lab partner for bio class.” Kazunari’s smile grows wider as he introduces you two. She gives him a thumbs up and places the drinks on the table and walks away. 

You and Kazunari spend hours talking about nonsense and doing homework. Eventually, light coming in from the window turns orange as the sun begins to set. You wave goodbye to Gia and leave the cafe. Kazunari offers to walk you to your house, to which you happily agree. As he walks you to your house, he has his arm around your waist. Both you and him are silent, but it feels nice to just be with each other.

“Hey Y/N,” Kazunari breaks the silence. “So you know how I kept on saying future girlfriend?” 

“I mean you ONLY said it all day, but yes I remember.” You roll your eyes and softly shove your body against his. 

“Shut up! Let me finish pfft.” Kazunari tries not to laugh as he pulls you closer to him. “How would you like to make the future present.” 

“Whatever do you mean Kazu? I have no idea what you are saying.” You tease him.

“I mean,” Kazunari stops walking and turns toward you. “Wanna make it official?” 

You open your mouth to say something and then close it. Your lips start to quiver as a tear comes down your cheek. Kazunari quickly pulls you into a hug and kisses your forehead. 

“Why are you crying babe?” He questions.

“I’m just so happy…I’ve liked you for a while.” You sniff as Kazunari rubs your back.

“Me too Y/N…Me too.” 

AHH THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE! I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to ask for another headcanon from the list of animes that I have, another A3! Character or perhaps…ANOTHER KAZU KAZU ONE! Thank you so much for reading!!! -Suki❤️

[lynnearlington]

supercorp! 25 or 47?

I did bothhhhhhhhhh. K cool. 

25) Who wears the other ones clothes?

Lena doesn’t own much in the way of comfort clothes as Kara puts it. She has a section of her closet devoted to gym clothes, but that’s still tight yoga pants and tank tops, organized into matching outfits. She doesn’t own a pair of sweatpants and the only sweatshirt she owns, the one with Metropolis University emblazoned on the front, is hidden so deep in her closet that sometimes even she can’t remember where it is.

Kara, however, is almost the opposite. Amongst the many dresses and button downs and sweaters Kara has in a vibrant array of colors, there’s a whole part of her closet full of the softest sweatpants and fluffy socks and an entire shelf of well worn sweatshirts - a few that are clearly hand-me-downs.

When her girlfriend invites her over for a lazy Saturday curled up on the couch and marathon some show Lena’s never heard of, Lena shows up in jeans in a blouse because it’s the laziest outfit she owns. At least her hair isn’t in its usual form. Instead she opting for just throwing it atop her head in a tangled bun.

“Oh,” Kara says, eyes running up and down Lena’s form. It makes Lena feel uncharacteristically self conscious.

“Sorry,” Lena says softly, running a hand down her stomach.

“No, no,” Kara replies, pulling her girlfriend inside. “You look great. You always look great.”

Lena eyes Kara’s outfit with skepticism. The other girl is swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, one shoulder falling down attractively. Her feet are wrapped in this massive wool socks that tuck up around her grey sweatpants.

“I’m not much for-”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Kara interrupts and before Lena can blink there’s soft fabric being shoved into her arms and two hands are pushing her towards the bedroom. “We can’t have a lazy Saturday until you are officially lazy looking.”

With a laugh, Lena changes into Kara’s clothes and tries to resist shoving her nose into the collar of the sweatshirt where she gets a strong smell of Kara.

That’s how it begins. Lena snuggles up against Kara on the couch, wrapped in the warm smell of her girlfriend and soft feel of her girlfriend’s favorite clothes. It becomes a Saturday routine until suddenly Kara’s clothes seem to find their way home with Lena, folded or thrown haphazardly around her bedroom and closet.

Sunday mornings are spent reading the paper and sipping coffee as she sits on her deck snuggled in Kara’s old Metropolis Monarchs sweatshirt.

Plus, Kara always gets this look in her face when she catches Lena wearing her clothes and even if they weren’t the comfiest thing Lena’s ever put on her body, she’d do it anyway if she just could keep the soft turn of Kara’s lips and happy scrunch in her eyes.

47) Who has the more complex coffee order?

Lena drinks her coffee mechanically, like it’s just a part of her morning routine that she can’t function without. Refueling is what she often calls it.

It’s not that she doesn’t take pleasure in it because she does. That smell of her first cup of black coffee sometimes makes her close her eyes. At that first whiff she can relax in her kitchen and enjoy the morning stillness while her coffee steeps.

It changes when she meets Kara. It changes even more when they start dating.

“Pumpkin spice is out today!” Kara practically squeals, clapping enthusiastically as she grins at Lena. It’s way too early for this level of pep and Lena’s barely able to keep her eyes open as she pulls a container of coffee beans from her fridge.

“Exciting,” she drawls, plugging in her grinder. She’s halfway to scooping out the right amount of beans when Kara’s hand stills her, warm fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you.” She squints over at her girlfriend, still trying to wake up. Five hours of sleep and the prospect of another long day of work making her feel cranky.

“So let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Noonan’s.”

“Kara, can I just have my cup of coffee?”

Kara’s lips thin, her narrowing eyes glancing back and forth between Lena and the coffee beans. “You know what, you’re right,” she says and Lena’s having trouble tracking this conversation. She’s a little useless before that first cup. “I’ll go get it for us.”

Before she can even form the what in her mouth, Kara’s zoomed out of the kitchen and out the balcony. Lena watches for a second, eyebrows raised as she observes the clouds in sky before she turns back to her earlier task.

Five minutes later, just as she’s stirring her now ground beans into hot water in her french press, Kara comes zipping back into the kitchen holding a tray of coffee and a bag of some baked goods that smell amazing.

“What’s that?” Lena turns to watch her girlfriend, butting back up against the counter and crossing her arms.

There’s a playful grin on Kara’s face as she sets the tray down and plucks a cup out, giving it an exaggerated sniff and waving it towards Lena as she walks over. “Pumpkin spice, fresh off the pumpkin,” she jokes and Lena rolls her eyes.

“There is so much sugar in that,” Lena says, trying to remind her alien girlfriend that not everyone metabolizes it the same way.

“First of all, I got you sugar free,” Kara explains, holding the cup. “Mostly. And second, live a little.”

Lena takes the cup with a thin disapproving smile. It does in fact smell good and her body is practically aching for caffeine, but she’s never been one for the complex, sugary drink orders like Kara is.

“Come on,” Kara entreats. “You like risks.”

“It’s coffee, Kara,” Lena deadpans, the smell of it finally hitting her nose. It reminds her of fall walks and brisk winds and Kara’s warm hand in hers.

“Exactly. What could it hurt?”

She takes a tentative sip and schools her face not to react. The drink is hot, but sinfully delicious and she feels it warm down her chest and bleed energy back into her bones almost immediately.

Kara’s got her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips as she watches Lena enjoy the drink.

“Don’t be smug,” Lena warns, taking another sip.

Putting her hands up defensively, Kara just laughs and reaches for her own cup, holds the bag from the bakery in the same hand. She extends her free hand towards Lena and pulls them both to the living room couch.

It’s quiet and perfect as they sit there tangled together, taking sips of coffee and trading bites of an almond croissant. Lena finally feels like she’s awake and ready for the day.

“There was this coffee shop in Portland,” Lena offers randomly, thinking about a time when she wasn’t as concerned with overly sugary coffee orders or hanging around in public coffee spaces.

“When were you in Portland?”

“I interned there for a summer,” Lena answers, elbow braced on the back of the couch as she looks over at her girlfriend.

Coffee abandoned, Kara runs her hands up and down Lena’s shins soothingly. “Oh, cool.”

“There was this coffee shop that made the best affogato. I used to have it at least three times a week when I could.”

Kara’s nose scrunches up in apparent confusion. “Affogato?”

The idea that Kara, her food and sweets enthusiast girlfriend, has never heard of an affogato startles her. “Yeah, the drink.”

Kara just shakes her head slowly, continues to wait for an explanation.

“It’s ice cream with coffee poured over it, like a shot of hot espresso. I suppose it’s more dessert than drink, but at Heart they used coconut ice cream and it was delicious.”

As Lena explains, Kara’s eyes go wide and Lena has to laugh at the expression. “You’d like it,” she murmurs, tugging at a curl of golden hair.

“Let’s go,” Kara says suddenly, throwing Lena’s legs back to the ground and standing.

“Go where?”

“Portland,” Kara answers like it’s obvious, like people can just decide to go to another region of the country on a whim.

“Kara, we can’t just-”

“The joy of dating Supergirl,” Kara says, scooping Lena off the couch abruptly. “Is that if you want ice cream from Portland. You can get ice cream from Portland.”

“It’s coffee,” is all Lena manages before Kara’s floating them towards the balcony. “Did you only listen to the part about ice cream?”

Kara shushes her with a grin and Lena just grips tighter around her girlfriend’s neck, resigned.

[grooveoflife]

Mission: Every week I will visit a new café/coffee shop in Denver. The daunting part of this plan is that I intend to write, blog, at each one. My idea is to have 2 segments. The first part, “the fact,” of the blog will be my experience at the café, a review if you will, how I’m feeling, what I see, etc… The second part, “the fiction,” will consist of a fictional story that I come up with while at the café. I’ll be grabbing onto my surroundings, the vibes, and my feelings to inspire a short story.

the fact

The Santa Fe art district is looking fresh. Despite the dirty snow piled up on the side street parking spots, this Sunday morning is pretty, cold, and bright. Walking into the Joe Maxx Coffee Company I push onto the right side of the door, no budge. A quick sweat of panic sweeps over me as I think to myself, “dammit Emily, you didn’t check to make sure they are open today.” I pause for a moment then push onto the left side of the door and it sways open. I’m definitely one of those people who acknowledge my awkward moments, but alas, no one was around to hear my ramblings. It’s pretty empty in this coffee shop this morning, with the exception of a table of middle-aged women loudly talking amongst each other.

Before I grab a drink, I head to the back of the shop to have a look around. It’s small, and the windows are shaded from the bright morning. The walls and floors are dark brown, and there are old rugs under each table. I choose a spot in the back corner on a couch that you would find at your friend’s grandparent’s house. I take off my coat and oversized blanket of a scarf and place them onto the couch. I go up to the front and take a moment to look over the menu. There are specialty coffee items on the menu like a White and Dirty, Spiked Lemonade, and an Affogato which is a scoop of vanilla ice cream drowned with a fresh hot shot of espresso. So tempted to order this ice cream based drink, I decide it’s too early for dessert, so I order the Kolache Latte which is a hazelnut latte topped with honey, whipped cream, and pecans—perfectly on the brink of desert. I ask the barista if I said it right, to which another barista standing near him corrects my pronunciation. I also order a slice of pumpkin bread. When he hands it to me he says “this is a massive piece of pumpkin bread.”

“Oh, awesome.” I excitedly reply. And it was in fact, a massive piece of moist pumpkin deliciousness piled onto a small glass white plate. While the milk for my Kolache Latte is being warmed and foamed, I look around at some of the funky art hanging on the brick walls. Music is being played, I’m assuming, from the plugged-in iPod laying on an old turntable. The barista calls out my coffee drink, and I go back up to retrieve my gooey looking over whipped cream drink in a to-go cup. Hurriedly, I head back to my spot and place my drink and pumpkin bread on the coffee table in front of the couch. I marvel for a moment at the toppings on my hazelnut latte. I’m also definitely the kind of person that has to eat all of the whipped cream off my drinks before I do anything else. I think it’s ridiculous letting it pathetically melt into your hot beverage without enjoying the creaminess of its intended state. 

So, here I am, slurping up the honey-topped whipped cream, which is making my lips gooey and messy, and I couldn’t be happier. I lick my lips of the thick honey, and resume scooping the rest of the whipped cream off the top with the fork I’m using for my pumpkin bread. When I finally finish off all the good stuff my drink is down to half full. I dive into my bread and eat about half of it while I look around the shop noticing how every corner is being utilized for something—decoration or purpose. The corner directly in front of me to the left has a small old wooden TV table with one of those old black and white TVs that have two knobs for changing channels and an antenna. “Cool,” I think as I shove a giant piece of bread into my mouth. I don’t even mind that the bathrooms are across from me. The “all gender restrooms” are hip with art, white bath tiles, and uneven brick walls. I even stand up and walk over into one of them to check it out. “Cool,” I say out loud this time. The one thing I always remember when I check out a new restaurant or business—the bathrooms, if they’re worthy. I’m all about cool bathrooms.

While I’m up I continue to walk around the small space of the back of the coffee shop. There’s an old piano with a bench covered in itchy looking fabric. Where sheets of music are meant to be, there are business cards placed along the ledge. I almost pick up one of a woman who connects to spirits, but then decide there are no spirits I need to reach out to, so I leave it for someone who really needs her services. I do, however, pick up a business card of a woman who claims to be able to “facilitate my self-healing” and also a card from the Colorado Ballet where their slogan on the bottom of the card is “Drink Beer, Dance, Conquer.” Smiling as I take my new finds back to my area, I sink down into the couch and pull out my laptop.

  ———————————-

the fiction

Billy laid his forearms on the sticky wood glazed bar of the dark dance hall. A Johnny Cash album played quietly from the turntable in the corner. Despite the warm bright morning, the hall was dark and cold. Before his first dance class, Billy liked to get to work early and have a bourbon at the bar. He’d been leading dance classes for 20 years, and just two years ago he bought this place from an old man whose wife had just passed. The old man was happy to hear Billy’s plans for the place. “Babe loved to dance. She would be happy to see this dump of a bar used for dancing.” Billy remembers the old man saying this, looking off into the distance for a good 30 seconds, and then handed Billy the keys saying, “Good luck, son.”

It took Billy three months to convert the old bar into a dance hall. He put in new wood flooring and painted the brick walls a deep red color. He put in a wall of mirrors across from the bar.  He left the old bar there, he liked it. Even though he couldn’t sell booze, he kept a stash of nice bourbon under the counter and would often drink either by himself or with some of his regular patrons after the late classes.

This morning was no different from any other morning. Billy offered morning classes every weekday starting at 10 AM. The people who attended the morning classes were mostly of the older crowd, and his favorite. They would come in loud, always laughing about some conversation they all had while walking together to the hall. Someone would bring in pastries or biscuits, and Billy supplied them with coffee. They would all sit around the bar and have a cup of coffee before they would start. They never got to the actual dancing until 10:30. He would pour the first cup of coffee as they were stepping into the door promptly at 10, and set down a new full cup at each seat of the bar. Each of them greeting him with either a loud “Billy!,” or a nod and a “mornin, Bill.” There was a good mix of men and women, most of them single. All were friends, and all met at Billy’s Hall.

For the morning classes, Billy changed up the dance every week. These people came here for the social aspect of the hall rather than the actual dance, so they didn’t mind the inconsistency of the dances. They actually seemed to enjoy learning new dances, laughing together as they misstepped. Today Billy was teaching swing dance, one that he’d done many times with this morning group.

This morning’s topic of conversation was about the new neighborhood community garden being built a block over. They were all talking about the plots they had already bought, and what they planned on planting in them. As each of them talked about the vegetable or flower they were planning on growing, everyone chimed in with what they would do with the plant—going on tangents on each topic.

“Oh, my grandkids LOVE watermelon, I’m going to grow that too!”

“Ooo I’ll bring in some homemade tomatillo salsa every week. Who likes spicy?”

“My father used to make the best fried green tomatoes…”

Almost in an uproar of volume, the group would excitedly chime in with responses.

Billy sat at the end of the bar, sitting on his stool behind the bar sipping on his black coffee. Smiling, he listened to each person’s response and chimed in with his own comical spats. The sound of coffee cups hitting the heavy wood bar, the rusted stools swiveling, and the clammer of the group gave Billy’s Hall a character that he never expected but, now, oh so appreciated. Billy enjoyed what this group made this place out to be.

He looked down at his watch. “Alright, people, 10:30,” Billy spoke loudly over everyone. In almost a single sweep everyone was out of their chairs, coffee cups left on the bar.

Mission: Every week I will visit a new café/coffee shop in Denver. The daunting part of this plan is that I intend to write, blog, at each one.

[bottledcake]

Flower Funeral (III)

I tried my best to keep writing _(:’3_/ I’m not good with writing English stuffs orz

CHPT 3

Xunran opened his eyes in the morning with a different ceiling with his room. The cotton sheets smelled unfamiliar, a faint smell of wood and flower. He climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes. It was a room with a bed, a simple desk, mirror, and cupboard. A sofa was placed by the window. He wasn’t in his home. He found his cell phone and wallet placed the desk beside bed. The clock showed 6 o’clock.

He found out he had changed his clothes to a soft gray tee and drawstring sweatpants. They were definitely not his. His clothes were nowhere in sight; he opened the cupboard but it was empty. His mind tried to find out what happened last night but nothing came out. He remembered visiting Ah Cheng’s home, having a dinner and wine.

Wine. Was he drunk? Xunran shook his head.

Xunran stepped out the room. He glanced around, finding out that he might be on second floor of Ah Cheng’s house. He recognized the first floor when he reached the stairs down.

The smell of coffee filled the first floor, made Xunran instinctively walked to the kitchen. Ah Cheng wasn’t there, but Xunran noticed bowls for two was placed on the table.

‘Good morning, mister Li.’

Xunran jumped a bit, finding Ah Cheng was behind him. ‘M-morning.’

Ah Cheng was smelled fresh of soap. His hair was down – hadn’t yet been touched with hair products but it was combed neatly. He wore black sweater and gray ankle swinger pants. It was rare for Xunran to see Ah Cheng with casual clothes.

Xunran felt bit embarrassed, he even hadn’t washed his face and he was sure his hair sticking out everywhere.

‘Breakfast is waiting,’ Ah Cheng gestured towards table, offering a seat for Xunran.

Xunran nodded and sat. Ah Cheng came over carrying a jug and poured coffee for Xunran. It had nice pleasant aroma like always. He brought over an earthenware pot filled with warm chicken congee and a plate of you tiao.

Ah Cheng filled a bowl and gave it to Xunran, then filled one for him.

‘Mister Ming.’

‘Hm?’ Ah Cheng sipped his coffee.

‘I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t intend to spend a night here.’ Xunran bit his lip.

‘It’s fine. You passed out yesterday and I thought it was better for you to rest.’ Ah Cheng assured Xunran.

Xunran scratched his head in embarrassment, ‘I should watch my intake next time.’ So if he passed out, could it be it was Ah Cheng who changed his clothes? Xunran gulped.

Ah Cheng snorted, he knew what was going on in Xunran’s mind. ‘It’s okay. I used to change my little brother clothes.’ He casually talked like nothing happened. ‘I have washed your clothes. It should be dry now.’ He continued.

‘Thanks. Sorry.’ Xunran looked down and took a mouthful of congee. His ears were red. He didn’t know whether it was bliss or not he was passed out, imagining those lean fingers unbuttoning his one by one.

Xunran shook his head, trying to erase the thought. It’s still morning, Xunran.

Ah Cheng raised his brows seeing Xunran who shifted awkwardly and hold his laugh.

----------

When Xunran was in the bathroom, he found out Ah Cheng had placed his clothes and a new toothbrush on the cabinet. His clothes were ironed neatly and his shirt fabric felt soft. He didn’t know what magic Ah Cheng used.

After finished showering he combed his hair with his hand, letting his hair down because he didn’t dare to touch Ah Cheng’s hair products – even though Ah Cheng had said to use whatever in the bathroom.

When he was out the bathroom, Ah Cheng was sitting on sofa, reading newspaper. He had change to his usual white shirt and gray khaki pants. His hair already styled.

‘I’ll replace the toothbrush, and wash the clothes and towel.’

Ah Cheng looked up and folded the newspaper. ‘Leave the toothbrush here. It will be useful if you want to spend a night here again.’ He walked to a cabinet and took out a paper bag.

Xunran blinked. ‘Ok…’ He put in the dirty clothes to paper bag Ah Cheng offered.

Ah Cheng looked at his wristwatch. ‘It’s time, or you’re going to be late.’ He took his car key, coat and gloves. ‘I can drop you at your workplace, or do you prefer other place?’

Xunran raised his brows, ‘At my office, please.’ He followed Ah Cheng out and waited him locked his house.

Again, out of his habit, Ah Cheng opened the passenger door for Xunran. Ah Cheng saw Xunran who awkwardly went in then smiled a bit.

‘Mister Ming?’

‘Hm?’ Ah Cheng still kept his sight to the road.

‘How do you know I need to get to my office today?’ asked Xunran.

Ah Cheng drove into highway. ‘Yesterday your friend Chen phoned you many times until I decided to take the call.’

Xunran sighed; it might be when he passed out again. ‘Sorry to bother you again.’ He said weakly.

‘It’s fine,’ Ah Cheng chuckled. ‘It’s like I have another little brother.’

Xunran then turned to Ah Cheng, frowning. ‘How old are you this year, Mister Ming?’

‘Hm? Why so suddenly?’ Ah Cheng laughed.

‘Because you don’t know mine, and I don’t know yours. I should know before I can become your di di.’ Xunran leaned back to his seat.

‘I’m 27 this year, how about you?’ Ah Cheng replied.

Xunran stiffed a chuckle. ‘Mister Ming, you don’t have any right to make me your di di. I’m 28.’

Ah Cheng grinned. ‘Well, it’s just a numbers.’

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

Ah Cheng parked his car and about going out to open door for Xunran. ‘You don’t have to, Mister Ming. I can open the door by myself,’ Xunran smiled then stepped out the car.

Ah Cheng snorted then stepped out too.

‘Thank you very much for the ride, Mister Ming. Also for the food and clothes,’ Xunran showed the paper bag.

This time maybe it was Ah Cheng who was blinded by the smile that the detective made.

When Xunran was about to turn, Ah Cheng grabbed Xunran’s hand, which brought the paper bag. He untangled Xunran’s fingers one by one.

‘Mister Li, you don’t have to insist washing these clothes,’ Ah Cheng took the paper bag from Xunran’s hand. ‘You can come to Jade Porcelain anytime for coffee. We don’t need reasons and excuses.’

Xunran looked baffled at first, and then he giggled. ‘We both have hidden motives, don’t we?’

Ah Cheng smiled and waved good bye to Xunran. ‘Good day, Xunran ge.’

When Ah Cheng had gone inside his car, Xunran blinked. Did Ah Cheng just call him by his name? And he added an honorific?

Xunran couldn’t help to smile while walking to the police office.

 ‘What happened with your hair?’ asked Chen when Xunran walked in.

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

When it was lunch time, Xunran decided to send Ah Cheng a message.

What should I call you? You have called me Xunran ge. I have to know my di di’s name

Ming Cheng or Ah Cheng it’s fine, Xunran ge <3

Xunran chuckled at the heart emoticon until he decided to stop because Chen seemed ready to tease him again about girlfriend topic.

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

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

Xunran scanned the board in front of him. He sighed; he might be spending reading the files again before sleep.

He leaned back into his seat and stared at Xiao Jing Rui’s photo. It was for around a year, and the suspect was regularly came back to put flowers. The suspect was very dedicated, especially when Xunran noted the place Fang Meng Ao body was found. It was hard to get to the place. Yao Yao said the suspect might have both respect and regret to the victims. A year was a long time; he would ask Chen or Li to interview more people around the area where Jingrui’s was found.

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

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

Ah Cheng opened his eyes to a soft cotton sheet. It was still smelled fresh; he remembered he put it on Ming Lou’s bed. He climbed out the bed, turned to window. Sun light glimmered through the sheer curtains. He must be dozen off yesterday.

He checked his phone. It was seven o’clock. Usually when he brought breakfast, Ming Lou already woke up and read his newspaper.

‘Have breakfast with me. You purposely bring breakfast for two, or do you think I can finish all of these?’

Ah Cheng smiled bitterly then stepped out the room. After he made sure he had locked the room, he took his coat that placed on the sofa in living room.

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

The avenue in the morning was always filled with various food stalls selling for people who needed a quick breakfast before work. Ah Cheng sighed. He didn’t have any mood to eat today. Did he ever eat something yesterday? He sometimes wondered how he could still function for these three years.

He passed the food stalls, ignoring the vendors who greeted him and offered their goods. Their voice turned into muddled sound which made Ah Cheng’s stomach felt tightened. He stopped and stood there in the middle of avenue, gulping his breath.

‘For you!’

Ah Cheng blinked. He saw one little hand with a bun. He looked up and a face of young boy was in front of him, who wore a blue jacket and jeans. His hair was tied a bit messily and paper bag filled with buns was in his other hand.

‘For you!’ He repeated while shoving the bun to Ah Cheng.

‘Thank you for your offer, but no. Thanks.’ Ah Cheng smiled to the young boy. When he was about to go, he felt his sleeve was tucked.

‘For you! No need pay!’ He took Ah Cheng’s hand and put the bun to his palm. Before Ah Cheng could reply, the boy already went away and disappeared between the people in the avenue.

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

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

Xunran walked across the boulevard with a box of affogato cake. At least this was the thing he could do because last time they met Ah Cheng refused his offer to wash the clothes.

He raised his brows when he saw unfamiliar man was sitting at the table by the window, reading magazine. Xunran thought maybe he was a customer.

Xunran pushed the shop door, making a faint tinkling sound. ‘Excuse me…’

The man looked up from his magazine. ‘Ah Cheng ge, I thought you said you would be gone till 1?’ He frowned seeing Xunran over from his head to feet then he seemed try to get his composure back. ‘I’m sorry sir, I mistook you with someone.’ He put down the magazine then stood up. ‘The owner is out for a while, maybe half hour later he will be back if you want to wait.’

‘Thank you, I can wait.’ Xunran nodded with a brief smile.

‘Please,’ he gestured to the seat area.

Xunran placed the box on table then sat. The man walked towards the counter, where Ah Cheng put his coffee machine and back with a cup of warm coffee. Xunran was already familiar with the scent of it; it was Ah Cheng’s special blend. Xunran thanked the man for the coffee.

He sat across Xunran, noticed the gift box that Xunran brought then leaned a bit, ‘Are you friend of Ah Cheng ge?’

‘Ah yes. I’m Li Xunran.’ Xunran nodded. The man called Ah Cheng casually by his name; he might be someone close to him.

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Ming Tai.’ He smiled, offering his hand to Xunran. ‘Maybe if someone doesn’t know my brother well, they will mistake you as my brother.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Xunran greeted, shaking Ming Tai’s hand. Weirdly enough, a little part inside him felt bit relieved when he found out the man was Ah Cheng’s brother. ‘Most people I meet thought I’m his brother.’ Xunran chuckled and covered his mouth a bit.

Ming Tai turned his gaze to Xunran. This fellow was really like a twin of his brother. The eye wrinkles that appeared when he laughed were almost the same with his older brother. The few differences were more into his character and maybe the style he wore. When he talked, Ming Tai immediately knew he wasn’t Ah Cheng ge. The smile he made was different, his brother was like a night sky and this fellow was the sun.

‘But Ah Cheng ge never once tell me about you.’ Ming Tai pouted. ‘How long do you know my brother?’ His eyes brightened, waiting for answer from Xunran.

‘Maybe about three or four months?’ Xunran said.

‘Hmm Ah Cheng ge made a friend is something new tho,’ Ming Tai muttered to himself. ‘Ah how about you join us for dinner tonight?’ He grinned. ‘Da Jie will be very happy to have more company.’

‘Eh? It’s your family time. I’m just an outsider,’ said Xunran hesitantly, shaking his hand. ‘Also I still have work this evening.’

‘Nah, it’s fine. I can get you after work, where do you work?’ Ming Tai took out his phone. Xunran made an awkward smile, thinking how to get away from the offer.

‘Ming Tai!’ Ah Cheng stepped in to the shop. ‘Xunran,’ He smiled to Xunran and turned to his little brother again, frowning.

‘I didn’t do anything.’ Ming Tai raised his hands while pouting. ‘I only asked your friend to join our family dinner. The more the merrier.’

Ah Cheng stared for a second, and then shook his head. ‘Ming Tai…’

‘Da Jie will be happy,’ Ming Tai interrupted. Then he turned to Xunran, ‘What’s your phone number?’

Xunran looked between Ah Cheng and Ming Tai. Ah Cheng looked concerned and Ming Tai was like expecting Xunran’s immediate answer. That was maybe he was very relieved that he received a phone call from Chen.

‘Excuse me. I… have to go back to work. Please enjoy the cake.’ Xunran smiled. ‘Good afternoon.’ He walked out the flower shop. He tapped his phone. ‘Yes, Chen?’

Ah Cheng turned to Ming Tai who made a ‘what’ face. Ming Tai leaned his chin to his palm. ‘Invite him, Ge. I don’t want to see you just staring down at plates all night. Can I open this?’ Ming Tai pointed at the cake box Xunran left on the table.

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

It was a tiring day for Xunran. This afternoon there was a case of robbery which fortunately it was solved in the same day. Although there were lots of leg work to do. He was very tired and a hot shower at home was a good idea. Xunran was tidying up his desk and got ready to go home when a message notification popped to his phone.

I’m outside.

Xunran hurried to the front office. Ah Cheng was waiting there, wearing black turtleneck and navy blue coat.

‘Hey, Xunran.’

‘Ah Cheng,’ Xunran looked at Ah Cheng with question on his face.

‘I just want to ask maybe if you want to join our family dinner,’ Ah Cheng said softly. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want. Ming Tai kept nagging me.’

Xunran was about to turn him down, because it might be a private family time. But if Ah Cheng had decided not to ask him to come, he would not bother himself to get him to his office; it might be his little brother instead who would come.

‘Ok… but,’ Xunran said.

‘But?’ Ah Cheng raised his brows.

‘Let me change first. I had a case this afternoon and I had to run, lots.’ Xunran laughed. ‘Just give me a minute.’

Ah Cheng nodded. Xunran stepped back into the office. He remembered that he put few spare clothes in his locker. After few minutes he decided with a chambray shirt which was found tucked between his tees. He found a pair of white slim chino pants and changed. Next time he should put more spare shirts in locker, Xunran noted. He hoped this was good enough for a family dinner – though Xunran thought he was still undressed.

Ah Cheng and Xunran walked together to the parking lot. Like always, Ah Cheng opened the door for Xunran and then got in on the driver’s side.

As Ah Cheng pulled away, Xunran could feel his stomach tightened. Was he too early to say yes for going to Ming family dinner?

‘You okay?’ Ah Cheng asked, after a while.

Xunran nodded.

‘Don’t worry; it’s just a casual dinner. Like Ming Tai said, my older sister is always happy to have more company.’ Ah Cheng smiled then focused his attention on the road.

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

Xunran was still wondering where Ah Cheng would take him until he stopped at driveway. His mouth went dry seeing a mansion. Xunran was about to question Ah Cheng, but he already stepped out to open the big iron gates.

Xunran bit his lip and stayed silent when Ah Cheng went back inside car then drove up to the curved driveway at the front of the mansion. He parked beside a red sport car.

‘Once in a while we have dinner here.’ Xunran startled. Ah Cheng had opened the passenger door for him.

It was a two floor big mansion, which made Xunran got reminded who Ah Cheng was. He followed Ah Cheng to front door.

In the front room, Ming Tai was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. A plate of sliced apples was on his lap. When he saw Ah Cheng and Xunran stepping inside, his face brightened like a kid who got his candy. He put aside the plate.

‘Oooooh Da Jie will be very happy.’ He clasped his hands.

‘Where is Da Jie?’ Ah Cheng asked.

‘She was having tea with Jiyun in sunroom. Eh, Xunran ge, come with me.’ Ming Tai grabbed Xunran’s hand, made Ah Cheng frowned to his little brother.

‘Ming Tai,’ Ah Cheng made a stern face. He knew Ming Tai was thinking something mischievous.

‘A sec, Ah Cheng ge. I want to surprise Da Jie.’ Ming Tai giggled while dragging Xunran to living room. Xunran throw a worried look to Ah Cheng.

‘It’s ok,’ Ah Cheng replied while following Ming Tai but he waited outside sunroom.

Two women were chatting happily when Ming Tai walked in with Xunran. The one seemed older wore an elegant styled hair with designer white long sleeves shirt and purple skirt. Beside her was a woman who looked younger with shoulder length hair and simple pastel blue dress.

‘Da Jie, Jiyun darling,’ the little brother cheerfully called. ‘Look who is coming.’

Ming Jing turned. ‘Ming Tai, is Ah Cheng – oh Ah Cheng, you have come. I thought you wouldn’t come, you didn’t answer my call. Ah Cheng, why are you hiding behind Ming Tai?’

Ming Tai giggled while Xunran was awkwardly standing behind him.

‘Jie, I think the gentleman over there isn’t Ming Cheng,‘ Jiyun smiled.

‘Eh?’ Ming Jing frowned to the man. She noticed his hairstyle was different with Ah Cheng’s usual hairstyle. And somehow the man had different vibe with her second younger brother.

Xunran was about to speak up when Ah Cheng stepped in to living room. ‘Jie, he’s my friend.’ Ming Jing blinked while Ming Tai was laughing harder. ‘You two, you sure like to play around with me despite your age.’ Ming Jing sighed and shook her head.

‘I’m sorry, Jie. I just can’t help,’ Ming Tai stiffed his laugh.

‘Hello. So you’re friend of Ah Cheng? I’m sorry with our young master attitude.’ Ming Jing approached Xunran with apologetic look. ‘Please have a seat.’ Meanwhile Jiyun deliberately dragged Ming Tai to the kitchen.

‘It’s fine, Miss. Thank you.’ Xunran smiled as he sat beside Ming Jing and Ah Cheng immediately knew Ming Jin had fallen into that cute smile too.

‘Jie, he’s Li Xunran. Li Xunran, this is Ming Jing, my older sister,’ Ah Cheng decided to properly introduce Xunran to Ming Jing.

Xunran greeted. ‘Miss Ming Jing, nice to meet you.’

Ming Jing shook Xunran’s hand with a gentle smile. ‘This kid never once introduce his friends to me I don’t know why.’ She threw an accusing look to Ah Cheng who only shrugged then poured tea for Xunran and refilled Ming Jing’s cup.

As Ah Cheng expected, Ming Jing asked various questions to Xunran, from how they met, his relationship status, to where Xunran worked. Xunran patiently answered the questions, it was like talking to his mother – the older sister was very fond of listening to stories. ‘Jie, I invite him over to have dinner together, not to be interviewed. You will make Xunran uncomfortable.’ Ah Cheng sighed after a dozen of questions.

‘That’s why you should invite your friend more often, Ah Cheng. I think it’s the first time ever you bring a friend.’ Ming Jing said then faced to Xunran.

‘I’m glad that you befriend Ah Cheng, Xunran,’ Ming Jin patted Xunran’s hand then rolled her eyes to Ah Cheng. ‘He always looked up to his older brother. Now I don’t really know what that kid up to.’

‘Jie… I’m fine now, you’re embarrassing me.’ Ah Cheng said.

‘Dinner’s ready,’ Ming Tai appeared and dramatically gestured with his hand, he wore a soft pastel green apron with ruffles; it might be Jiyun’s. Ming Jing scolded Ming Tai to stop playing around when a guest was around. The little brother replied with his signature pout and went back in. Ming Jing gestured Xunran and Ah Cheng to follow her to dining room.

‘Ah Xiang, this is Li Xunran, Ah Cheng’s friend,’ Ming Jing introduced a girl who was placing plates on table to Xunran. The girl bowed politely. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Xunran bowed back as reply.

‘And this is Jiyun, Ming Tai’s wife.’ Ming Jing introduced the girl with blue dress Xunran saw earlier. Xunran politely greeted her and shook her hand.

Xunran took a seat next to Ah Cheng. ‘Ah Cheng, next time you have a friend, you should introduce them to me.’ Ming Jing said to Ah Cheng. ‘Also, Ah Cheng have you seen the photos I sent to you? They are nice ladies from good family.’

Maybe it was the first time Xunran saw Ah Cheng face went a hint of red. ‘Jie, please stop sending me marriage applications.’

‘I do it for you, Ah Cheng. I’m worried about you,’ said Ming Jing with concerned face.

‘Let’s eat before the food cold.’ Ming Tai chirped in. ‘Jie, eat lots.’ He put a meat on his older sister’s rice.

‘Silly, it’s you that need to eat lots.’ Ming Jing gently tapped Ming Tai’s shoulder.

‘Ah Xiang is a good cook, you should try them all,’ Ah Cheng merely placed some food to Xunran’s plate. Xunran thanked Ah Cheng and he found out that Ming Tai winked to him.

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Xunran was viewing a painting in front room when Ah Cheng approached him. He turned to Ah Cheng. ‘It’s a beautiful painting.’

‘My brother called it ‘Home’.’ Ah Cheng merely smiled. ‘He wanted to have a home like in that painting one day after he retired.’

‘Home…’ Xunran muttered. It was painting of lone home beside a river with trees, somehow reminded him of current Ah Cheng’s home. He remembered that Ah Cheng made several sketches with same theme too.

‘Xunran, dear, here, bring this home,’ Ming Jing went it to front room while carrying few containers in her hands. ‘Enjoy it with your family.’

Xunran took them, smiling. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘Ah Cheng, drive your friend home safely, OK?’ She patted Ah Cheng’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about me, Ming Tai will drive me home.’

Ah Cheng nodded. ‘Good night, Da Jie.’ Back in his heart, it was painful that the Ming mansion was no longer a place they called as home. He glanced at the door behind his sister who was saying goodbye with Xunran. Sometimes he hoped his older brother would open the door, walking to the kitchen asking for tea like he always did when he worked at night.

Ming Jing turned and made a wan smile to Ah Cheng as she knew what he was thinking. ‘Ah Cheng…’

‘Good night.’ He smiled gently to his older sister.

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