#the next chapter will have mentions of drug and alc use

[corporatefrog]

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 24; blasted in roku city

✧.* featuring yn organizing a party with stan, kyle, and kenny : ̗̀➛ notes - this is just me projecting wanting to have all my friends and i living on the same apartment floor and having a roku city themed party tags - college au, superhero au, smau

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taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia  @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc@sophtophie@inkedintothepaper 

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction - chapter 8 Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! AU

directory/m.list

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words: ~3.8k

warnings: depictions of alc*hol abuse, mentions of death, mentions of drugs/drug use (?) idk yall, light angst

Your aunt was an interesting character. Kindeki Takumi, at the age of 27, decided to take over her late sister’s boutique shortly after she passed. The boutique was simple. It offered retail: high-quality clothes (from other manufacturers) and some complimentary tailoring services. 

After about a year, when Takumi got bored of repeating the same process of waking up, selling clothes, and occasionally tailoring them, she decided that it was time to expand the business. She rented out the place next door and started selling her own designs. Seeking to learn more about garment creation, she attended classes and fashion shows, inadvertently gaining relationships and knowledge in the luxury fashion industry. 

She’s visited almost every major city in the world to learn about their cultures, taking inspiration for her designs. This woman learned English, French, Italian, and Mandarin simply by visiting these countries to learn more about their individual fashions and therefore has friends around the world. These friends of hers only served to expand her business, as her fashion house grew alongside her popularity with others.

In only 19 years, she created a luxury fashion house worth almost 1 billion yen (~7M USD). Those in the industry call her both a creative and technical genius. The Kindeki brand as a whole is known for its efficient and beautiful designs. And it made sense– Kindeki Takumi centered her brand around who she was as a person. 

However, she wasn’t the only person who turned the brand into what it is today. Along with the inheritance of her sister’s boutique, she also found herself suddenly having to look over a three-year-old girl. 

Her sister’s husband was completely destroyed by his wife’s death. Takumi would go over to their house, only to see him drowning himself in vodka and his own tears, the house a complete mess. His three-year-old would be peacefully napping on the couch, fully unaware of her father breaking down next to her. When she woke up, her dad would cease his sobbing only to take care of the toddler, giving her weak smiles as his daughter kept asking where her mother went. 

After seeing the state that her brother-in-law was in, Takumi decided to help take care of the toddler so that he could take his time to properly mourn the love of his life. She recognized the new need for a mother figure in her niece’s life and tried her hardest to play the role so that her late sister wouldn’t have to worry in the world beyond. She wiped her tears away as she thought about it.

Kindeki Takumi brought the little girl to the boutique, a place the girl was already familiar with. These were the toughest days for Takumi, a woman completely new to parenting. The little girl ran around, playing with the clothes and messing up displays before Takumi was able to teach her to leave it be. She’d start crying and demanding to see her mother after Takumi tearily explained to her that her mom was gone . During these days, the young woman would hold her dear niece close as they both quietly wept in each other’s arms. 

However, things got easier as time passed.

By the time she turned six, the little girl was spending every weekend at the boutique, helping her aunt with the store– counting the till, taking inventory, and even setting up displays and mannequins. Around this point, Takumi started designing her own clothing– the process eased because her niece was able to mostly take care of herself. 

Sales were also easier. Sometimes, customers would be endeared to the smart little girl showing off clothes to them, telling them about the fabric blends and the trending styles for the new season. 

At the cashier, Takumi would be sketching her new designs. It was common for her to hear something along the lines of “I highee recommen this shirt. It is very cute wight now. Jennifuh Annison wore a dress just like dis on the carpet last week!” coming from her niece’s enthusiastic voice while the customer would giggle at her cuteness for a moment before agreeing with the little girl. Sometimes, the girl would want to try doing the sales portion in place of her aunt. She always looked up to her aunt, so she wanted to try it too. Somehow, it was a great sales tactic.

“Also, also! This design wight here will give the iwwusion of your waist looking smaller, if that’s what you like. Personawy, I think it’s da best we hab in our bootique right now! Da quality is unmatched!” The little girl’s voice was so cute, and her huge dedication to getting the sale was so adorable. People in the area talked about that one boutique with the six-year-old girl who’s amazing at sales . 

Takumi would teach the girl how to sew during these weekends, letting her see every single process of designing. After starting elementary school, she would come to the boutique after her classes with a notebook filled with the history of certain countries or different religions in bad handwriting. She’d cut out photos from tourist magazines and paste them all over her notebook, showing them to her aunt enthusiastically. 

She heard her aunt talking about “getting inspiration” from random places occasionally, so the girl wanted to give her aunt as much inspiration as possible. Frankly, though, the girl still didn’t really know what “inspiration” was. She just knew that it made her auntie happy, so she kept trying to give it to her.

Takumi’s first fashion show was dedicated to her niece, who showed her photos of certain regions in Morocco and their traditional clothing. This small presentation from niece to aunt was mostly filled with photos of Moroccan food, but it still encouraged Takumi to do some more research on Moroccan culture. The line ended up being highly influenced by traditional Moroccan culture and their ancient architecture from the Roman Empire. The accents of the pieces were all created in patterns that are typically on Moroccan pottery and plates. The dresses were tiered, showing the influence of the last-standing monarchial government in Northern Africa, and were designed in a way that showcased the highly migrative and colonizer-riddled history of the area. This was the line that caused Takumi’s brand to achieve notoriety, gaining investors and interest in the brand.

While the little girl’s initial interest was only in running the boutique (because she liked showing off her aunt’s designs to the customers), she later started to gain interest in creating designs of her own. While waiting for customers to come in, she’d be sketching in her notebook. Slowly, the girl was becoming more and more involved in the design of Kindeki’s pieces. In about a decade and a half, she’d be creating essentially half of the next fashion show. 

And this little girl is sitting in a café with her aunt, legs crossed as she waits for her drink to come out. 

The Marrochino

The Marrochino (pronounced mah-ro-kee-no) is typically served in a small glass and consists of a shot of espresso, chocolate syrup/sauce, cocoa powder, and milk froth. In Alba, Italy (the home of the Italian chocolate giant Ferrero), Nutella is used in place of the chocolate sauce. The name Marocchino, which is Italian for “Morroccan”, is derived from its color. Moroccan Leather was a type of light brown, high-quality leather commonly used in the 1930s.

While the drink is similar to the commonly-known Caffé Mocha, it does not have whipped cream and contains less milk, allowing you to fully taste the deeper flavors of the espresso along with the decadence of chocolate. Those who are fans of chocolate will love this caffeinated beverage. 

As the chocolate sauce is at the bottom, the Marrochino is served alongside a spoon, as it is essential to mix up the drink before enjoying. If you’d like something chocolaty with a caffeinated boost, the Marrochino is perfect for you!

This woman is the full definition–the essence– of the “rich and crazy aunt”, and you couldn’t wish for anything more. 

Today, you were wearing something a little more dressy than usual for your date with your aunt. Your stocking-covered legs were crossed, and a white linen napkin was placed on your lap. The café you were at was really fancy– it looked to be like some sort of upscale brunch place that doubled as a café. So, you wore a dark grey dress shirt (that was literally a dress) that was from your aunt’s brand. It had long sleeves that were cuffed at your wrists, and there was a cut-out heart detail, showing the bare skin on your sternum. This cut-out detail was framed by its massively exaggerated collar that added lots of drama to the whole look– it was a regular collar at the top, but the bottom of the collar was stretched out to frame your chest. 

You paired it with a black belt with eyelets and a very dramatic pair of black platform heels. The dress shirt alongside the accessories made you look classy, but also a little edgy. It was a great look on you. You felt confident walking through the streets today with your Masaki bag, watching as people gave you the “oh shit, it’s an attractive person but I can’t look too long or else it’s rude” look. 

Across from you was your aunt, who was still looking through the menu. She was always so indecisive, but she’d normally end up on the same dish anyway. When she sighed and put the menu down, you gave her a look. “Eggs benedict again?”

She nodded, defeatedly. 

The waiter came out to give you and your aunt your marocchinos and then asked for your order. “One Croque Madame and one Italian Eggs Benedict, please. Oh, and could you get me another one of these Marocchinos?” You glanced at your aunt to make sure it was the right order, and she nodded. 

When the Marocchino came out, it was much smaller than you expected. It looked like only one shot of espresso. Even though you were trying to take a break from caffeine today, it just feels wrong to have such a small amount of coffee…

Your aunt highly recommended this specific drink to you at this café. She said she had bought a scary amount of them in the past month. You watched as she picked up the small, ornate spoon with her well-manicured hands to stir up the layers of the drink in the small glass. 

Copying her, you took a sip of the drink at the same time she did. Pretty good. Lots of chocolate. 

“The espresso at the café where Bakugou-kun works is way better,” you said, taking another sip of the drink. “Still pretty good, though.”

Your aunt raised an eyebrow at you. She was wearing a white blazer that was draped around her shoulders over a black frilly mesh blouse (which was your design) and a pair of Kindeki sweatpants. She still looked extremely classy. “Hm, does his café serve marocchinos?” 

You thought about it for a moment, downing the rest of the drink. “I don’t think so. Maybe I should ask him to make one for me. To be honest, I haven’t tried many of his other drinks other than the americanos and such.”

The older woman across from you shook her head in disappointment. “Well, we’re going to be around his café a lot more, so you should go ahead and ask him. Maybe get some coffee from his place before opening the boutique.”

You hummed in agreement, sitting back on your chair. Your aunt was opening up a boutique right next to Bakugou’s café, and you were going to work there on some days to make some extra money. The area was one she was eyeing for quite a while. It wasn’t the busiest of places like her store in Shibuya or Ginza, but the sights of Mt. Fuji in Shizuoka were something your aunt wanted to be close by. It seems this time, her main inspiration is going to be Japanese attractions. 

She wasn’t opening this boutique for profit. It was so that she could have an excuse to spend more time in Shizuoka. It was a plus, especially since Masaki mostly operated from Shizuoka, and the collaboration between the two brands would last for quite a while. 

After the food came out, you and your aunt were discussing ideas and plans for the collaboration. You decided that tomorrow morning, you’d head over to his café for a cup. 

Bakugou’s eyes widened just a smidge when he saw you enter his café at the buttcrack of dawn. Bakugou was so angry yesterday, but he felt all of his morning anger melt away as soon as he saw your sleepy face. You were wearing a turtleneck under a massive Kindeki sweatshirt and sweatpants, and you looked like you were massively hungover. Either way, your bookbag was still strung across one of your shoulders. Your hair was looking like a bird’s nest that was just raided by a fox trying to eat bird eggs. How were you supposed to detangle that? But somehow, it made Bakugou’s cheeks burn . 

“Mornin’, Bakugou-kun. Can I get a large iced americano and a large peach lemonade?” You had your card out, ready to pay, but he didn’t even cast you a second glance as he wordlessly started making the drinks. You stood there, confused, with your card still in your hand. Your sleep-deprived mind couldn’t process this action. Three or four hours of sleep can’t give you enough brain functioning for you to calculate your next actions. 

So, you were frozen at the spot until he was finished making the drinks. He went back to the cashier to give you your drinks while you were still standing there, card in-hand. Bakugou stared at you for a moment and then blinked. You blinked back.

“J-Just take it,” he managed, taking a step away from you to make sure you didn’t hand your card to him. It seemed like he forgot about payment, and just started making you your drinks on autopilot. But to you, it seemed like he was giving you the drinks because he knew you.

You tilted your head in confusion. “But wait-” you stepped closer to the counter, raising your card out to him.

“No.” He said, pushing the drinks closer to you and then going to the back. 

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t have cash on you, and you didn’t know his Venmo or anything. You cursed yourself for being such a 21st-century girl. Why did you have to be so technologically advanced?! And why is he so stubborn?!

You’re going to bring cash next time. 

So you take your drinks and sit down at your favorite table, taking a huge swig of the Americano before getting straight to work, tossing your extremely heavy bookbag onto the seat next to you, and pulling out your laptop, aggressively typing in your password. You had a couple assignments to do today because you put all of them off for a week. They’re due tonight. It’s time to fucking grind.

That was the last thing you remembered before you jolted awake when you heard the “ding!” of the café door opening, notifying a customer coming in for their morning cup of coffee. Your head was on your keyboard. 

You slowly sat up, and you saw that you’d drooled a bit on your keyboard. You took a closer look at your laptop’s monitor and realized that you’d been sleeping on the “,” key the entire time. There were about forty pages of just commas repeated in Times New Roman font. “How long have I been asleep for?!” You thought, panicked. 

You looked around the café and saw Bakugou glancing at you after he handed the new customer their drink. He gave you a nod in acknowledgment, and your entire body froze.

“Fuck, I need to do my work,” you whispered to yourself, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. His gaze somehow tore you out of your daze. You drank the rest of your americano and quickly deleted the forty pages of commas before continuing your assignment. 

After a couple hours, you finally finished all of your assignments that were due for the day, and you sighed in relief. It’s time to get to designing. You pulled up the group chat for the brand collaboration and caught up with every single text left by the members of the chat to make sure you were on the right track for everything. 

Turns out, Masaru and your aunt were getting really obsessed with gothic French architecture and the whole dark academia aesthetic. You thought to yourself for a moment. “Hm, that’s basically me.” You looked down at your clothes and then shook the thought away. “Nah, right now, I’m more of a bum academia aesthetic… or druggie academia.”

You were a fan. You’ve been into that aesthetic recently, having Pinterest boards filled with “dark academia” photos. Actually, right now, the hella attractive guy sitting at the cashier is looking perfectly like the aesthetic. 

Bakugou’s wearing a white button-up underneath a dark brown v-neck sweater that looks suspiciously like your aunt’s brand with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his beautiful forearms. The beige slacks he wears are cuffed at the bottom, and he’s wearing a pair of dress shoes to go with the whole ensemble. Why does he always look so well-dressed? Fuck, you look like a homeless man in comparison. But you didn’t care much. He’s seen you in much worse states.

That reminded you that you should probably start looking presentable for the day. it’s around 10 am, so it’s time for you to start looking normal. Since you knew Bakugou at this point, you quickly asked him a favor to look over your stuff. After hearing him grumble out a “sure,” you rushed to your car to make sure he wouldn’t be watching your stuff for too long. 

You quickly changed into your outfit for the day– reusing the turtleneck from your current outfit but layering atop an oversized flannel and tucking it into a corduroy miniskirt from one of your aunt’s collections. You had on leggings underneath your sweatpants to keep yourself from freezing to death, so you just put the skirt over the leggings. You quickly pulled your hair into some semblance of a braid and aggressively slapped concealer onto your face. Then, the finishing touch– a pair of blue-light glasses for the “I read poetry while sipping on English tea and I’m better than you” look. 

You then ran back to the café. This all happened in less than six minutes. You timed it. You were way too sleepy in the mornings to get ready, and you were content with just being in your pajamas for the first portion of the day. You really wanted to be comfortable for the moments you were torturing yourself.

So, you go back into the café and quickly thank Bakugou for looking over your stuff. He was in the middle of drinking water, but as soon as you came in, he started choking. You opened up your Google Drive filled with mood boards and photos of gothic French buildings, grabbed your sketchbook from your bookbag, and plopped your laptop and sketchbook in front of Bakugou. “What do you think about these?”

He blinked. That all happened in such a short span of time that he was confused.

You looked at him expectantly before quickly apologizing. “Oh, crap. Will your boss be okay with this? Maybe I shouldn’t have thought we could work on it while you were worki-”

Bakugou furrowed his brows. “Boss?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ boss.”

“Wait, then who owns this café-” and then your jaw dropped. “You own this place!?”

He nodded at you, a crooked smirk starting to form on his lips. You thought he wasn’t the owner?

“That’s so cool! I had no clue– I just thought you were some rich kid who was forced to start working here because of your parents!” You said, incredulously, as your hand raised up to cover your mouth. You were so surprised.

He started cackling. “Pffft, how the hell else would I be able to make you so many free drinks?”

Your face started heating up. “I- I just thought you were paying for it or something…”

He looked to the side, still shaking a little bit from laughter. “Well, I technically still am… but that shit doesn’t matter. Lemme see.” 

You were across from him at the counter perpendicular to the cashier, making sure that you didn’t get in the way of any of his customers. He looked through your sketches and the inspiration for them and nodded in approval. “Wouldn’t it be better if ya made the silhouette like this?” he offered in a gravelly voice, grabbing his sketchbook from under the cashier to quickly draw it out for you.

Your eyes brightened. This man was going to be fun to work with. “That’s perfect!” You made your edits to the sketch and then started showing him the rest of your ideas.

Bakugou was pretty distracted, though. He kept looking at your lips while you were explaining the details to him, so he kept reminding himself to focus on the fucking topic at hand. He didn’t know you looked so attractive while sketching something. Fuck. 

After about an hour of talking to him about designs and you telling him about French architecture and its history and how it came to be, you pulled up a chair to the counter, and you two were lost in conversation before some more people came into the café. He left to get to the cashier for a moment, getting back to his work. In your peripherals, you saw a couple people looking at you strangely. Then, you realized.

It’s probably weird as fuck that you’re some rando sitting by the counter and talking to Bakugou like this. Does it make him look unprofessional? What if less people come to his café because of this? They must think he’s just talking to a friend in the middle of working! After all, you’re just sitting by the counter with a shitton of papers strewn about the place. Also, it feels kinda weird just watching him work while you’re a sitting duck.

Trapped in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Bakugou getting back to you by the counter. The two of you quickly got back to work, but you couldn’t shake the weird looks you got. It’s probably not a good idea to be working with him like this while he’s operating the café… but you decided to finish working with him for the day before you could do something about it.

So, the next day, you entered his café with a determined look. 

“G’ mornin’. An americano and peach lemonade?” He was standing, so he looked down at your dead-set eyes. He was already tapping your order into the register.

You cleared your throat. “Actually…”

He looked back up at you with an eyebrow raised in question.

You looked straight into his red eyes. “Are you hiring?”

directory/m.list

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