#we cafe workers are not your personal dishwashers

[six-eyed-samurai]

Not usually a hater but I'll make an exception for those people WHO ORDER A DRINK AND DON'T EVEN FINISH IT

(rages in I'm going to get scoliosis from bending down so long to wash dishes)

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Forget Me Nots- Epilogue

A wealthy young man falls overboard while vacationing with friends only to find himself with amnesia and a pretty young wife who seems determined to remind him what hard work and dedication really mean.

Warnings: Strong language, angry Min Yoongi inaccurately portrayed based upon the writer’s imagination,angst, eventual super fluff.

Pairing: Eventual Min Yoongi x reader

Word count: 3021

A/n: Well...this is the end my lovelies~ I am honestly so full of emotions right now I can’t even begin to sort through how I’m feeling lol. Sad because it’s over? Joyful because I’m happy with the ending. Excited to see everyone’s reactions. Yes to all of that~ I wanna thank @btsstan4life​ and @min-newt​ for lending themselves as characters to the story. To my new network @castlebangtan​ and the lovely bunch of angels that so graciously gave me the support I needed to push through the feels and finally get this out there. To my daughter for being the amazing sweetheart and always supporting my stories by asking me to read them to her at night. And to you, the person reading this right now? Thank you for the journey, thank you for the support and kind words. The likes and reblogs boost my confidence and allow me the motivation to push forward. To y/n and Yoongi, I know this was a tough journey, but the end is finally here. I wish you both happiness and joy and I hope you can find peace in the ending I’ve written for you. Thank you for allowing me to tell your story and...good bye~

<<Chapter 10

As the sound of the ambulance’s siren disappeared into the distance the woman found herself sitting on the floor. Back pressed into the cool wood of the front door her eyes stared listlessly into the distance, mind empty and yet so very full of the pain and devastation that was their last conversation.

“You let me fall in love with you!”

His final words before his collapse rang through the house, filling it with a weight that no amount of crying could have chased away.

Her two pups pressed in close to her, each seeking to give their owner some sort of comfort in the numb grief she found herself wrapped within. Champ pressed into her side, nose nudging her cheek occasionally as Kaia curled the entirety of her upper body on her lap. The woman’s fingers mindlessly combed through Kaia’s silky fur, head leaning into Champ’s shoulder as the first sob slipped free.

“Guys...I fucked up…” She hiccupped, tears finally spilling down her cheeks as she burried her face into Champ’s chest. The shepherd licked at her temple, a tiny whine escaping him as he sought to comfort his owner in the best way he could. 

She couldn’t understand where this grief was coming from. Him remembering his past should have come as a relief. Right?

She’d no longer have to worry about how to break the news to him, what to do about the strange man that’d come to live in her house for the past week. Never again have to think about the soft secret smiles he gave the dogs as he sat curled into the sofa, fingers tracing shapes in their fur as they watched the sun set out the window.

Not have to worry about the scent of sandalwood that seemed etched into his skin that would waft up every time he passed by her. Or the strange butterflies that danced in her belly when she’d wake up to the scent of breakfast and coffee each morning.

Her sobs grew louder, inconsolable as the anguish that tormented her heart grew in size, consuming her soul with her realization.

“Oh god...I fell in love with him.”

***

The sterile scent of hospital served as a solid reminder and wake up call as she made her way to the front desk in search of her husb...in search of Yoongi.

The nurse pointed her in the direction of his room and she swallowed harshly, fingers digging crescents into her palms as she hefted the bag of belongings she’d gathered to return to him.

Standing before the hospital room door she steeled herself, unsure of what to expect but knowing it was possible that she’d get turned away immediately. But this was something she had to do. At least that’s what she’d said to convince herself. She knew she didn’t stand a chance in earning or even begging for forgiveness. But she could only hope that she’d get the chance to say good bye.

“Miss you can’t be here. This is a private room.” A sharply dressed man approached her, dark sunglasses hiding the obvious gaze of what could only be a security guard.

“I umm...I was just returning his…”

“You should leave. Access to this room is forbidden.” His stern tone left no room for argument and she ducked her head in acknowledgement.

Dashing away she paused at the nurse’s station, making a quick and wavering request that the belongings be returned to the man she knew she’d never see again.

*** “Y/n, can I speak to you in my office please?”

She glanced up from her paperwork, flashing her boss a soft smile before shuffling the paperwork to the side and standing to follow him.

“Something the matter Troy?” She asked as she closed the office door behind her.

“Ah, nah. Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to let you know that the company responsible for the wrecked carpet cleaner paid to have the machine replaced. So you don’t have to worry it.”

She frowned, eyes wandering to the window overlooking the dock full of ships outside. “Did you ask them to or…”

“They actually reached out. When they returned the Veloce it was actually really clean so I wasn’t sure that we’d hear from them after outside of a review but ah…” He glanced down at a sticky note, squinting at his own handwriting before smiling up at her. “A Namjoon called, said he wanted to apologize to you for all the trouble and to thank you for everything you did to help.”

A mental image of smiling dimple filled cheeks flashed across her mind and she smiled sadly, nodding to Troy before leaving the office to return to work.

“I...guess it’s all over now huh?”

*** “So you’re telling me it took you six months to finally hire a new dishwasher?”

Rose grinned, digging into her burger as she nodded in reply to Devani’s question.

“Yeah, and the new kid is a hell of a worker too! Kind of cute. Right up your alley chicka.” She snorted at the blush rising up the girl’s cheeks. “It was damn near impossible to find a new hire after Yoon...ah... after the last guy quit the way he did.”

Rose’s panicked gaze darted to y/n, though the woman seemed lost in her own thoughts and wasn’t much paying attention to the conversation between her two best friends. Her dull gaze wandered their favorite coffee shop, listlessly wandering from face to face as if she was fruitlessly caught in a subconscious search for someone that wasn’t there.

“Hey...you with us y/n?” Devani chirped up, giving her a sad smile as the dazed woman’s gaze returned to their table.

“Hmm?” Her fork moved for the first time since the salad had been placed before her, though it just picked mindlessly at the leafy meal as her focus struggled to take in the concerned faces before her.

“You’re stuck again love.” Rose said quietly, lips turning down into a frown as she watched her heartbroken friend give her an empty smile.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” She quietly hummed, reaching forward to take a sip from her now lukewarm cup of coffee.

The friends sat in silence for a while, allowing the world to revolve and pass around them as they each sat in their own little worlds of quiet contemplation.

A notification dinged on Devani’s phone, causing the girl to perk up with a grin as she swiped it open and eagerly read the email she’d just received.

“Ah! Oh my god I got them!” She squealed, hugging the phone to her chest and bouncing in her seat with all of the energy of a puppy given its first ball.

“What? Dude chill.” Rose giggled, reaching out to calm her friend with a warm grip to her arm.

“The VIP tickets I entered that contest for last week!” Devani grinned, turning the phone screen to Rose to reveal its secrets. “They just sent me an email letting me know I won!”

“No way that’s great!” Y/n grinned, the festive atmosphere snapping her out of her funk in favor of celebrating her friend’s good fortune.

“How many did you get?” Rose asked, leaning back into her seat and tapping her fingers absentmindedly on the table top.

Devani flipped the phone back around, eyes darting to and fro as she scanned the email’s contents. “Hmm...3 tickets. No way that’s freaking perfect!” She looked up at the women excitedly, her eyes practically sparkling in the brightness of the cafe’s lights. “You guys will come with me right? It won’t be the same without you!”

Rose nodded eagerly, grin bright and on display until she turned to see y/n’s frown darkening the mood slightly.

“I don’t know guys… I don’t think I’d be up for it….”

“No way! We’re not letting you miss this! It’s been ages since we had a girl’s night out and we refuse to go without you.” Rose glanced over to Dev, glaring at her dejected look for a moment and then grinning in triumph as it turned instantly to a look of determination.

“Rose is right. All for one and one for all.” She shook her head at the older woman’s protests. “No we’re all going together or not at all.”

“But you worked so hard to get those tickets. You can’t just not go Devi!” she tried hard to protest, stammering out her opposition to the idea.

But the girls were unrelenting, insisting over and over until they’d worn the woman down into going.

The three giggled, making plans quickly and allowing the excitement to flow through them at the prospect of the concert awaiting them that coming weekend.

Perhaps this was just what she needed to pull her out of that cloud of funk after all.

***

“Hyung! We’re on in an hour. Have you got the new battery pack for your in-ear?” Jimin’s sweet voice cut through the brooding Yoongi’s chaotic thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

Nodding at Jimin’s words he stood from the hairstylist’s chair, brushing at the blue jeans and brightly colored shirt that was the stage outfit for their first song of the night. It hadn’t taken much for him to regain his memories, thoughts that’d remained locked away and dreams that at some point in the week he’d spent questioning his existence had disappeared all at once came flooding back in that one final argument.

And yet here he stood, returned to his life as an idol and thrust back into the spotlight like nothing had ever happened but unable to put a name to the emotion that’d sat heavy in his chest since the day he’d been released from the hospital only to realize he might never see that soft smiling face again.

“Yoongi-ssi, they’re letting the VIP’s back for a few minutes before they get sat. Did you want to go say hi before you go out?” His manager looked up from the tablet with their schedule, holding Yoongi’s gaze for a moment before nodding and tapping out a quick message.

“I’ll let them know you’re on the way.”

The room cleared out, leaving him alone with his thoughts as he continued to stare at the reflection judging him in the mirror.

He’d changed a bit since the incident. Long gone was the minty green hair he’d sported, replaced in favor of a silvery grey number that was slowly growing on him. He’d gained back some of the weight he’d lost when the stress had been eating at him from an upcoming album release that’d gone far better than he’d expected. All in all he felt better, healthier, content with his standing in life where before he’d just felt frustration and rage against the things he couldn’t change. And yet something still felt like it was missing. A certain emptiness in his soul that seemed like it was waiting to be filled. With what he just couldn’t be sure.

Turning away from the mirror and dismissing the thoughts he left the room, entering the bustle of the corridors post concert and making his way to the meeting room his manager had set aside for the VIPs to meet with him and his band mates.

The room was filled with sound, a cacophony of cheer and joy. Fans meeting their idols and idols enamored with the tales and thanks that came with meeting their supporters.

Namjoon walked over to him, grin splitting his face from ear to ear as he clapped Yoongi on the shoulder.

“Don’t look so glum hyung. There’s someone here waiting for you. I think she’s got some things she’s been waiting to say to you.”

The cryptic words left Yoongi feeling confused, and somehow apprehensive as he walked deeper into the room. A few young women stopped him, crowding in to give him praise over his latest solo song as young men hung back with shy grins echoing the joy the far bolder sex seemed so eager and willing to share with him.

His idol smile set in place, a kind and soft affair that always seemed to either placate his fans or rile them up depending on the context. His manager handed him a silver sharpie, giving the fans the go ahead to hand him their albums and shirts to be signed with all the flourish of a practiced celebrity. Yoongi made quick work of them, assuring the chittering ARMY that he appreciated their support and loved them wholeheartedly.

Eventually those around him moved on, spotting one or another of the members that’d chosen to enter the room at that time. Attention drifted away from him, giving him a moment of respite that he capitalized on by moving to the refreshment table in search of a water bottle to quench his sudden thirst.

As he reached for one of the label free bottles a tiny hand darted out, touching the bottle just as his own wrapped around the dainty wrist. He froze, a chill of fear and excitement rushing through his veins at the sight.

He knew that hand, those work worn fingers that trembled beneath his grip. His eyes trailed up the sun kissed skin of her arm, eyes meeting her own fear filled ones as his grip tightened.

“Yoongi…” She gasped, eyes filled with a number of emotions and the growing sparkling of tears.

As they held each others gazes, unbeknownst to them the managers began clearing the room on Namjoon’s orders, emptying it for the two to have a private moment to themselves. Y/n friends watched, grins spreading wide as Namjoon led them to the door.

“Finally!” The trio whispered in unison, sharing giggles and chatting away as the door was closed behind them.

“You came.”

“You’re here.”

They spoke together, each refusing to acknowledge the heat rising to their cheeks as Yoongi finally released her wrist and cleared his throat to fill the following awkward silence.

“I um… I didn’t realize that this was your concert.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, shuffling her feet as she focused her eyes on a scuff mark on the floor in front of him.

“When I saw Namjoon and the others I well...I tried to leave but they wouldn’t let me…”

Yoongi watched her, eyes taking in her anxious form as he listened to her ramble on.

“Why would you leave?” He asked.

Her gaze snapped to him, eyes wide with fear as she fumbled for her next words.

“I, well I mean… I didn’t think you’d want to see me. Especially after I...after everything.”

“After you lied to me?” She nodded at his words and opened her mouth to reply but he refused, continuing on as he began listing off what was on his mind.

“After you took care of me? Giving me food and shelter and comfort when the absolutely terrifying moment of losing my memory to an assault happened? Allowing me to live in a fantasy that involved giving me more care and love than anyone ever has in my entire life?”

He stepped forward, crowding her with his presence as he stared down at her with all of the heat and passion that had been building within him over the past few months since he’d been away from her.

“You gave me the break I needed y/n. A peaceful existence that I never thought I could have in this messed up stressful life that is the idol world.” He reached out, hands coming up to caress her trembling arms as he moved impossibly closer.

“Do you have any idea how often I’ve thought about you since I left? How much I regret what I said? How much I hate myself for hurting you the way I did after everything you did for me?”

She inhaled sharply, the scent of sandalwood and male musk that was so uniquely his flooding her senses and filling her with an impossible hope that she hadn’t thought possible.

“I just...I lied to you Yoongi. How could you...how could you ever forgive me?” She choked on the words, sobs spilling forth as she buried her face in his chest.

His heart broke, seeing first hand the impact his callous words had had on the sweetest person he’d ever met in his life.

“Forgive you? If anything I’m the one that should be begging your forgiveness.” He wrapped his arms around her, clinging tightly to her as he buried his face in the warmth of her hair and inhaled deeply.

“I love you y/n. Honestly and truly. When I thought I’d never see you again it hurt. I couldn’t breath from the thought of losing you, of never seeing that sweet smiling face. Of coming home to see those goofy dogs of yours greeting me every day and knowing that I had finally...finally come home.” He kissed the top of her head before stepping back and crouching slightly to gaze into her tear streaked face.

“Could you ever forgive me angel? Please, I’m begging you. Let’s start over huh? Do this right.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The look of pure remorse and adoration that he was giving her was all she could ever ask for.

“Of course Yoongi.” She nodded emphatically, launching herself into his arms once more. “Of course I can forgive you. I...I love you too Yoongi.”

Their lips met, soft and desperate and perhaps a tiny bit awkward as teeth clashed and tongues fought to find their rhythm. But slowly they calmed, finding a balance in the rush of love that flowed through them as they inhaled each other. Breaking apart they grinned at each other, one lost and finally found and the other saved and saved again as they met once more in a passionate kiss that filled each of them with a sense that yes, they could finally be happy in each other’s arms.

As her tiny forget me not earrings flashed in the light of the waiting room they knew they were finally home.

[hookedontaronfics]

Last Call - Part 2

Rating: Mature/Explicit Pairing: Taron x Reader Warnings: Cursing, Plenty of smut [Oral, Unprotected Sex] Find the first part HERE. A/N: Multiple readers requested a second part to my one-shot Last Call, so here it is! I truly hope you enjoy it! x

It hadn’t been a mistake, but you sure as hell regretted it. He hadn’t exactly been your first one-night stand, but the problem remained; you’d always been able to walk away before without much thought. Sleeping with Taron had been an entirely different experience. The problem, of course, was that you now couldn’t get him off your mind.

His charming smile was everywhere you looked, reflecting back to you in car windows as you passed them by on I-5, in the storefront windows as you hurried toward the Paramount, in every cute brown-haired, bright-eyed boy who tried to catch your eye. None of them were Taron, of course; you knew where he was at that very minute, still at the WaMu Convention Center, making his fans happy. You needed desperately hard to figure out a way to not miss him; that he’d gotten under your skin felt both dangerous and dizzying. You couldn’t, wouldn’t be seeing him again, so getting a grip on this little fascination of yours was of utmost importance.

You once again nodded your hellos to your hotel co-workers before taking your place at the bar. Your boss was thankfully not working tonight; you were grateful you’d be working with Dave because he’d not only keep things light-hearted and fun but he was also very gay - no temptations there. Still, since no one was at the bar at the moment, you pulled out your phone and started scrolling through the Taron Twitter feed. Most of what you saw there you regretted seeing; why anyone in their right minds would tweet some of that stuff was beyond you, but there was also a large cadre of respectful fans who had made it their mission to spread Taron’s merits far and wide. 

You were lost in the myriad of pictures when someone tapped you lightly on the shoulder; you nearly jumped out of your skin and banged your shin against the dishwasher. “Owww!” you groaned, rubbing it as you turned to greet your very tan, blonde-tipped co-worker. Dave could have been a California surfer for all his looks, but here he was in Seattle making drinks for the elites. He always said he stuck around because Seattle actually celebrated the LGBTQ lifestyle but personally, you figured he stuck around for his perpetually on again-off again relationship with Joe, the next-door cafe barista.

“Who’s that fine piece?” he asked, having looked over your shoulder at your phone as you’d been scrolling.

“He’s an actor,” you said a bit dismissively, but Dave just kept going on.

“Strong jawline, kind eyes, adorable smile, broad chest,” Dave said, before snapping his fingers. “Mmm, he’s that Kingsman kid, isn’t he? All grown up and ready to -”

“Dave!” you cut in. “Jesus. I get it, he’s hot as hell,” you laughed, your cheeks turning pink against your will.

“Noooo,” Dave said, his eyes going wide. “You slept with him?” he squealed, clapping his hands together.

“Oh my god, we’re not having this conversation right now,” you groaned. “How’d you know?”

“You have a tell, sweetheart, everyone does, it’s totally fine. We’ve only worked together for five years,” he smirked as you covered your face with your hands. “So how’d that happen?” he asked, wanting you to dish on the details. And normally you would, but something about this felt different, so you just mumbled something about helping an overly friendly drunk person up to his room and, well, straight into bed. 

Well, technically against the couch, but who was keeping score? You blushed again at the thought of last night, the sounds he’d made, the way he’d felt inside you- … you had to stop thinking that way or you were going to have a very uncomfortable shift being horny half the night.

“Anyways, Dave, he was drunk, he probably didn’t even remember it, and I’ll never see him again, so…” you trailed off as he looked at you sympathetically.

“Oh, honey, you liked this one, didn’t you?” he asked, and you nodded. There was no point in lying - it was probably written all over your face.

“Yes. No. I don’t know, Dave. He stood up to our shitty boss for me and was kind and thoughtful and he had absolutely no need to be any of those things to me,” you said, getting a far-off look in your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter!” you insisted again. “Let’s just get this work day over with,” you said, needing to focus on anything other than Taron.

Sundays always seemed to bring an interesting mix of clients, and the evenings were usually more laid-back too, so you let yourself ease into the flow of it, and truly enjoyed working with Dave, especially as he rattled on about his weekly sexploits, as he called them; there really was nothing TMI with Dave, but you didn’t mind. Your secrets were always safe with him, and he would always have your back.

“Oh, honey, don’t look now, but there is an absolute dreamboat at 9 o’clock,” Dave whispered in your ear as you were polishing water spots off a clean glass. Of course you were going to look, so you grabbed a rag and moved to that part of the counter, trying to look like you were inspecting a stain as you raised your gaze up - and nearly choked on your own spit when you saw Taron standing in the bar’s doorway, so obviously looking for you. You gave Dave a look and he gestured to you to “deal with it” before going to check up on your clients for you.

“Holy shit,” you said as Taron spotted you and started walking over, the cutest damn smile growing on his face. For just one moment you allowed yourself to get lost in that smile, the way it made his eyes scrunch up. He was dressed simply in black jeans and a black tee, the shirt sleeves tight around his biceps and highlighting them just so perfectly. Oh, he could hold you down with those muscles, you thought, before cringing slightly at that. Thinking those things would only get you hot and bothered with no way to remedy the situation.

“What are you doing here?” you asked when Taron finally got to the bar. He looked slightly confused at your cold reception; it wasn’t your proudest moment.

“You left me last night,” he said, not even a question, and you felt his gaze on you as you dropped yours down to the floor. “I woke up alone and I thought I could deal with that. But the thing is, I couldn’t stop thinking about you at all. You were on my mind all day. I took hundreds of pictures with other girls, but y/n, they weren’t you. I needed to see you again.”

“Well, here I am,” you said, holding out your arms before letting them drop to your side. “I don’t know what you want from me. You’re going back to London, I live here. This isn’t a romance,” you said quietly.

“Romance doesn’t have to last a lifetime. It can be just for a single day,” he replied. You looked up at him leaning against the bar, his gaze so earnest and vulnerable it took your breath away. “Why don’t you say we give it a chance?”

“I’m kinda at work…” you trailed off as Dave swung by you.

“No you’re not. It’s a slow night and I’ve got your tables. I’ll even hold your tips for you,” he said with a wink. “So go on,” he grinned, fairly pushing you out from behind the bar. “Go have the night of your life!” Everyone really should have a Dave in their life, you thought as you found yourself walking out of the bar with Taron in a complete change of events. You noticed vaguely that he was toting his suitcase with him; he must have already checked out of his hotel room. Just then his phone started ringing and he looked at it, wincing slightly before silencing it and pocketing it again.

“What was that?” you asked him, a bit suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he said quickly but you wouldn’t let it go. “I missed my flight. My agent is livid,” he said but with a grin. “He’ll deal and I’ll book another flight,” he added with a nonchalant shrug. Of course booking another flight was no big deal to him, considering where he’d been put up last night, you thought. Still, despite being obviously loaded, he remained humble and unassuming, and you really liked that he didn’t flaunt his status, even if he was wearing a watch that probably cost more than your month’s rent.

“So where are we going, then?” you laughed as you both stood there on the sidewalk outside the hotel.

“I kind of didn’t already have a plan. I figured I’d just have to wait for you at the bar half the night, which I mean, you know I would have done for you,” he grinned. “Having time with you sooner is a pleasant surprise.”

“Well,” you said, running your fingers through your hair. “We can just grab a bite to eat,” you said, smiling at him.

“Perfect. And then after that, I’ll take you all the way up there,” he said cutely, pointing to the top of the Space Needle. A part of you wanted to tell him it was just a really expensive and over-glorified elevator ride, but his excitement over it was infectious and you weren’t about to dash his hopes.

You both quickly walked back to your car; you got to drive since Taron had just been chauffeured around Seattle and didn’t have a rental of his own. You kept having to remind yourself that he wasn’t even on your level.

“Pardon the mess,” you said as you quickly cleared the front passenger seat of its accumulation of empty water bottles and discarded receipts. He didn’t seem to care about the state of your car as you dug around the back for an extra shirt you knew you had stashed amongst the various bags and boxes of random stuff. You clambered into the backseat and tried your best to hide from passersby. 

“Close your eyes,” you giggled to Taron as you shucked off your work vest and button-down, even though he’d technically already seen you in a far more undressed state. You exchanged those for a light blue frilly blouse, let down your hair from its clip and touched up your makeup quickly, all in about five minutes’ space, before climbing over the middle console into the front seat. You’d had plenty of practice with quick changes in your car.

“Can I open them now?” Taron giggled lightly, his eyes still actually squeezed shut, and you laughed at that. You had to appreciate his sense of chivalry, that was for sure.

“Of course,” you grinned at him as he looked over at you, his eyes roaming over your body as he looked clearly impressed at your transformation.

“Like what you see?” you asked a bit cheekily.

“Very much so,” he smirked back, sending a thrill through you. You clamped your legs together, fully aware of how much skin your skirt showed off as he licked his lips slightly. But you both kept your hands to yourselves or you wouldn’t be making it to dinner at all.

You both pulled up Google on your phones and tried to decide on a place; finally, you suggested a restaurant called The Walrus and The Carpenter that you had always wanted to try. It offered the right mix of fresh seafood and American tapas, as well as specialty cocktails, and once Taron agreed it sounded like a good choice, you made the drive uptown. You were able to snag a table with only a little wait time, and found the food to be even better than you had imagined. The drinks were enjoyable and the company even more so, and soon you had both filled yourselves to the brim with fresh oysters, small plates of peppers, beets, kohlrabi and cheese, and finished it all off with marionberry cake.

Taron paid the tab without a second thought, and soon you both were off to the Space Needle. You’d only been up once before; the views really were pretty, and the few clouds hugging the horizon as the sun was close to setting would probably set off a spectacular view. “What are you thinking?” Taron’s voice broke through your thoughts; you hadn’t even realized that you’d been smiling a bit dreamily while you drove.

“How this has been one of the most pleasant evenings I’ve ever had,” you said honestly, looking over at him briefly, his lovely green eyes focused on you.

“It’s been much the same for me,” Taron grinned, reaching over and taking one of your hands in his. You couldn’t help it; you squealed a little bit inside. You knew that this couldn’t last but you told yourself there was no harm in living the dream for today.

You parked and Taron once again paid, even though you had offered to cover your ticket. You took the ride up, Taron keeping his hand at the small of your back in a sweet manner. No one else in the elevator seemed to pay you any mind. Once you arrived at the top, the views did not disappoint. You both spent some time just gawking at the sunset, the water, the city stretched out below, taking cute pictures together and just having fun. At one point he had his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on your shoulder, his warm body pressed against you, and you couldn’t stop the racy thoughts rolling through your mind.

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Taron cleared his throat and asked “Shall we go then?”

“Sure,” you said a bit breathlessly. You could only imagine where this night was going to end up. Once you were safely seated back in your car, Taron pulled you in close to him.

“Been waiting to do this all damn day,” he whispered before pulling your mouth to his. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling as he kissed you, soft and slow and sweetly at first. But as you returned his kisses, they deepened, becoming needier, hungrier. One of his hands wrapped around behind your head as the other ran along your bare thigh, sliding up under the hemline of your skirt. You moaned slightly and gave his fingers access to your core, already growing wet in anticipation of his touch.

But then he pulled away, both of you panting, leaving you hot and definitely bothered, but you knew you were still parked in a very public space and getting arrested for indecency wasn’t high on your list of life accomplishments.

“Should we go book a hotel room somewhere?” Taron asked, fidgeting slightly and you were all too aware of the tent in his pants.

“No, I have a better idea,” you grinned, putting the car in gear and pulling out as quickly, but safely, as possible. He’d left his hand on your thigh, but didn’t make a move to distract you any further. Seattle traffic could get scary at times, and you did your best to take the backways you knew to avoid the worst of it, grateful when you finally pulled into the lot of your red brick apartment building on Rainier Avenue.

Taron raised an eyebrow at you once you were parked. “No one has to know a thing here,” you grinned back at him as he fairly attacked you with kisses again, peppering your face with them until you shrieked with laughter at it.

“You are bloody brilliant,” he grinned at you as you both got out of the car. You told him to haul his suitcase up because you had a feeling he wouldn’t be sneaking out at night the way you had left him in the hotel. You led him up to your second-floor apartment, mentally walking through it and hoping there wasn’t anything too embarrassing left out, but despite how you treated your car, your apartment was usually in pretty orderly shape.

“Well this is cute,” he grinned as you let yourselves inside and he looked about him. “It reflects you,” he grinned, pulling your hips into his and making you gasp slightly. “Now… Where were we?” he asked, his voice a low murmur that went straight to your groin. He crashed his lips against yours, no longer worried about seeming needy, and you could feel his erection growing even more, pressing against your leg as he trailed his kisses across your jawline and down your neck, finding a spot that made you weak in the knees and nipping your skin with his teeth.

“Taron,” you whined slightly, but he seemed absolutely determined to take his slow time with you, to make you feel every bit of what he could do to you. You could only shiver in anticipation as his fingers trailed along your waist. He gripped your shirt and slowly pulled it off you, and you were grateful you’d chosen a cute lacy black bra over the boring nude one that morning. His eyes grew dark as he took in the sight, his fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts in the bra.

“I didn’t get to appreciate this last night,” he smirked at you, making your breath catch in your throat a bit as he dropped those heated kisses down to your chest, leaving your nerves on fire wherever his lips traveled over your skin. He reached around you and unhooked your bra, letting it drop to the floor before taking one of your pert nipples in his mouth, rolling his tongue over it and making you moan loudly. He pinched the other one gently with his fingers, causing you just enough pain to be pleasurable as he sucked at your breast greedily before moving down your stomach, nipping and sucking spots on your skin.

You never wanted him to stop, and voiced your displeasure when he pulled away for a moment. “Patience,” he smirked, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward your bedroom, but then must have changed his mind because he tugged you toward the bathroom instead.

“Only one place for a dirty girl like you,” he spoke, as you both stepped into the small cramped space. He wrestled with the tub handle, making you laugh as it totally broke the mood.

“It’s tricky,” you giggled, turning the water on to warm up and stepping out of your skirt, standing there in only your panties as Taron rid himself of his shirt and pants pretty quickly too. He pulled you in for more kisses again, before noticing the dark bruises along your hips from the night before.

“Oh God, I did that to you?” he said, brushing his fingers over your hips so delicately it nearly tickled.

“It doesn’t hurt, and don’t you dare apologize for giving me the best night of my life,” you said firmly, as another one of those breathtaking smiles lit up his face.

“Best night of your life, eh?” he asked. “I think I can do better,” he said gruffly, and you moaned again at the thought as you stood there and admired his physique. He was built, but not overly so, and it gave him a sort of everyman quality that could put anyone at ease.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you breathed, and your comment seemed to have caught him slightly off-guard. He tried to bluff his way out of the compliment but you put your hand on his chest and shook your head. “I can’t believe you don’t see it, but you are. Let me help you feel it, at least,” you whispered as you ran your hand over his still-clothed bulge. The groan that rumbled in his chest was enough to set you aflame. You pulled his boxer-briefs down and sat back on the edge of the tub, running your fingers along the shaft of his cock, appreciating what was right in front of you as your mouth salivated for him.

You pulled him close so he was standing between your outstretched legs and leaned in, placing some teasing kisses along his hip bones and down the trail of hair before finally placing a kiss on the tip of his engorged cock. “Holy fuck,” he hissed, his hands tangling in your hair as you licked the vein on the underside. He tried to buck into your mouth but you held him back, smirking at the power you had over him in that moment. There was nothing sexier than seeing a man like this, head thrown back and in the throes of the pleasure you were giving him.

Finally you gave him what he wanted, taking his cock in your mouth, sucking hard as you moved, your fingers digging into his butt cheeks as you let him thrust into your mouth, trying to avoid gagging around him as he sought his high. You could tell he was close when his groans gave way to grunts and you let him slip out of your mouth with a pop, earning you a slight yank of your hair that he still had a hold of and making your eyes water slightly.

“I want you to cum inside me,” you said, your panties thoroughly soaked by this point. You needed him, and you needed him now.

“I like a woman who knows what she wants,” Taron said, still a bit breathless as you stood up and he helped you out of your panties. You stepped into the tub and pulled the diverter valve for the shower, feeling the hot water against your skin as Taron followed you in and pushed you against the wall, biting your lip slightly as his hips pressed against yours. You were all too happy to lift a leg around his waist as he grabbed his cock and stroked it a few times before pressing into you. You’d nearly forgotten how full he made you feel, and you had to hold onto him to keep from sliding down. He had his hands flat against the wall to steady you both as he slowly started to pull out and push back in, gazing at you fully the entire time. It was probably the single most intimate sex you’d ever shared with anyone.

He couldn’t resist kissing you again, swallowing your moans and adding his own as beads of water glistened on his skin. You held onto him tightly, fully overwhelmed as he picked up his rhythm; the angle meant he was hitting you in the most delicious place. You could feel the edges of your orgasm drawing together already as Taron fairly started to pound into you, losing his composure as he barreled quickly toward his climax, desperate for it now. Suddenly and all at once powerfully, your orgasm tore through you, the waves of pleasure making you forget time and place as you screamed Taron’s name out loud. He was barely ten seconds behind you, grunting in your ear as he spilled into you, both of you overwhelmed by the feeling of it as he held you there for a few moments, both of you trying to come down together.

When he was sure you could stand on your own he finally pulled away, spent and totally exhausted but also really, stupidly happy. You would never get tired of seeing that dopey grin on his face. Neither of you said much as you slowly got yourselves clean before the hot water ran out. You had taken a few moments to run the soapy loofah over his chest, wanting to stretch out this time as long as you possibly could before it would all be over.

Eventually you both stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in towels and having to leave the bathroom as the amount of steam that had built up in there was making it hard to breathe. You both dried off and got dressed in pajamas, and Taron pulled you cutely onto your bed with him, having to displace several stuffed animals to fit, which made him chuckle. You laid side-by-side, nearly forehead to forehead with each other, just gazing at each other, still in that post-sex glow. He reached over and caressed your cheek sweetly. You could have stayed like that forever with him.

“Come with me to London,” he said softly, and it took you a moment to process what he had said.

“What?” you asked, a bit in disbelief.

“You don’t seem happy here,” he said, and he was right about that. “Quit your job. Leave your shitty boss behind. You could find work anywhere in London,” he fairly pleaded.

“Taron, I- … That’s not even realistic,” you replied, feeling your heart beginning to race. “I have bills to pay, and just, things I need to take care of here.”

“I could help you with the bills, and I’d be patient. But we could make it happen,” he said in such a vulnerable way that it hurt your heart a bit to deny him again.

“I couldn’t ever ask you to do that,” you shook your head.

“Then call it a loan, if you must. You could pay me rent to stay in my flat with me, for all I cared. I just want you with me. Nothing is impossible. Just imagine it, just try, you and me in London.”

“You are so sweet, Taron, but I hardly know you,” you said, brushing his still-damp hair back. He looked a bit crestfallen until you added, “But maybe we could date for a little bit first, do the long-distance thing.”

“And then you’d consider it?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure, babe, I’d consider it,” you said as he hugged you close and buried his face against your chest. You smiled at that and let him hold onto you, feeling emotions you weren’t used to feeling. It made you both anxious and elated as the night enveloped you both. As you started sliding headlong toward sleep, you wondered how this green-eyed stranger had managed to get so far under your defenses. And the real truth of it was that your last call had suddenly made you hope for a forever.

Keep reading! A third part has been added HERE.

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Four

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be linked soon!)

Word Count: 941

Chapter Warnings: Food, child social workers, banter, terrible puns

Virgil whistled as he stacked plates into the dishwasher in the kitchen. The lunch rush had just finished, and the resulting quiet in the cafe gave him a chance to tidy up while Patton prepared more food to restock the displays. 

It was a pleasant time of day, when they didn’t have to rush around, tending to customers and juggling dishes. Virgil enjoyed the calm. He was able to relax a little and just breathe in the atmosphere he and Patton had so carefully cultivated over the years; Warm. Casual. Cozy. He wandered back out to the dining area, slinging a cloth over his shoulder and gazing across the room.

The cafe was his favourite place in the world. He remembered back when they were first putting it together, finding bookshelves at thrift stores and awkwardly squeezing them up the stairs and arranging and rearranging them to find that perfect aesthetic. They always used to claim that once the cafe got busier and they had a bigger budget, they’d replace the bookshelves and armchairs. They’d buy new furniture that matched, that didn’t groan under its own weight, with bright, new, fresh paint that didn’t have cracks running along the corners like tiny spiderwebs.

Of course, looking around now at the mismatched shelves and patched-up sofas, he knew they wouldn’t change it for the world. 

A creak from the staircase caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see a rather lanky, quite familiar man appear at the top. The man made his way over to his usual table, just across from the counter, and settled down into a chair.

Virgil meandered over to him, pausing to wipe off the tables along his path. The man rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Gee, take your time, why don’t you?”

Virgil grinned. “Yeah, yeah.” He dragged out the other chair, dropping down into it. “Where’ve you been, anyway? We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I was out of town. One of the kids I work with ran away from home, and the whole thing just turned into a disaster. They ended up moving in with a family member, though, so it’s all sorted out now. Meaning I,” The man paused to let out a deep, contented sigh. “I can relax.”

“Is that Logan I hear out there?” Patton popped his head out of the kitchen, brightening as he spotted the pair seated nearby. “Ah! I’ll be over in a minute, you two just hang tight!”

Virgil chuckled. “No problem, love, don’t rush!” He called back. 

Logan smiled. “It’s good to be back home. My sister was looking after my dog, and apparently he’s been driving her husband crazy, and she hasn’t stopped complaining about how I ‘owe her big time’.”

“Hah. Lola, I assume?” Virgil guessed, propping his chin up in his hand.

“Well, neither Emily or Cora were up for dogsitting- Emily having the baby and all, and Cora being the neat freak she is-”

“It still amazes me that there exists a person more of a neat freak than you.”

“Shut up. Anyway, yes, Lola.” Logan drummed his fingers on the table. “Could you get me a latte?”

“Sure thing, dude.” Virgil hopped to his feet, making his way behind the counter to the coffee maker.

The rumbling of the machine and the stereo system were the only sounds in the cafe for a few minutes as Logan immediately became engrossed with his book, and Virgil stifled a chuckle.

Patton broke the quiet by practically skipping out of the kitchen with a plate of fresh-baked cookies, humming a cheerful tune as he made a beeline for Logan’s table. The sweet smell of fruit wafted past, and Virgil shook his head fondly. It would be a strange day if Logan ever started off his afternoon with anything other than thumbprint cookies. 

Sure enough, the nerd perked up as Patton approached with the cookies and set the plate down on the table. “Thank you, Patton,” He said quickly, then snatched a cookie and crammed it into his mouth.

Virgil snorted as he brought over Logan’s coffee. “You gonna breathe between those or what?” He asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, accepting the coffee and taking a long sip before speaking. “It’s hardly my fault your husband is such an excellent baker.”

Patton giggled. “Aw, shucks! Thank you, Lo! That’s pretty sweet of you to say!”

Logan groaned at the pun, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Virgil didn’t make any attempt to smother the devilish grin that spread across his face in response his pain. “You have to be used to these by now, dude,” He teased. “And, I mean, if you’re not, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”

“Not you, too...!” Logan complained, hiding his face behind his book, as if the pages would protect him from the absurd jokes.

Patton giggled, reaching across the table to pat Logan’s shoulder. “There, there, Logan. I promise no more cookie puns for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, thank Erikson.” Logan muttered.

Virgil rolled his eyes as he picked up the cleaning cloth again. “Nerd.”

“Emo,” Logan retorted.

“You’re just jealous you couldn’t pull off this eyeliner.” Virgil poked his tongue out and walked away, wiping down another table with his back to them. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure muffin else gets under your skin today!” He heard Patton announce cheerfully.

Logan’s enraged whisper-scream was more than enough to make Virgil burst out laughing again. Yup, life was good running a cafe, especially with regulars who were actually human.

[readyourimgaines]

Chapter Seven: A Whole New Side

Here’s the seventh Chapter I promised the Anon that made my week. @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood @board-certifiedbastard @iamnotbrianmay

“So what’s wrong?” Grantaire asked, sitting on the counter of Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s apartment. 

“Okay. So, Ferre doesn’t get home from work until around six and I need someone to talk to Enj. Jehan is out of town so they’re not in the question, he won’t tell me anything, and you’re the only other person aside from Jehan and Ferre that he actually talks to.” Courf put down his coffee mug.  

“What makes you think there’s something wrong?”

“He hasn’t spoken today and he won’t come out of his room. I tried to argue that aliens were real- nothing. It wasn’t until I started talking about the US government and he didn’t respond that I realized something was really wrong.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Grantaire hopped off the counter and made it to the younger blond’s room. He knocked on the door and it swung open. He was greeted with the balmy scent of pine needles and muffled music coming from Enj’s phone.

“What’s up?” Enjolras asked, folding clothes and dropping them into a pile on his bed. 

“I came to ask you the same thing. Ferre and Courf seem worried about you. I got a text from Ferre saying you seemed down and Courf doesn’t really know what’s wrong. He’s one of the few blessed children of the group that doesn’t have depression or anxiety.” 

“They don’t need to be worried. I’m totally fine.” Enjolras shook out his hair from the loose bun it was in, flipping the blond strands back to retie them.

“Is that why you’re refolding all your clothes and working up a sweat? If you wanted a workout we could have for a run or filled water balloons with watercolours and thrown darts at them. You wanted to do that, remember?” 

“I’m not refolding. I’m unpacking. I never unpacked all my stuff so I’m doing it now.” Enjolras closed the top drawer of his dresser, bending down to open what appeared to be his T-shirt drawer. 

Grantaire took a seat on Enj’s bed and studied the blond. “Procrastination doesn’t sound like you.”

“You’re right. It’s not. I didn’t know if my living here was going to be permanent. It’s come to my attention that it is, so I’m fully unpacking now. I’m not breaking down and crying over it anymore because they’re not worth it. My parents aren’t hurt by this so why should I be?” 

“Because you’re more human than they are, Enj. I’m not saying you should be breaking down and sobbing every night but if that’s what you need to do to heal, then that’s what you need to do. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

“What they did was fucked up, sure, but you’re coming out on the better end, I think. They can’t try to poison how you think anymore, they can’t control you or whatever the hell they were trying to do. You’re completely free from them. The thing to remember is that you can’t force yourself to get better like this.” Grantaire lay back on the bed with a content sigh. “The more you think about them and what they’re doing, the less you’re going to be able to focus on how amazingly you’re doing.” 

Enjolras stopped moving, his hands still in the dresser drawer. He hadn’t thought about it like that. By stewing over how he wasn’t going to let them win- whatever it was they were winning- he was letting them win anyway. They still had the control they always did. 

“You’re right.” Enjolras nodded. “How do I stop thinking like this?” Grantaire shrugged.

“It’s hard, but it’s possible. It just takes time and support. You’ve got all the support you need. Now the rest is up to you, Enjy. Don’t rush but don’t drag it out either. Listen to your body and your heart. You need to do something, need some self-care, take bubble-baths or whatever it is you do. If you need to go on a drive to clear your head, get away from all this you know I’m a call or text away.”

Enjolras turned from the dresser and knelt on the bed next to Grantaire. He wrapped his arms around R and Grantaire was quick to return the hug. Neither of them knew how long they held each other before they ended up lying together. It wasn’t much longer before the two fell asleep, still in each other’s arms.

*****

It was an hour later when Courf knocked on the bedroom door before entering. He chuckled under his breath when he laid eyes on the two. They were still curled up in each other’s arms, soundly sleeping. He took his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of the two before promptly sending it to Ferre. 

“Enjolras?” Courf’s voice was soft as he shook the teen’s shoulder. “Enjolras.” 

The blond hummed and curled a little tighter into R’s side. He nuzzled his nose against R’s neck and Courf chuckled at the younger’s actions. 

“Dude. You have to go to work in an hour and a half. You should get some food before you go.” Courf spoke, slapping R’s head gently. 

Grantaire jumped, pulling Enjolras closer to him in shock before coming to his senses. Enjolras’s eyes were wide and clearly disoriented. 

“What?”

“You have work soon, Enjy. Get some lunch before you go. I think my boyfriend would break up with me if I didn’t make sure you ate something before you left.” Courf turned to leave the room. “You two are too cute.” 

Enjolras laid back down next to R, the two looking into each other’s eyes. Enjolras curled up against R again. “You’re warm and comfortable.” 

“Thank you?” Grantaire chuckled. 

The painter revelled in the feeling of the boy in his arms. For all he knew, Enjolras regularly cuddled his friends and this could be completely platonic. But he’d never seen the blond cuddle with Ferre. Ferre kissed his forehead every night before he went to bed, but it was usually Jehan he cuddled with, Jehan almost always initiated it first. Thinking about it, Enjolras wasn’t an affectionate person, verbally or physically. Then again, having met his mother and based on what he knew about his father, Grantaire could see how the younger wasn’t. 

“Let’s get some lunch and I’ll bring you to work.” Grantaire prompted. “We can cuddle more later. Don’t worry.” 

As if on cue, Grantaire’s phone went off. He glanced at the text and shook his head in disbelief. “Guess I’m working with you today. One of the newer workers broke her ankle so I’m filling in for a while.” 

“What do you usually do for work?” 

“I’m sort of a jack of all trades, you know? I do commission paintings and logos, I work when I’m needed in a couple different stores and restaurants. I don’t have one designated job. I’ve helped my old boxing teacher with lessons in the past. It’s weird, but I get paid. Good enough for me.” 

“Sounds interesting enough. You want some grilled cheese for lunch? They’re pretty much the only thing I know how to cook other than warming up a can of soup.” 

“Sure. I’ll help. Have you ever made a grilled cheese with mayonnaise instead of butter?” 

“No…” 

“Come on. It’s going to blow your mind.” Grantaire lead the way from Enjolras’s bedroom.

*****

“Have a nice day.” Enjolras gave a small wave as the customer left the cafe. “Why is it so busy?” He huffed a sigh. 

“It’s kinda chilly out. The colder it is, the more they want hot drinks.” 

“It’s chilly? It’s like 70 degrees out.” Enjolras shook his head. 

“70 degrees in July, yeah. People panic when it hits below 75.” Grantaire pulled his beanie off in one smooth motion, ruffling his own hair. “I should grow my hair out so I can tie it back like yours. Stupid regulations.” He put his beanie back on.

“I’m pretty sure people don’t like to find hair in their drinks or on their muffins.” Enjolras smirked, turning to face the taller man. “Besides, you look cute in a beanie. The curls poke out and make your hair look fluffy.” 

Grantaire glanced at his shoes, the tips of his ears feeling warm. He was glad his hair was covering them, otherwise he was sure Enjolras would have been able to see the blush.

“We’ve only got an hour or so left, anyway. Then we get dinner and annoy the hell out of Ferre and Courf. I think Courf gets off around eight tonight.” 

“I think so.” Enjolras commented offhandedly. “Ferre gets off around six. He’s more dedicated than I am. Can you imagine getting full-time hours during the summer? Sure, the money’s nice, but swapping eight hours of school time for eight hours of work. That’s gross.” 

A comment like this would potentially turn someone away from a relationship with a younger person. If they’re still in high school, that’s a no can do. But for Grantaire it was comforting. This young man who had been through so much still had some innocence left. He still wanted free time in the summer, and didn’t think that because he was out of the house he had to take everything on his shoulders by himself. He wasn’t making himself grow up too fast. There was something admirable in that. 

“We can text Jehan and see if they want to come down and play a board game or something between customers and dishwasher cycles.” Grantaire suggested.

“Jehan’s out of town this week, actually. They’re visiting their grandma upstate. She used to come down and visit their family for a couple days, but she got hip replacement surgery, so they and their mom are helping to take care of her.” 

“Jehan’s parents got a divorce, didn’t they?” 

“Mhm.” Enj shook his head. Second grade. Their dad cheated on their mom and she ended it right off the bat. It was a rough time, but they got through it alright. Their mom got full custody and their dad is now living a couple states over with his new...partner?” Enjolras scowled.  “People can be disgusting. You swear you’re going to be loyal to a person and then go and do something like that.”

*****

The bell over the door sounded and both baristas looked up. It was Marius and Cosette. Enjolras was half surprised to see Cosette’s adoptive father wasn’t hovering over them, chaperoning. 

“Hey guys. What can we get you?” Grantaire tightened the ties of his apron behind his back. 

“The banana bread latte sounds interesting,” Cosette said. 

“Alright. What about you, Marius?” Enjolras prompted. 

“What’s the...Almond Joy latte?” 

Enjolras clapped his hands together once. “That’s personally my favorite drink on the menu. It’s a latte but with chocolate, almond, and coconut flavoured syrups. It really does taste like an Almond Joy.” 

“I’ll try that, then.” 

Grantaire was already working on Cosette’s latte so Enjolras could start on Marius’s. Once Cosette’s was done Grantaire went back to the counter and asked if the drinks were together, to which Marius replied that he was paying for them. 

“That’ll be $7.30,” Enjolras punched everything into the computer. 

“Oh Enjy.” Grantaire stepped by Enjolras and pressed a button on the screen. “Friends and Family Discount.”

“Gotcha. Thank you. $6.57.” 

“Out of ten.” Marius handed the bill over the counter and Enjolras gave him the $3.43 change. 

“How long have you two been going out now anyway?” Grantaire wondered. “I haven’t heard a lot of the tea about you guys.” 

“There’s not much to spill.” Cosette shrugged. “We’ve been together for two months. I had a crush on Marius for a while but never really got the chance to talk to him because my dad’s a little overprotective. But I was walking around downtown with a girl I...sort of grew up with and Marius came to say hi. He asked me out and we’ve been together ever since.” Cosette looked at Marius with a dreamy look in her eyes. “But you and Enjolras are both single, right?” 

“Yep. I’m the only gay in theory so far.” Enjolras sighed. “Well, I guess getting kicked out isn’t a theory… I’m like 75 percent there.” 

Grantaire chuckled. “My longest relationship was maybe four months but that guy was weird as hell on a number of different levels.” 

“Well I’m sure you’ll both find someone you care about soon.” Marius said, giving Enjolras a look he hoped the blond would understand.

*****

“They’re completely blind aren’t they?” Cosette asked as she and Marius sat at a table with their drinks. 

“I think so. I also think I creeped Enjolras out…”

“With that look? Yeah. It would have creeped me out if I didn’t know you better.” Cosette took a sip from her drink. “I think they just need a little push towards each other. They already look at each other like they’ve been in love for years.” 

“Maybe they have been. Just not in this life.” 

“What are you talking about, Marius?” Cosette’s confusion was clear on her face and in her voice. 

“Well, I was watching a video on YouTube about reincarnation, and it isn’t impossible that the two of them could have been together in another life.” Marius scratched the back of his neck. “You’ve known Enj longer than I have- almost as long as Jehan and Ferre- and he hasn’t bonded with the rest of us like he has with R.” 

“I guess you do have a point. Reincarnation, though? It’s a fun thought, I’ll give you that. How do you know you’ve been reincarnated?” 

And the conversation soon spiralled away from the two pining baristas.

[jimlingss]

Brass & Strings [2]

Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3 Words: 2.9k Genre: Fluff, Humour (?), Slice of Life, Music!Au, College!Au Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to the mean girl after high school? Where do they go, where do they end up? More importantly, what happens when they get mixed up with the classic nerd that's always too nervous to answer 'no'? Things become a lot more complicated when Kim Namjoon encounters you. They dub you as 'bat-shit insane' and you're not ashamed.

Cr.

Namjoon’s hands are within his lap and he peers down at them, twiddling his fingers and looking anywhere but you. No matter how much you lean down, trying to lock gazes and how intense your stare is, he refuses to meet your eyes. “I-Is there something you need from me?”

You lean back, watching as his glasses slide down the slope of his nose and he pushes it back up again hastily. “No. There’s something you need from me.”

It was quite a feat to catch Kim Namjoon. Every time you approached him, he would run in the opposite direction. When you stared at him in class, he would wipe his sweat away and excuse himself to the bathroom. It took you cornering him in the library after two days and demanding that he follow you to the coffee shop to be able to sit where you are now.

It’s not like you could blame him though. You did splash steaming coffee all over him.

Before the timid man in front of you can ask you what you mean, you slide your phone across the table. Namjoon follows the device and you motion him to press play. He swallows hard, holding it into his hands and his doe irises glue to the video.

Within a few sips of your iced drink, a scan of your surroundings and a short seconds spent gazing outside, when you redirect your vision to him, Namjoon’s face has outright paled.

The harpist gently puts down your phone and his pupils shake, hands back into his lap.

“Did you enjoy that? It definitely caused quite the scene. People became really mad.” You smirk at how his eyes momentarily flicker to your plush lips pressed against the straw. When your tongue pokes out to wet your mouth, he gulps and looks back into your eyes. “Our fellow classmates were about to create an entire riot. After all, how could a musician, no matter what they play, treat an instrument like that. They wanted to...hmm..what was it? Oh yeah, throw this person out of the faculty, make them pay, blacklist them from the music community.”

“That would certainly be a shame, wouldn’t it? To have your passion slip away from your fingers…” You sigh sheepishly, chin resting in your propped hand as your eyes glimmer. “You know, Namjoon, flutes are fairly expensive. The professional ones usually cost more than seventeen thousand but hand-crafted, custom made from professionals, golden plated instruments cost even more so.”

He releases a shaky breath, beads of sweat building at his forehead. The man is so easy to manipulate, so easy to play with, it’s almost sad. Namjoon nearly evokes a sense of guilt within you. “What do you want?”

A giant smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “I’m glad you’re willing to discuss this. But I’ve heard some rumours about you, Namjoon.”

The harpist raises his chin and blinks at you with wide eyes. “R-r-rumours?”

“You’re a science major, aren’t you? Well, you were.” You cross your arms, looking out the glass window again as you tiredly re-tell your sob story for him to hear. “You see, my parents aren’t all on board with me and my music major. Long story short, they’ve made me double major in something I don’t care about and frankly those classes and those assignments are a waste of my precious time.”

Namjoon puts two and two together. “So you want me to take those classes for you?”

“Bingo.” You snap your fingers, grinning at him. “You really are smart.”

“How will that even work? I-I can’t do that for you. It’s...It’s against the rules! T-that’s cheating! We could get thrown out.”

You wave your hand, motioning him to silence. “It’s impossible to become expelled, trust me. And we can figure out the details. But are you on board or not?”

Some might call you spoiled, a bitch or an absolute brat. And you can’t really disagree. Born with a golden spoon, every single inch pampered since birth, your life has been set. Anything and everything that you want, you end up getting. And it seems like this is one of the many times that things won’t change.

“C-can you give me some time to think? Just a little bit to consider…..please?” Namjoon pushes up his glasses again, stealing a glimpse of you as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. You muse that the harpist could be even more cute if he wasn’t wearing such a dirty flannel and he combed his hair for once. At the moment, he looks no less than a pitiful beggar and it allows you to give some mercy to him.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, heaving out the answer like it exhausts you. “I’ll give you twenty four hours. By then, if you refuse or you don’t answer me, I’ll release the video.” Namjoon nods and you add on, “also, I know you wouldn’t but in the case you try to delete it or steal my phone somehow, I’ve got it backed up at several locations. Don’t test me.”

Namjoon observes as your red stained lips draw into yet another smirk. You slide your shades onto your face, swiping your mobile device while snatching your Versace handbag. With a hair flip and your heels clacking against the tile, the cafe door opens and slams, the bell jangling violently.

The harpist holds his head within his hands, groaning and melting into a spineless mess.

//

He wonders what sin he must’ve committed in his past life to deserve this.

It didn’t make sense. Namjoon has helped grannies across the street, hold their grocery bags all the way to their house. He’s given his seat up on the train and the bus for pregnant ladies, children and the elderly when he had pulled all-nighters, ready to pass out at any given chance. Every time there was a charity, Namjoon had forked out the bills he could. He’s the type of person to help at any given chance - to bring wallets he’s found on the street to the police station, to spend an hour with a crying child, consoling them and looking for their parents.

Namjoon wasn’t a saint but he’s not the devil. Not like you are; you’re practically a demon that showed up from nowhere.

“Jimin. I know you’re mad at me but I need your advice right now. More than ever, so can you at least look at me?” Namjoon puts his hand on the shoulders of his roommate and he shakes the shorter man. “Please!”

The cute college student scoffs and brushes his hands away. “Do you even know what you left me to do, Joon?! I had to clean up your mess like always! And I had to scrub the toilets! Why don’t you ever get that job? How is this even fair?” He whines, jumping up and down and wiggling his limbs in protest. Namjoon tries his best not to crack a smile at how cute the angry boy is. “I’m serious!”

“I know.” Namjoon attempts to sympathize. “And I’m sorry, Jimin. You know I can’t help my clumsiness. I promise I’ll clean up after myself next time. Just right now, I need you.”

Jimin mumbles something incoherent and he walks off to the kitchen, handing Namjoon the drying towel. As the latter man unloads the broken dishwasher, the former tucks the plates away in the cabinets. “Jimin, have you ever heard of a L/N Y/N?”

“L/N...sounds familiar.” He frowns and stands on the tips of his toes to put away the mugs. “Oh isn’t that the name of one of the chemistry professors?”

“Professors?” Namjoon frowns. “No. She’s a classmate of mine.”

“Y/N….” Jimin hums and tilts his head to the side. “I think I know who you’re talking about…. Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She’s scary.”

The boy in glasses grimaces and agrees.

Namjoon has never had many friends. Besides the fact that he’s always been shy and timid, those who became friendly with him most frequently had ulterior motives. They’d use him for his brain, answers to homework and to shoulder the burden of entire projects. These people never stuck around or lasted in his life. And despite transferring to a completely new faculty, no one in the science department would ever miss him. In Namjoon’s mind, he isn’t very memorable.

There is, however, one individual who he’s sort of befriended.

“Y/N?” The tenor saxophonist leans in closer, an appalled expression on his face. “Why would you ever want to know about her?”

Taehyung is someone Namjoon met in his Chromatic Harmony class, a mischievous boy who regularly brings in Chinese takeout, obnoxiously slurping noodles as the professor speaks, gaining the attention of everyone around and he almost always falls into a food coma afterwards. Ever since Taehyung stumbled in and took the last seat next to the harpist and asked Namjoon if he had toilet paper on him, Namjoon’s been saving him a seat.

The two of them get along pretty well for one person being a huge extrovert and the other a closed off introvert - opposites attract after all. “I’m just curious…”

“She’s good. One of the best...maybe even the best.” Taehyung murmurs as the both of them turn down the hallway. “Her knowledge on music composition and her playing is impeccable. The conductor never has anything to say or nitpick about her technique. If she was a violinist, she’d probably beat Jennie and be the concertmistress. I’ve also heard rumours that she’s a musical genius? I wouldn’t doubt that either.”

“But Y/N’s horrible.” The blonde man stops all together, causing Namjoon to halt hot on his toes. Taehyung darts his head around and pulls the other off to the side, whispering under his breath, “everyone’s a bit afraid of her, even the conductor himself. I’ve heard she made freshmen cry before and a few people drop out. Her tongue is sharp and she’s a mean bitch but no one can say anything or argue why she can’t be here. She’s a hard worker and naturally talented at what she does. It’s like heaven favours her or something. Seriously though, if I were you, I’d steer clear from Y/N.”

Taehyung warns Namjoon one more time, “they say she can manipulate other people’s emotions to get what she wants and she’s frighteningly good at it.”

Like an enchantress, people don’t realize that they’ve followed your demands until it’s over. It always feels like you’re the one doing them a favour. By merely being in their presence, they’ve already felt privileged. It’s a talent. It’s a gift.

Namjoon didn’t even realize he had been played right into your hands until it hit him.

But even if he wants to escape, he can’t.

He’s completely trapped.

“Have you made a decision?” Your fingernails tap against the wooden surface, making him more and more anxious. Namjoon is a marionette doll, trying to cut his own strings to freedom but with a simple smirk from your lips, his arms are pulled back into position and he’s helpless.

He finally understands why people call you scary.

Your twinkling eyeballs bore into his skin. Namjoon rubs his clammy palms together.

He loves music. He can’t give it up. If attending classes for you is all he needs to pursue his passion then...

A good three seconds pass and he finally cracks under the pressure. “Okay.”

“Great.” Your grin is bright, getting what you want as usual. For a second, he thinks you resemble a child ripping presents on Christmas. And you would certainly retain the innocent image if not for his perception of you as the devil incarnate. “There’s no need to make things complicated by writing out a formal contract, right? If you go against my plans then I’ll release the video. As simple as that.”

Namjoon gulps and nods. His glasses are full of stains but he still pushes them up, focusing his pupils in his lap. You’re puzzled as to why he often doesn’t look you in the eyes. “I’ll give you my schedule. Most of the time attendance is for grades but all they do is pass around a sheet of paper so you can just write my name down, yeah? And you can do my homework and projects. We’ll figure out more details later for exams and tests. I don’t really care about getting good marks in those classes so don’t break your back over it.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”

“As I said before...it’s impossible for me to get thrown out. At least for me...” You take a good look at him. Today, he’s wearing an worn sweatshirt with streaks of paint blemishing the gray fabric and the letters on front are illegible from being washed a few hundred times. It looks like a rag you would use. “And I can protect you too. Don’t worry about things like being expelled.”

As your smile grows, one that resembles an angel ironically, Namjoon truly wonders what on earth he did to deserve this.

It hadn’t been a full day before you were already terrorizing his life.

All you had done was call him shouting ‘get over here!’ and while Namjoon was stunned and confused, you hung up on him and his phone lit up with a text of an address. Now he was running to you like some personal slave. “Is everything okay?!”

His glasses are hanging half off his face. He was in the middle of a shower, shampoo and soap studs still coating the strands of his hair. His white hoodie is half drenched from not drying his body off with a towel beforehand. But his mind is boggling from your figure, orbs sweeping up and down your form. “What-?”

You slide down your sunglasses, smirking at how he’s hyperventilating; the effort of his trip here is clearly evident. There are about twenty shopping bags by your feet and you’re sitting on the plush armchair like it’s your throne. The ladies behind the boutique counter smile stiffly at Namjoon.

All around him is expensive clothing racks. The coats and dresses are equivalent to him selling all four of his limbs on the black market. There are ritzy handbags showcased behind glass casing, white lights shining down on the sparkling products. Every jewel, handwatch and tie, the ironed suits and shoes belong to brand names he’s only seen in magazines; Hermès and Louis Vuitton, Gucci and Chanel. Namjoon’s never quite stepped in a luxurious store like this.

“You made me wait a few minutes too long.” You ‘tut’ with your tongue, uncrossing your legs to stand tall with your brand new heels. “Just grab the bags and let’s go.”

As you throw open the doors, Namjoon struggles to haul all twenty bags on his arms but he manages to, panting and huffing as he catches up with you. “T-This is why you called me?”

“There are too many of them for me to carry on my own. You don’t mind, do you?” You pout your lips innocently, batting your long lashes back and forth. Namjoon prays for more patience.

You don’t wait for his reply, entering the next store with ludicrous prices, carding through the racks with your fingers. Anything that you like, you throw into the piles. Namjoon follows you from one place to the next, a servant to your shopaholic tendencies. The pair of you enter at least seven more stores, each with him following you like a shadow or puppy. And for the first time, rather than being scared, Namjoon is massively annoyed with you.

“That’ll be nine hundred and eighty dollars.” The lady behind the counter begins wrapping up your new blouses and skirts. You open your wallet, hand ghosting along the many cards.

Namjoon watches over your shoulder as you play eeny, meeny, miny, moe before you take a random one out. “Here you go.”

After you exit, the harpist can’t help but be curious. “Why do you have so many credit cards?”

“Oh, they’re not mine.”

“Then….?” It belatedly hits him, striking him like a freight train. It all makes sense. For someone as attractive as yourself, having all this money..…“Are you a sugar baby?”

Your face twists in distaste. “I don’t really like putting labels on things...it’s more like...sometimes I go on dates with wealthy people to get gifts from them. I give the lonely the company they desire. You’d be surprised how much someone could make it a week doing that sort of thing.”

There are fifteen bags each hanging off of Namjoon’s arms and he’s tired, exhausted. But for a mere moment, it all washes away with his slight growing curiosity of you. Namjoon thought that you were a spoiled brat and you are. Though, like anyone else, there were so many things he didn’t know….like an onion with many layers. He just hasn’t uncovered all of yours yet…

“Isn’t it time to get to class?” You glance at the clock in the center of the shopping plaza. “I think there’s only an hour left. You better start running if you don’t want to be late!”

Namjoon puts the bags down and without bidding you goodbye, begins to book it down the street. Your cackling laugh rings inside his ears as he calculates how long it would take to grab his belongings before sitting down in the lecture room for your biochem class. He also ponders again - what he did to deserve this. What he has gotten himself into?

Namjoon’s just sure that he’s going to have to be with you for a long time.

[easyfoodnetwork]

Brooklyn Restaurant Owner Francesca Chaney on Who Gets to Be ‘Well’

The Sol Sips owner wants to see healthier, more mindful workplaces throughout the restaurant industry

Who gets to be well? Francesca Chaney tries to answer that question every day at Sol Sips, her vegan cafe in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn. Through accessible, feel-good food, the 2019 Eater Young Gun shows how a successful business can uplift everyone, specifically the Black and brown people often excluded from wellness conversations. The cafe serves not just plant-based nutrition, but also free cooking classes to engage the community and provide inspiration to restaurant owners across the city.

Chaney pushes for wellness on the other side of the counter, too. “[A restaurant] doesn’t have to inherently be exploitive,” she says, suggesting owners think about “upholding the actual people that are [working] in these spaces regardless of the job description — upholding them and saying, ‘I support you and I see what you’re doing. I’m going to make sure that you feel supported, that you feel safe.’”

As many owners re-examine toxic workplaces, Chaney urges a total re-imagining of the relationship between boss and employee, and between cook and customer, suggesting a holistic alternative in which leaders value workers and chefs seek to provide nourishment over profit. “I’m always doing that work to evaluate because I’m not a person who’s completely 100 percent free of accountability,” she adds. “It’s a process of figuring out and navigating the service industry.” As she helps Eater conceptualize the ideal future of restaurants, Chaney shares her own evolution and her vision of wellness for all.

Eater: What do you think is going to happen in the next five years?

Francesca Chaney: I’m interested to see how the culture of dining and breaking bread with each other changes or transforms, and if there’s going to be more room for transforming the service industry. We already know the way that the service industry can be exploited.

I’m hoping that servers’ wage [the tipped minimum wage] is something we reassess: figuring out [how we] can support individuals who are working in the service industry and are banking on these tips. And being a little bit more holistic in thinking about how tedious, physical, and mentally draining it is to be in kitchen and restaurant culture, sometimes for seven days straight for some people. I’m looking forward to seeing a care-based approach that supports people working in this industry from the ground up.

Other than that, I would really hope that we’re moving away from valuing nourishing people based on the numbers, the amount of orders we can put out per hour. Can we actually consider the human experience in consuming this food? I would really like to see more reverence toward the human body in the everyday work of nourishing human beings.

A chalkboard sign for Sol Sips in the space’s current outdoor dining setup

What does a healthy workplace culture look like in the restaurant industry?

Definitely getting rid of servers’ wage. And then, for me, not creating a hierarchy — so we’re not thinking about the dishwasher as someone just washing the dishes. We’re valuing the fact that these dishes are being done so that we can get more work done; it’s a vital part of the flow of work. We’re not just looking at it like, “this is a dishwasher, this is a porter.” We are looking at the work culture from the team-based perspective. Everyone is a key player.

Something that I would also like to see within healthy work culture is tending to people’s needs a little more. I’ve noticed in a rush, or on a Saturday, if it’s just a lot of work, everyone is in it until we get the work done. I’ve been working on being more mindful of [things like] more breaks for water for everyone, more nourishment, and making sure people feel supported.

And then maybe not upholding the seven-day-a-week practice that I feel is such a route to burnout within the restaurant industry. Is there a real need to be open six or seven days a week? Can this industry function on five days? I’m not saying I’m advocating for everyone just shortening their hours. I don’t know everyone’s situation; I don’t know what their needs are or what they’re looking to get in return on their investment. But I’ve had conversations with restaurateurs who are like, “We don’t even need employees to make the food. We can just have this machine that’s making this food or taking the orders. People just come up to the iPad and put their order in.”

I would like the general culture to value each human being, so that it can transfer back into valuing human interaction in the actual service of the food between customers and the workspace environment.

What responsibilities will future restaurants have toward their customers and their neighborhoods?

We’re thinking about the culture of the space. This is a conversation I’ve had with other restaurateurs in Bushwick, and I’ve had to call them in on this because we work to say, “I’m a restaurateur and I’m not racist” or “I’m a restaurateur and I’m hiring locally.” And that’s enough. But also, what culture are you upholding in the environment? I’ve been to restaurants and bars in Bushwick where I’m cool with the owner, but when I go in there on a regular Saturday night, I’m the only Black person in there. That’s not to say that the owners don’t have interactions with Black people. It’s just they’re upholding a space that’s contributing toward gentrification, where people in the neighborhood feel very comfortable with being lax about the topic, or just being exclusive, even in how they interact with each other on a regular Friday or Saturday night.

We’re using these jargony terms like “being inclusive” or “being mindful of people that are coming in” or “mindful consumption,” but I think it’s just like, “value the human being.” Value every person that comes inside your space. [We need to] start moving from: how much we can make based on how we design the space, who’s going to think it’s hip, or how much money they have in their pockets, or what trust fund babies are going to be supporting this space. [And start] saying, “Wherever you’re opening your restaurant, can anyone just come in here and feel comfortable to get a meal?” ... I value the human experience in my space over the aesthetic of “Is this Instagrammable?” or “Is this going to be the it place in food?” It’s really not about that. It’s food. We have to be mindful.

What’s going to drive these changes? Does it come from customers, education from chefs, an industrywide push?

That’s hard to tell. I would hope that it’s a collective conversation where everyone’s input is involved. We value feedback from all ends of the spectrum and we uphold it. We might not have a choice to say, “These people will drive the conversation.” It might be that the conversation is here and it’s happening and it’s now. We have to address the need to be more responsible with food and more responsible with access.

I’m looking forward to seeing more visibility in the food world that isn’t based on who’s going to drive numbers or influence or profit for a restaurant concept or a media company that’s amplifying the voices of people in the food world. I would love to just see a range of different people, whether it’s one of my homegirls that has a food business that she’s running out of her home kitchen that is nourishing to the folks around her. Different things that don’t have to exist within the structure of Michelin or even Eater saying, “This is the creme de la creme of food.” I would like to see the narrative go different places. Everyone has their own connection with food because everyone has to interact with it. People are doing different things that may be so unknown to us; it’s important to share because it’s their story. I would love to see that visibility in the community and in the restaurant of the future.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2QHquXJ https://ift.tt/34PjRuV

The Sol Sips owner wants to see healthier, more mindful workplaces throughout the restaurant industry

Who gets to be well? Francesca Chaney tries to answer that question every day at Sol Sips, her vegan cafe in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn. Through accessible, feel-good food, the 2019 Eater Young Gun shows how a successful business can uplift everyone, specifically the Black and brown people often excluded from wellness conversations. The cafe serves not just plant-based nutrition, but also free cooking classes to engage the community and provide inspiration to restaurant owners across the city.

Chaney pushes for wellness on the other side of the counter, too. “[A restaurant] doesn’t have to inherently be exploitive,” she says, suggesting owners think about “upholding the actual people that are [working] in these spaces regardless of the job description — upholding them and saying, ‘I support you and I see what you’re doing. I’m going to make sure that you feel supported, that you feel safe.’”

As many owners re-examine toxic workplaces, Chaney urges a total re-imagining of the relationship between boss and employee, and between cook and customer, suggesting a holistic alternative in which leaders value workers and chefs seek to provide nourishment over profit. “I’m always doing that work to evaluate because I’m not a person who’s completely 100 percent free of accountability,” she adds. “It’s a process of figuring out and navigating the service industry.” As she helps Eater conceptualize the ideal future of restaurants, Chaney shares her own evolution and her vision of wellness for all.

Eater: What do you think is going to happen in the next five years?

Francesca Chaney: I’m interested to see how the culture of dining and breaking bread with each other changes or transforms, and if there’s going to be more room for transforming the service industry. We already know the way that the service industry can be exploited.

I’m hoping that servers’ wage [the tipped minimum wage] is something we reassess: figuring out [how we] can support individuals who are working in the service industry and are banking on these tips. And being a little bit more holistic in thinking about how tedious, physical, and mentally draining it is to be in kitchen and restaurant culture, sometimes for seven days straight for some people. I’m looking forward to seeing a care-based approach that supports people working in this industry from the ground up.

Other than that, I would really hope that we’re moving away from valuing nourishing people based on the numbers, the amount of orders we can put out per hour. Can we actually consider the human experience in consuming this food? I would really like to see more reverence toward the human body in the everyday work of nourishing human beings.

A chalkboard sign for Sol Sips in the space’s current outdoor dining setup

What does a healthy workplace culture look like in the restaurant industry?

Definitely getting rid of servers’ wage. And then, for me, not creating a hierarchy — so we’re not thinking about the dishwasher as someone just washing the dishes. We’re valuing the fact that these dishes are being done so that we can get more work done; it’s a vital part of the flow of work. We’re not just looking at it like, “this is a dishwasher, this is a porter.” We are looking at the work culture from the team-based perspective. Everyone is a key player.

Something that I would also like to see within healthy work culture is tending to people’s needs a little more. I’ve noticed in a rush, or on a Saturday, if it’s just a lot of work, everyone is in it until we get the work done. I’ve been working on being more mindful of [things like] more breaks for water for everyone, more nourishment, and making sure people feel supported.

And then maybe not upholding the seven-day-a-week practice that I feel is such a route to burnout within the restaurant industry. Is there a real need to be open six or seven days a week? Can this industry function on five days? I’m not saying I’m advocating for everyone just shortening their hours. I don’t know everyone’s situation; I don’t know what their needs are or what they’re looking to get in return on their investment. But I’ve had conversations with restaurateurs who are like, “We don’t even need employees to make the food. We can just have this machine that’s making this food or taking the orders. People just come up to the iPad and put their order in.”

I would like the general culture to value each human being, so that it can transfer back into valuing human interaction in the actual service of the food between customers and the workspace environment.

What responsibilities will future restaurants have toward their customers and their neighborhoods?

We’re thinking about the culture of the space. This is a conversation I’ve had with other restaurateurs in Bushwick, and I’ve had to call them in on this because we work to say, “I’m a restaurateur and I’m not racist” or “I’m a restaurateur and I’m hiring locally.” And that’s enough. But also, what culture are you upholding in the environment? I’ve been to restaurants and bars in Bushwick where I’m cool with the owner, but when I go in there on a regular Saturday night, I’m the only Black person in there. That’s not to say that the owners don’t have interactions with Black people. It’s just they’re upholding a space that’s contributing toward gentrification, where people in the neighborhood feel very comfortable with being lax about the topic, or just being exclusive, even in how they interact with each other on a regular Friday or Saturday night.

We’re using these jargony terms like “being inclusive” or “being mindful of people that are coming in” or “mindful consumption,” but I think it’s just like, “value the human being.” Value every person that comes inside your space. [We need to] start moving from: how much we can make based on how we design the space, who’s going to think it’s hip, or how much money they have in their pockets, or what trust fund babies are going to be supporting this space. [And start] saying, “Wherever you’re opening your restaurant, can anyone just come in here and feel comfortable to get a meal?” ... I value the human experience in my space over the aesthetic of “Is this Instagrammable?” or “Is this going to be the it place in food?” It’s really not about that. It’s food. We have to be mindful.

What’s going to drive these changes? Does it come from customers, education from chefs, an industrywide push?

That’s hard to tell. I would hope that it’s a collective conversation where everyone’s input is involved. We value feedback from all ends of the spectrum and we uphold it. We might not have a choice to say, “These people will drive the conversation.” It might be that the conversation is here and it’s happening and it’s now. We have to address the need to be more responsible with food and more responsible with access.

I’m looking forward to seeing more visibility in the food world that isn’t based on who’s going to drive numbers or influence or profit for a restaurant concept or a media company that’s amplifying the voices of people in the food world. I would love to just see a range of different people, whether it’s one of my homegirls that has a food business that she’s running out of her home kitchen that is nourishing to the folks around her. Different things that don’t have to exist within the structure of Michelin or even Eater saying, “This is the creme de la creme of food.” I would like to see the narrative go different places. Everyone has their own connection with food because everyone has to interact with it. People are doing different things that may be so unknown to us; it’s important to share because it’s their story. I would love to see that visibility in the community and in the restaurant of the future.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2QHquXJ via Blogger https://ift.tt/3gQvm7H

[nattobreath]

Seasonal Resort Jobs in Japan!

This is a long yet incomplete guide to embarking on an adventure working seasonal resort jobs throughout Japan.

Note: This has been written for those who already have working permission in Japan, whether it’s some sort of visa or Japanese nationality. If you don’t fit either category, this guide is mostly useless as employers typically do not sponsor visas for seasonal workers. Exceptions exist for those with specialized skills, such as ski/snowboard instructors or dive-masters.

TYPES OF JOBS There are MANY types of seasonal resort jobs! Most are not that glamorous, but the job itself is not what draws most people to these positions.

Large resort hotels have the most positions. At a hotel, you could be a restaurant server, concierge staff, or gift shop clerk. If you hate dealing with customers or aren‘t that confident in your Japanese, dishwasher or custodial positions would be a good fit.

For those interested in working in traditional Japanese hospitality, there are positions in ryokans, temple-stays, onsen resorts, and traditional restaurants as well. Other possible places you could work are theme parks, pet hotels, dog cafes, and rental shops. (Rental of items such as skis, snowboards, kayaks, jet skis, etc.) If you have the proper certification, you could apply to be a ski, snowboard, or scuba instructor too.

There are more jobs than I can even tell you about. Now, how do you find them?

FINDING A JOB

If you google “resort job Japan”, you will find many online English listings of seasonal jobs. This is a good start to your job hunt, but in my experience, the jobs with the best pay and conditions are listed in Japanese, and the most hassle-free way to find a job is through a resort job recruiting agency. It will seem intimidating if your Japanese is not too great but don’t worry, people who speak very little Japanese find jobs with them.

A recruiter will introduce you to a HUGE variety of jobs throughout the entire country. Tell them what matters to you, whether it’s a specific wage, location, or type of position. They will go out of their way to find positions that suit you. After you ask lots of questions about each position, you choose one you want to apply to. If none interest you, the recruiter will try to find more jobs for you.

The two most well-known recruiting agencies in Japan for resort baito are アプリ (https://hataraku.com/) and ヒューマニック (http://www.rizoba.com/). You can make your account online, and most agencies do Skype interviews. It is possible to meet in person too, if you live in a bigger city in Japan.

In terms of what recruiting agency is the best, I can’t really say. My advice is to sign up for several recruiting agencies and talk to representatives from each one to see what kind of positions they have available.

Fun tip: The same exact job at a particular hotel may be offered through both companies, but with different conditions. For example, with Recruiter A, all meals at the employee canteen are free with and the hourly wage is 940. With Recruiter B, you get a 10000 yen monthly food stipend and the hourly wage is 1000 yen per hour. If you eat a lot, Recruiter A is the better deal. If you don’t eat a lot or prefer to cook your own food, Recruiter B is the better deal.

I like recruiters because for each job they provide a detailed packet. In the packet, there is a thorough description of the position and the working conditions, along with information about the surrounding area such as whether there are supermarkets, public transportation, and so forth. Most will even include photos of the employee dormitories or canteen and a list of items you will definitely need to pack.

Within each recruiting company, there is a 担当者 for all the positions within a certain area. This person regularly visits each business where they have connected workers to jobs to check on them and make sure things are going well. Hence, the tantousha should be fairly knowledgeable about the positions they are introducing you to.

Of course, even with all the information provided about a job, stuff gets left out. Ask questions, too many questions. Do further research and Google the shit out of the business of the job you are interested in. You won’t find job reviews, but customer reviews are very telling.

There was a rental shop position I thought sounded great on paper: decent hourly wage, free housing and food, plus free ski/snowboard rentals! When I Googled it, I found that customers consistently complained about how miserably rude the staff was in reviews. I went with a different position.

 HOW EARLY TO START JOB HUNTING?

Securing a resort job through the recruiting agencies is a very quick process. If you are applying from outside Japan, you could begin your hunt before arriving and finalize it once you are in the country. Many jobs are not filled far in advance. The exception would be winter ski resort jobs, where the best jobs get snapped up quickly and there are even wait lists if you wait too long into the season to start job hunting.

Here was how my ski job hunt went last year.

Early October 2016: I browsed some recruiting website and created online accounts with the ones that had jobs that interested me. I spoke on the phone with to discuss what I was looking for. I decided to narrow my search to Nagano and Gifu prefectures. I was emailed a bunch of different PDFs of job offers. I was very overwhelmed at all the job offers, and felt a lot of pressure from the recruiters to commit. Work was getting pretty hectic too, so I decided to hold off on my hunt until after quitting my job and moving out of Nagoya.

November 8, 2016: I had quit my job, moved to Tokyo, and had a lot of free time, so I restarted the ski job hunt. I received new job packets from the recruiters, as many of the positions I had been introduced to were filled. I took about a week to look them all over, scribbling notes and sorting out the jobs I liked and didn't like.

Soon after, I stopped communication with all but one recruiting agency. There were just a ridiculous number of jobs to consider, and I needed to narrow it down somehow. I decided restaurant work was best for my Japanese skill level. I had been interested in working a ski lift position, but then realized how utterly cold it would be and wanted to avoid liability issues in case of customer injuries.

November 15, 2016: I met with the recruiter in person to ask for clarification about the positions I was interested in. We also Skyped the 担当者 of the positions so I could learn more about them. At the end of that meeting, I decided what position I wanted to apply to.

November 29, 2016: I got the job! Until departure, I took care of some final paperwork and packed.

December 15, 2016: Off to Hakuba I went!

To get an idea of when to secure your job, have a look at recruiting agency websites to see what start dates they are hiring for now. It never hurts to start hunting sooner but know that when you actually apply, the jobs you were looking at may already be filled. In April, I contacted a recruiter about beach resort jobs starting July 15 and was told I would no one would be hiring for that start date until mid-June. I dislike being unable to plan ahead, but there are always positions available somewhere so I’m not fretting too much.

I hope this information helps all you adventurers out there! Good luck, and have fun. Also, feel free to message me about anything.

[easyfoodnetwork]

The Sol Sips owner wants to see healthier, more mindful workplaces throughout the restaurant industry Who gets to be well? Francesca Chaney tries to answer that question every day at Sol Sips, her vegan cafe in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn. Through accessible, feel-good food, the 2019 Eater Young Gun shows how a successful business can uplift everyone, specifically the Black and brown people often excluded from wellness conversations. The cafe serves not just plant-based nutrition, but also free cooking classes to engage the community and provide inspiration to restaurant owners across the city. Chaney pushes for wellness on the other side of the counter, too. “[A restaurant] doesn’t have to inherently be exploitive,” she says, suggesting owners think about “upholding the actual people that are [working] in these spaces regardless of the job description — upholding them and saying, ‘I support you and I see what you’re doing. I’m going to make sure that you feel supported, that you feel safe.’” As many owners re-examine toxic workplaces, Chaney urges a total re-imagining of the relationship between boss and employee, and between cook and customer, suggesting a holistic alternative in which leaders value workers and chefs seek to provide nourishment over profit. “I’m always doing that work to evaluate because I’m not a person who’s completely 100 percent free of accountability,” she adds. “It’s a process of figuring out and navigating the service industry.” As she helps Eater conceptualize the ideal future of restaurants, Chaney shares her own evolution and her vision of wellness for all. Eater: What do you think is going to happen in the next five years? Francesca Chaney: I’m interested to see how the culture of dining and breaking bread with each other changes or transforms, and if there’s going to be more room for transforming the service industry. We already know the way that the service industry can be exploited. I’m hoping that servers’ wage [the tipped minimum wage] is something we reassess: figuring out [how we] can support individuals who are working in the service industry and are banking on these tips. And being a little bit more holistic in thinking about how tedious, physical, and mentally draining it is to be in kitchen and restaurant culture, sometimes for seven days straight for some people. I’m looking forward to seeing a care-based approach that supports people working in this industry from the ground up. Other than that, I would really hope that we’re moving away from valuing nourishing people based on the numbers, the amount of orders we can put out per hour. Can we actually consider the human experience in consuming this food? I would really like to see more reverence toward the human body in the everyday work of nourishing human beings. A chalkboard sign for Sol Sips in the space’s current outdoor dining setup What does a healthy workplace culture look like in the restaurant industry? Definitely getting rid of servers’ wage. And then, for me, not creating a hierarchy — so we’re not thinking about the dishwasher as someone just washing the dishes. We’re valuing the fact that these dishes are being done so that we can get more work done; it’s a vital part of the flow of work. We’re not just looking at it like, “this is a dishwasher, this is a porter.” We are looking at the work culture from the team-based perspective. Everyone is a key player. Something that I would also like to see within healthy work culture is tending to people’s needs a little more. I’ve noticed in a rush, or on a Saturday, if it’s just a lot of work, everyone is in it until we get the work done. I’ve been working on being more mindful of [things like] more breaks for water for everyone, more nourishment, and making sure people feel supported. And then maybe not upholding the seven-day-a-week practice that I feel is such a route to burnout within the restaurant industry. Is there a real need to be open six or seven days a week? Can this industry function on five days? I’m not saying I’m advocating for everyone just shortening their hours. I don’t know everyone’s situation; I don’t know what their needs are or what they’re looking to get in return on their investment. But I’ve had conversations with restaurateurs who are like, “We don’t even need employees to make the food. We can just have this machine that’s making this food or taking the orders. People just come up to the iPad and put their order in.” I would like the general culture to value each human being, so that it can transfer back into valuing human interaction in the actual service of the food between customers and the workspace environment. What responsibilities will future restaurants have toward their customers and their neighborhoods? We’re thinking about the culture of the space. This is a conversation I’ve had with other restaurateurs in Bushwick, and I’ve had to call them in on this because we work to say, “I’m a restaurateur and I’m not racist” or “I’m a restaurateur and I’m hiring locally.” And that’s enough. But also, what culture are you upholding in the environment? I’ve been to restaurants and bars in Bushwick where I’m cool with the owner, but when I go in there on a regular Saturday night, I’m the only Black person in there. That’s not to say that the owners don’t have interactions with Black people. It’s just they’re upholding a space that’s contributing toward gentrification, where people in the neighborhood feel very comfortable with being lax about the topic, or just being exclusive, even in how they interact with each other on a regular Friday or Saturday night. We’re using these jargony terms like “being inclusive” or “being mindful of people that are coming in” or “mindful consumption,” but I think it’s just like, “value the human being.” Value every person that comes inside your space. [We need to] start moving from: how much we can make based on how we design the space, who’s going to think it’s hip, or how much money they have in their pockets, or what trust fund babies are going to be supporting this space. [And start] saying, “Wherever you’re opening your restaurant, can anyone just come in here and feel comfortable to get a meal?” ... I value the human experience in my space over the aesthetic of “Is this Instagrammable?” or “Is this going to be the it place in food?” It’s really not about that. It’s food. We have to be mindful. What’s going to drive these changes? Does it come from customers, education from chefs, an industrywide push? That’s hard to tell. I would hope that it’s a collective conversation where everyone’s input is involved. We value feedback from all ends of the spectrum and we uphold it. We might not have a choice to say, “These people will drive the conversation.” It might be that the conversation is here and it’s happening and it’s now. We have to address the need to be more responsible with food and more responsible with access. I’m looking forward to seeing more visibility in the food world that isn’t based on who’s going to drive numbers or influence or profit for a restaurant concept or a media company that’s amplifying the voices of people in the food world. I would love to just see a range of different people, whether it’s one of my homegirls that has a food business that she’s running out of her home kitchen that is nourishing to the folks around her. Different things that don’t have to exist within the structure of Michelin or even Eater saying, “This is the creme de la creme of food.” I would like to see the narrative go different places. Everyone has their own connection with food because everyone has to interact with it. People are doing different things that may be so unknown to us; it’s important to share because it’s their story. I would love to see that visibility in the community and in the restaurant of the future. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2QHquXJ

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