Sorry for being inactive, but I am moving away for college/uni on Tuesday and also starting it on the same day, so it’s a lot! lol
I will be living in a dorm, so let’s pray that my roommate won’t ask questions when I'm up late at night cooking a fanfic, and let's not fool ourselves, probably instead of studying (I am so sorry)
I am so excited and kinda terrified at the same time…
Anyways... the point is I don't have time for writing right now, my babes.
But I'll keep you posted 🍒
FML Harry is a human too, you cunts, let him live his life...
One time, he'll break, and it will be all your (paparazzi's) fault.
Fuck all of you with sincerity, you morons.
I have no other fucking words.
> warnings and content: total fluff, use of pet names (my pretty girl, sweet girl, pretty boy)
> word count: 656 words
> summary: your frat boyfriend makes any and every excuse to sneak you away during your shift.
a/n: this is my first ever component of writing, yes there will be mistakes.
The bells on the door gave a muted jingle as I stepped onto the familiar wood floors of the crowded coffee shop.
Warmth wrapped around me, laced with the sharp sweetness of coffee beans, and I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my cheeks. I shrugged off my heavy wool coat—the last line of defence against the biting chill outside—and let the noise of chatter and clinking mugs swallow me whole.
I slipped between clusters of people, weaving past the steam rising from their cups. A Christmas song hummed in the background, muffled under the crowd, a soft reminder that winter waited just outside. But I wasn’t here for the music.
I was here for you.
There you stood behind the counter, apron tied neat, your “work face” on as you greeted the next customer. My chest loosened at the sight of you—exhausted but glowing, barely done with classes and already buried in your shift. My sweet, sweet girl.
I craned over a few shoulders—maybe breaking the line a little, but hey, who else in here is dating the barista?
Exactly.
“Holy hell, you’re hot. Can I get your number?” I teased as I reached the counter, lifting your hand and brushing soft kisses across your knuckles.
You chuckled, and that sound alone could’ve carried me through winter.
“What are you doing here?” you whispered through a wide smile, careful to hide it from the elderly woman standing behind me.
“Buying coffee, duh.” I said it with mock seriousness, earning myself a scoff.
Your neck tilted past me, scanning the line, and I already knew who you were looking for.
“Nope. Promise. I didn’t bring my frat friends today. I do not need another three-hour lecture about that.”
You arched a brow, remembering the night I stumbled in with thirty-two drunk idiots near the end of your shift.
“Good. Because I don’t like them,” you said flatly, with zero hesitation.
I rolled my eyes, not really mad, just impossibly glad to be here. Glad to see you.
“They’re not that bad,” I mumbled, my voice low. “Just… drunk.”
“How drunk, pretty boy?” you asked, lips twitching into a smirk.
I sighed, dramatically. “I came here to hang out with my girlfriend, and she’s grilling me about my friends. Amazing.”
You giggled, then switched back to your customer-service tone. “Alright, boyfriend-of- the-year, step aside. Can’t hog the line if you’re not ordering.”
I stiffened, suddenly aware of the daggers being stared into my back. Guess the old woman behind us didnt exactly love the idea of... love.
Clearing my throat, I straightened. “Uh, yes, I’d absolutely love a… Boyfriend Special, Miss Barista-I-Don’t-Know.”
You bit back a grin as you pretended to type it in.
“And what will you be paying with, sir?” you said loud enough for the grinch behind us to hear.
I tapped my cheek. “This face?”
You shoved my shoulder, snickering. “Go grab a table, dummy. Five minutes, I swear.”
Hand on my chest in fake outrage, I staggered toward an empty seat, managing to trip over at least three people on the way. You laughed so hard your eyes crinkled, and that alone made it worth the clumsiness.
“Kids these days,” the woman behind me muttered, leaning on her cane, thick pink glasses sliding down her nose.
“Sorry about that,” you said politely, though I could see the laughter still bubbling behind your lips.
For the record, I’ve never wanted to pull an old lady’s hair so badly—only stopped by the fear that it might actually come off in my hand.
She scoffed again, clutching her pearl-covered purse.
yeah, i would clutch my pearls right about now too.
“Boyfriend Special? Christmas drink? I want that---after that long wait you better make it perfect.” she grumbled condescendingly.
You covered your mouth to hide your laugh, eyes darting toward me.
“Coming right up, ma’am,” you said, delivering the one-time-only, extra-limited edition:
Although I have disagreed with Charlie Kirk's political views, I am terrified by what has happened to him.
Murder is never okay, guys.
Whatever is happening in the US right now, please stay safe, everyone.