hazel ♡

“ugh… come onnnn, wake up,” you grunted, frustrated by having to fight this exhaustion until you make it to your apartment.

you forced your foot down on the gas, but that was too much—the engine revved louder than expected, and your car lurched forward before you eased back, forcing it into a smoother glide.

the street curved, and you followed, blinking through the headache, through the fog in your head.

had you forgotten your way home? you could remember, right? the same way you took every day!?

“home… home… go home,” you muttered, trying to jumpstart your sluggish brain.

you continue driving, just praying that you don’t crash this car you don’t have the money to fix.

you slow down, squinting to see what color the light up ahead even was.

the light was green. you stared at it for a second, brain lagging behind the signal.

then—

a sharp honk from behind. long, impatient.

you were startled, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. some guy in a beat-up sedan. another honk, this one shorter, angrier.

“alright, alright,” you muttered, voice thick, words slurring together.

another honk.

you scowled, rolling down your window. “calm down!” you yelled, or tried to—it came out messy, vowels dragging, barely coherent. “go around or somethin’!”

he leaned out his own window, his voice sharp, pissed. “lights not getting any fuckin’ greener, lady!”

you flip the driver off as their car swerved around you, speeding past with another angry honk.

asshole.

you huffed, shaking your head, forcing yourself to focus on the road. the light ahead turned yellow. you squinted at it, and decided you didn’t feel like waiting at another red.

so you turned.

you needed to get home, and as fast and possible. nothing wrong with just turning.

didn’t even think about it, just flicked the wheel, tires rolling smoothly over the pavement as you took a sharp left.

the wrong kind of left.

you cut through a solid red light, into an empty intersection, straight across lanes you weren’t supposed to cross.

the turn hadn’t been legal. wrong lane, wrong speed, wrong everything. but it was fine. probably.

until the red and blue lights damn near blinded you. your stomach twisted. a cop car. the siren blipped once, unmistakably asking you to pull over.

you eased the car toward the curb, hands tightening around the wheel like you could somehow squeeze your way out of this.

the patrol car followed, lights still flashing, slowing behind you.

shit. shit. shit.

you threw the car in park and just sat there, staring straight ahead, pulse thudding against your ribs.

jail. you were going to jail.

you could already see it—cuffed, booked, mugshot plastered on the internet for your future jobs to see. your parents finding out. your friends talking about it. the shame of someone having to bail you out.

or worse—what if this was federal? what if they threw you in some maximum-security prison with killers and mob bosses? what if you had to join a gang just to survive?

you’d have to get a prison tattoo. maybe you could fake a crazy act, go full method, start twitching and mumbling nonsense so no one would mess with you.

or maybe you’d just become someone’s lackey, fetching food and passing notes like a terrified little intern.

you flinched so hard at the knock on the window that your knee smacked the steering wheel. you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to turn your head.

oh my god..

oh… my god? (little silly reference)

you were still scared out of your damn mind, but your brain short-circuited for a second because the cop standing outside your window was… hot. like henry cavill in 2011 hot.

broad shoulders filling out his uniform, sleeves hugging thick arms, utility belt sitting low on his hips. sharp jaw, dark hair..

but this wasn’t the time. you were about to be thrown behind bars and possibly sentenced to a lifetime of crime and regret. you needed to focus.

your fingers wobble as you reach for the window controls. the glass rolled down slow, and the night air rushed in, almost refreshing against your burning face.

the officer leaned down just slightly, forearm resting against the door. he was close enough that you could catch the scent of his cologne—clean, mahogany teakwood or something.

“license and registration,” he says, voice deep and hoarse, maybe he’s had a long night, too.

you were still spiraling, still seeing your entire future flash before your eyes—courtrooms, orange jumpsuits, a terrifying cellmate named big burtha—when the officer’s voice cut through the panic.

“license and registration, maam.” this time, he sounded a little irritated by repeating simple directions.

your arms slowly reached for the glove compartment, nervously brushing over crumpled receipts and an old pack of gum before finally gripping the registration papers and your license.

your big wide petrified eyes glance up as you hand it over. he took it without a word, scanning your license before his green orbs focused on you.

“you been drinking?” his voice was almost condescending, not mean enough to speak up about but enough to make you feel some type of way.

you could lie. maybe you should lie. but your brain was still a mess, still convinced you were on the fast track to prison.

“no,” you said immediately, then winced. “i mean—yes. but not, like, drinking drinking.”

he just looked at you, fed up.

you swallowed hard. “i can spell my name right now if you want. i can say the alphabet backwards. actually, no, i can’t do that sober either. but i can walk in a straight line—probably. i think.”

his face didn’t shift, but the pause before he spoke felt pointed, like he was giving you just enough time to realize how stupid you sounded.

“not only were you swerving,” he put cruel emphasis on the word ‘swerving’, “but you were going fifteen miles per hour in a thirty-five. and then you took an illegal turn.”

you blinked.

“oh.”

he nodded, slow. “yeah.”

you licked your lips, mind scrambling for some kind of excuse, some kind of way out of this.

you stare your feet, dragging a hand down your face. “okay, well… at least i wasn’t speeding.”

his brow lifted slightly. “that’s not the win you think it is.” he huffed a short breath, something close to a laugh, but it wasn’t the good kind. “step out of the car.”

you pouted, shoulders slumping as you pushed the door open, and you unfortunately wobbled as you stepped onto the gravel, heels only debilitating you further.

“there you go,” he said, watching you. “wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, clearly already pissed hes dealing with some drunk college kid. “all right,” he said, hands settling on his belt. “walk in a straight line for me.”

the first step was fine. the second one, too. but by the third, your heel caught on a crack in the trail, and you stumbled, arms flailing for balance.

his hand shot out, steadying you with a firm grip on your arm. his palm was warm, fingers wrapping easily around your bicep, and for a second, all you could think of was humping the shit out of him.

“you think that was straight?”

“it felt straight.”

silence.

he pinched his nose bridge, like he regretted every decision that led him to this moment. “jesus christ.”

but then, with a shake of his head, he reached for his radio, muttering something into it before leveling you with a look.

“stay here,” he said, his tone firm. “do not move.”

you raised your hands in surrender. “wasn’t planning on it.”

he stared at you for a second longer, like he didn’t fully believe you, then turned and walked back to his patrol car.

you rocked back on your heels, looking around in boredom. okay. maybe this wasn’t the worst. he hadn’t arrested you yet. maybe if you played it cool, he’d just let you off with a warning.

he was back before you could finish the thought, a small device in his hand.

“alright,” he said, stopping in front of you. “breathalyzer. deep breath in, then blow until i say stop.”

“you ready to blow?”

without thinking, you smirked. “yeah, you.”

silence once more.

then, very slowly, he closed his eyes, breathed out, and grunted something under his breath that you were pretty sure was a prayer for strength.

but fortunately, the gods were on your side tonight. and thats exactly how you ended up in the back of this officers cop car, bobbing your empty little head on his thick cock.

officer fushiguro, thats what he told you his name was. officer 1231. his big hands guide you up and down, groaning as you suck the dignity out of him.

he hesitantly pulls out of your mouth, slapping his angry pink tip on your cheek before sliding his girth all around your soaked lips.

your lashes were just as wet, pushed up into dark clumpy spikes from all the gagging.

you eagerly take him back into your mouth, the serpent that was your tongue wrapping around him so sweetly it nearly milks the man dry.

precum leaks from him slowly, your tongue salty and even slippery than before. his eyes fluttered shut, almost embarrassed by how good you’re sucking him off and how good its making him feel.

he pushes your head down further, giggle-inducing pubic hair tickling your nose, drawling one right out of you.

the vibration of it had him seeing stars, his bottom lip swollen from the press of his front teeth.

“mmmhm, keep sucking that dick, pretty, just like that...” he chokes out, rubbing the top of your head, just staring down at your working mouth with so much awe.

your eyes open and trail up, his green iris hyper-focused on your lips. you kiss and lap at the tip of his now painfully sensitive dick, and he spits out a bunch of nonsense before tapping the bottom of your chin, signaling for you to pick your head up.

instead of doing as the desperate action told you to, you only bury your head further, gagging and slobbering all over him.

you pick up your pace, taking your hand and stroking the few inches that you couldn’t manage to stuff down your throat with an excited glint in your eye.

he lets out a low whine, hes not proud of it, but holy fuck were you sucking him like a pro.

his breathing is labored, and he gives you a few sloppy strokes and stuttering thrust, blowing his load and emptying all the cum from his balls right down your throat.

“f..fuck,” he moans, his cock twitching inside your now white-painted throat, pulling out and smearing his sticky tip on your lips.

he couldn’t believe how good you were at giving him something you so clearly lacked.

he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and chuckles at the absurdity of it all, with a few light slaps to the cheek as a ‘good job’, he sighs heavily.

you swallow it all, lolling out your tongue to prove to him not even an atom of his nut was wasted.

you slurp up the cum that slipped down to his balls, your soft lips suckling his sensitive sack.

his entire body felt like it was weightless, his mind reeling with all different types of sensations.

reluctantly pulling up his boxers, he kisses your forehead tenderly, which is something you really shouldn’t do after a one night stand.

standing in the front of the kitchen table, you wiped a little wine off your chin (cuz of course you spilled it) and hoped to god he wouldn’t notice how heavily you were breathing for scurrying over there so fast.

the moment toji stepped inside, his tired eyes scanning the room, and you shot him a big, cheesy grin that could’ve lit up the city.

he blinked at you for a second, as if trying to understand why the kitchen was suddenly so bright and colorful and why you were so loud after coming back from a mission.

“this… for me?” he ask, tilting his head slightly. you grinned, nodding. “yep. happy birthday.”

he let out a quiet exhale, still standing by the door, looking around. there was a faint twitch in the corner of his mouth—half a smile, maybe.

“so, you did all this?” he almost sounded like he didn’t believe it. “yeah,” you said, shrugging. “i know it’s not your thing, but… i wanted to do something for you.”

his eyes softened, just a little, and he stepped further into the room. he didn’t say anything at first, just took in the sight of it all.

“you didn’t have to do all this, baby— but thank you,” he mutters, dryly chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

it wasn’t a big speech, no huge declarations. just his subtle way of saying that, yeah, maybe this was a little more than he expected, but it did mean something to him.

you couldn’t help but smile, a little more giddy now. “well, you’re worth it.”

“you’re crazy,” he said, but there was no annoyance in it—just unapologetic affection, the way he always softened when he was caught off guard by something big like this.

you moved toward him, your voice sweet and warm as you sway your hips, and its enough to make the grown man weak in the knees. “you’re welcome, you know.”

he finally let the smile slip out completely, his scar stretching and his smile lines presenting themselves in such a beautiful way. “mhm.”

his eyes flicked down to your lips, and before you could react, he was kissing you—slow yet incredibly overwhelming, his lips finding every part of yours.

his hands massages your waist, and with that, he shifted from massaging to tugging, pulling you flush against him. your body melted into his, every inch of you pressing against him, the hardness of his chest against yours making your core feel infuriatingly empty.

you moaned softly, the sound caught in the back of your throat as your legs wrapped instinctively around him, pulling him closer.

he lifted you effortlessly, his hands shifting to your thighs, your body molding into his like you were meant to be stuck on him—white on rice.

the kiss continued, and you lost yourself in the taste of him, the way his tongue slid against yours, exploring with urgency.

your hips pressed against him, the heat between your legs growing as the friction increased in pressure.

his hands slid down your back, the feeling of his cold, rough fingers trailing over your skin making you feel high on him.

he moved with purpose, backing you toward the counter, his lips continuing with movement.

“oh, shit..” you gasped when the cake wobbled, your hand reaching back to steady it just in time.

you leaned into him harder, letting out a soft, desperate groan as you rolled your hips against his.

your entrance clenched around nothing, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips— you needed more.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, despite the rush of heat still pulsing through you.

“well, do you want your cake?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice was still breathless from where his lips had left their mark. “spent a lot of time on it, y’know.”

toji’s eyes rest on your clothed core for a second, shameless and intrigued.

his lips curl into a smirk, his tone clearly depicting how dazed he was. “mm, mm. wanna eat somethin’ else.”

your stomach flutters, a surprised laugh slipping from you. “what?” you ask, not quite believing what you’re hearing. “does it look nasty? cause i actually worked hard on that and that’s just rude.”

he face falls a little, clearly thrown off from the sudden attitude, and he shakes his head— a little confused because you just shifted the energy. “no.. i wanna eat this pussy, baby.”

you freeze for a second, your eyes wide as your breath hitches in your chest, a little embarrassed that you had gotten so defensive when he was clearly trying to smooth talk to you.

you exhale shakily, gulping a little. he was always so bold, it made you feel a lot less confident and a whole lot more nervous. “like.. like right now?”

toji nods his head condescendingly, his eyebrows furrowing from your question that obviously had an answer.

“yeah.. like right now,” he laughs. he steps back just enough to kneel in front of you. those pretty green eyes stare up at you, basically pleading for your pussy.

“toji,” you whisper, but he doesn’t respond. his hands slide under your hips scooting you closer to his lips, positioning you as he leans in.

he hooks his fingers under the fabric of your shorts before impatiently sliding them down your legs. his pupils grew, staring at the mess he’s made of your underwear and whats inbetween your thighs—and slowly but surely, he placed a kiss right where you needed him most.

your back arched instinctively, a loud gasp escaping your lips as his mouth worked against you with brain-melting precision. you let out a small, choked moan, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself from slipping off.

finally, he removed the last layer of what separated your pussy from his mouth, your panties. the coldness of the counter shocked you, but the warmth of his mouth had quickly replaced any discomfort you felt.

his tongue traces a slow, deliberate path from your entrance to your clit, and you feel like the world has started to spin faster than it ever has. his stubble scratched against the sensitive skin of your thighs as his tongue moved in slow, languid circles.

your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, one settling against the counter and the other tangling in his dark hair. the strands were thick and coarse between your fingers, and toji damn near winced at how tight you were pulling.

“mm.. still so sensitive,” he muttered against you, the vibration of his voice teasing your clit in ways that had your hips bucking up into his nose. your thighs instinctively squeezed around his head, and his breathing gets heavier to avoid being strangled to death.

his tongue pressed against you with more pressure now, flicking and swirling, the type that made your toes curl and your body hot.

your fingers tugged harder at his hair, and you twisted under his hold, gasping, panting, crying out his name in soft, broken bursts.

“toji—please—oh my god—” the words tumbled out of you in a breathless rush, your voice high-pitched and shaky as your eyes hit the back of your skull.

“you’re doing so well, baby,” he praised, the words almost making you come all over his face. “just let go for me.”

“please,” you rasped, your chest rising and falling unevenly. “i… i can’t—” your legs twitched, and so did your cunt.

you squeezed your eyes shut, and you could feel yourself getting closer. in a desperate attempt to get your clit rubbing against something, you sloppily pushed up against his nose.

“shhh,” he cooed, but there was no sympathy in it. “you can handle it.”

“don’t stop,” you sobbed, the words barely forming in your head. “please, don’t stop…” you barely realized how needy you sounded, how much your body was basically bargaining with him.

“shh, shh. you’re taking it so well,” he said, though it was very evident that you were in fact not taking this so well.

you mewled, your voice barely a whisper, “toji, i—i—”

and then it hit, your mind was now a blur of white hot pleasure, and you gripped onto him harder, nails digging into his poor hair as you struggled to breathe through it.

you squeaked, your body jerking as you squirt, warmth spilling all over his face. it made your vision foggy, and your legs damn near lock up from how much you tense.

with a final, satisfied grunt, he pulled back, his hands patting your thigh as he stood tall, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

you managed a weak smile, trying to catch your breath, and in a voice that cracked with exhaustion— you mustered up some energy to say.. “happy—mm—birthday…”

he nodded as he looked down at you, your disheveled form still perched on the counter.

“thanks, baby.”

his voice broke the silence, and you almost flinched. “the shop open?” he asked, his tone casual.

you shook your head without thinking, but the unease in your stomach didn’t go away. "no, we closed an hour ago."

you weren’t ready to deal with this. he’s a stranger, and you're just a girl trying to get through the night shift without getting murdered.

you tried not to act weird, trying to stay composed.

he was still staring at you. why? “you alright?” he asked.

you couldn’t answer right away, still too caught up in your own head, too aware of how close he was getting.

you brushed your hair out of your face, trying to act casual, even though your heart was still hammering in your chest.

"yeah," you said, clearing your throat. "you scared the shit out of me," you added with a nervous laugh, hoping the tension would break.

your hands shook as you shoved the trash into the bin, glancing over your shoulder, careful not to turn your back on him completely.

but then it happened. you could've sworn he was a few feet closer than he had been a second ago—no noise, no movement, just a subtle shift in the space between you two.

you swallowed hard and forced yourself to turn back to face fushiguro, looking up at him. 

"i.. uh, i was going back into the shop anyway," you said quickly, almost too quickly, trying to fill the silence that had stretched between you both. "if y--you really want a drink, i can make it real quick."

god, you sounded so much more confident than you felt.

your legs still shook from the fear, the adrenaline making your body tremble. and yet, there was something else creeping in—a warmth, a pull, a part of you that couldn’t look away from him, despite everything.

the way his hair was mussed, the scar running along the edge of his lip, the muscles that bulged from his arms as he folded them casually across his chest. everything about him was intimidating, yet so fucking captivating.

his eyes never left yours. every time you caught it, your heart skipped a beat. damn it. why did he have to be so sexy?

you felt like you were caught between two opposing forces—your fear of the unknown and your undeniable attraction to him.

everything about him screamed danger, but there was also something magnetic about the way he stood there, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered right now.

you shuddered, feeling a wave of heat spread through you, but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or something else entirely.

fushiguro’s smile is slow and knowing, and when he speaks, his voice is smooth but somehow sharp at the same time.

“you’re so generous,” he says, his eyes trailing down your frame. it makes your stomach flip and your chest tighten. “lead the way. i’ll be right behind you.”

you nod, nervous, and quickly lock the trash bin, your hands fumbling slightly as you try to stick the key back in.

your stomach churns once again, a tight knot forming in the pit of it as you begin walking toward the shop.

it’s just the two of you—no cars, no voices.

you feel his eyes go over you again, and then, you hear it—a low snicker, an exhale through his nose. you swallow, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach. 

he lets the silence stretch a little longer before breaking it, his voice casual. “why are you alone at this time of night?”

an uncomfortable chill runs down your spine. what is he insinuating?you glance at him, trying to remain calm despite the internal panic building in your chest. 

why is he asking that? his words carry an edge to them, something unspoken!

“uh,” you start, trying to make your voice sound steady. you look away, side-eyeing him as you take a few more steps toward the entrance.

“just… closing up. not much to do once the rush is over.” you force a smile, but it feels like a mask.

you try to keep the small talk going, even though your mind is racing. “it’s pretty quiet, though. not too many people around at this time.”

his eyes narrow slightly, and there's that knowing smirk again.

you can’t tell if he’s playing with you or if he genuinely finds something funny about the situation, but you don’t want to stick around to figure it out.

“yeah," he mutters. "must get kind of lonely.”

stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. your thoughts are frantic as you pull the door open, hoping the conversation will just end.

you step inside the shop, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

you turn to him, the harsh lighting accentuates every part of his face. the stubble that darkens his chin, the bright green that is his eyes.

but what really catches your attention is the blood. it's on his hands, streaking across his knuckles. he scratches his chin as if it’s nothing. "i'll have a coffee," he says, "i’ll be up all night."

you laugh, a little too hard, to ease the tension. “yeah, sure, i can do that. the only size that’s not put away is a medium. is that alright with you?”

"it's all right," he says, his voice steady, unaffected.

you nod, grateful for the ease in his response, even though your stomach churns with nerves. “just a few minutes.”

you walk away to start the coffee, but you can feel his eyes on you, even when you’re focused on the machine.

it takes longer than usual, the minutes dragging as you try to stay calm. your mind keeps racing—did he hurt someone? what’s going on with all the blood on his hands?—but you push those thoughts away as best you can.

after several minutes, you return with his coffee. he takes it with a grunt that almost makes your knees weak.

the way he sounds when he does that… it's approval, rough and raw. he takes the cup and mutters, “might be short again.”

you bite your lip, trying to fight the flush creeping up your neck, your cunts entrance pulsating slightly at the sound of his voice.

you bat your lashes, hoping you’re hiding how shaken you feel. “it’s on the house. you’re the nicest customer i’ve had in a while.”

he just grins, sipping from the cup, and you can’t help but lean against the counter a little, still feeling that attraction for him.

you feel the need to fill the quiet, even though your thoughts are jumbled.

“so, what’s got you out so late, all alone? where’s your son?” you ask, your voice softer now. he shrugs. “at home. probably asleep.”

you nod, digesting his words, but then something pushes you to ask again. “what about your… girlfriend? or wife?”

he chuckles, dry and without much humor. “nah, don’t have one of those.” single dad. 

something stirs inside you—curiosity, maybe something more. the thought makes your pulse race, and you can’t help but feel a little excited. he’s single?

you try to hide the smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but it’s hard. his eyes are on you, and not just regularly.

he's looking, really looking, unapologetically letting his eyes rest on the curves of your breast, though you're fully dressed.

it feels almost purposeful, the way he licks his lips, his head tilting slightly as if he’s savoring what he sees.

you feel your cheeks flush, but you try not to squirm under his scrutiny. “what about you?” he asks, his tone dripping with something that feels too intimate for a simple question.

“got a boyfriend that'll drive you home after this? make sure you’re safe?” you shake your head, feeling the heat rise up your neck as you offer him a small, shy smile.

“no, no boyfriend,” you manage to say, your voice comes out softer than you intended.

his eyes darken just a bit, and he hums, the sound vibrating low in his chest. “mm,” he says, taking another slow sip of his coffee.

“should probably get a friend or somethin’ to walk you to your car at night. not safe out there for someone like you.”

the way he says it, almost like a warning, makes you feel younger than you are. someone like you. what does that even mean? vulnerable? gullible?

you’re so turned on, it’s embarrassing.

he’s barely doing anything, and yet you're smitten, your legs feeling like jelly from just the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice curls around his words.

you clear your throat, trying to focus, trying to remind yourself that he can be just as dangerous as the next guy.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” you say, attempting to sound unbothered, but it’s hard to keep the edge of desire out of your tone.

he doesn’t respond right away, just leans back slightly, studying you like you’re something he’s trying to figure out.

there’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips, and you can’t help but feel like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

you glance down briefly, pretending to adjust your apron, before looking back up at him through your lashes, giving him your best wide-eyed, innocent look.

“would you… maybe want to walk me back to my car?” you ask, your voice sweet with just a hint of playfulness. “y’know, for extra protection?”

he lets out a low laugh, leaning forward just enough to make your panties wet.

“protection, huh?” he echoes, his tone heavy with suggestion. “you someone who likes protection?”

the innuendo hits you square in the chest, and you force yourself to play it cool, crossing your arms over your stomach and trying to look unbothered, almost mirroring him.

“not all the time,” you quip, tilting your chin up in mock confidence. “but sometimes, it’s important to be safe.”

he shakes his head slightly, clearly amused by your flustered attempt to keep up.

“fair enough,” he says, pushing off the counter and straightening to his full height.

“sure, i’ll walk you. my son’d be pretty heartbroken if his favorite barista went missing.”

you smile at that, trying to hide how giddy the comment makes you feel. “oh? what's the cuties name?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“megumi,” he says simply, and there’s a moment of something softer in his expression as he says it.

you can’t help but smile wider. “that’s such a cute name,” you say, and you mean it.

he nods in acknowledgment, finishing his coffee in one long gulp before tossing the cup into the trash can.

you find yourself watching him again, soaking in every detail—his broad shoulders, the way his long fingers flex when he stretches his hand.

you feel so stupid, falling for a man you barely know, but shoot, he was fine as hell. something about him felt dangerous, but not in a way that made you want to avoid him.

it made you want to stay, to lean in closer, to get caught up in whatever game he was playing. you had no reason to trust him, not really. but the way he carried himself, so calm, so quiet—it didn’t scream “murderer.”

and honestly, at this point, you figured, fuck it. you weren’t about to let this opportunity slip away.

“ready?” he asks, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

you nod quickly, grabbing your bag. “yeah,” you say, trying to sound normal. “thanks for this. really.”

he shrugs, already heading toward the door. “don’t mention it.”

as he holds the door open for you, you glance up at him one last time, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again.

yeah, this was probably a bad idea. but as you stepped into the night with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

you fall into step beside him, his presence impossibly steady against the silence of the parking lot.

the faint scent of something woodsy—cologne mixed with the lingering grit of sweat—wafts from him, and it makes your head spin a little.

you click your car key, the headlights flashing and cutting through the dim lot. the two of you move closer to the car, his strides long, yours jittery with anticipation you can’t quite hide.

when you reach the car, you instinctively move toward the driver’s seat, but he steps in front of you, opening the passenger door instead.

“get in,” he says simply, his voice almostttt.. demanding?

you blink at him, confused, one hand still gripping the strap of your bag. “what—?”

“i’ll drive,” he interrupts, leaning against the open door. his gaze pins you in place. “s’no big deal. you’ve had a long day at work. just tell me where to go.”

you almost protest, almost remind him that you don’t even know him like that, but the exhaustion in your legs and the soft command in his tone make it hard to argue.

“alright,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice wavers just a bit.

you slide into the passenger seat, sinking into the leather and clutching your bag close as he closes the door behind you.

he rounds the car before slipping into the driver’s seat. the space feels smaller instantly, his broad frame filling it completely.

he adjusts the seat back, muttering something under his breath about "tight spaces," and when he grabs the key from your hand, his fingers graze yours—just barely, but enough to make you shiver.

he starts the car with one hand, the other resting lazily on the wheel. as he pulls out of the lot, you begin giving him directions, your voice quieter than usual.

your friends would kill you if they found out about this. letting some random—albeit sexy—man drive your car, learn your route, know where you live.

every true crime podcast you’d ever listened to screamed at you to think twice. but the smooth, easy way he talked made it so easy to just let go.

you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your eyes tracing the veins running along his forearms, the grip of his fingers on the wheel.

he’s driving with one hand, so relaxed it almost irritates you. how could he look this good while doing something so simple?

your eyes trail lower-- the crotch part of his pants, and the way hes sitting.. you can see what you're working with. you swear you can feel the ache between your legs sharpen.

it’s almost unbearable, how badly you want him. the tension has you shifting in your seat, your thighs pressing together in a poor attempt at relief.

you exhale slowly, trying to compose yourself, and turn your head to look out the window, hoping the cool night air will calm you down.

but it doesn’t. it only sharpens the contrast between the heat building inside you and the impossibility of acting on it.

you need him. badly. and you hate how obvious it’s becoming, even to yourself.

the low hum of the car engine filled the space as fushiguro drove, his large hand resting on the wheel while the other lazily tapped against his thigh. t

he silence between you was thick—comfortable, almost—but every so often, you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him.

then, his phone buzzed against the cup holder, and he sighed heavily before picking it up. “yeah?”

you couldn’t make out much of the other voice, but it was small and muffled, almost childlike.

his expression softened, but only for a split second, before he groaned in irritation and leaned back in the seat. “alright, alright. i’ll be home soon, okay, kid?”

he hung up abruptly, tossing the phone back down with a frustrated exhale.

“everything okay?” you asked, your voice cautious but curious.

he snorted, shaking his head as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “megumi. kid’s got a field trip or somethin’, and he needs me to sign the damn form. tells me last fuckin’ minute, too, right before his bedtime.”

you couldn’t help but smile a little at the image of him dealing with a kid at home. “sounds like a handful.”

“tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing over at you.

“but i'll be dropping you off first, don't want you to feel all scared being alone. i shouldn't even go home, teach 'em a lesson about being lazy.”

“are you sure?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “it sounds kinda important.”

he shrugged. “yeah, well, i’m used to his chaos. wouldn’t be the first time he’s pulled this 'last minute' bullshit.”

“i mean,” you hesitated, biting your lip, “if you really need to go handle it, i don’t mind. i’m not in a rush or anything.”

he gave you a sideways glance, one brow quirking. “you sure?”

you nodded, feeling a little proud of your offer. “yeah. i don’t mind waiting a few minutes. it’s not like i have anything pressing to do.”

he let out a deep sigh, “alright, but i’ll be quick. don’t want you thinkin’ i’m some deadbeat dad.”

with that, he turned the car around, the motion smooth and practiced, and began heading in the opposite direction.

the drive stretched out longer than you expected, each passing streetlight casting flickering shadows over his face.

you tried to ignore the way your heart raced every time his arm shifted or his fingers tightened around the wheel.

when you finally pulled up in front of his house, he didn’t move right away.

the car idled in the driveway, the soft glow of the porch light illuminating the front door. you glanced over at him, waiting for him to step out, but instead, you heard the distinct click of the car doors locking.

your stomach flipped.

he turned to you slowly, his gaze dark and intense. his eyes roamed over you—hungrily, unapologetically—and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

you shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling very small under the weight of his stare. it was almost unbearable, the way his attention lingered, and a soft, involuntary noise escaped your throat before you could stop it.

“somethin’ the matter?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

he leaned back in his seat, his smirk deepening. “i could ask you the same thing. caught you starin’ at me.”

your eyes widened. “i wasn’t—”

“don’t lie to me, girl,” he interrupted. “you were lookin’. i saw it.”

heat rushed to your cheeks just like before, and you let out a nervous laugh, trying to play it off. “okay, maybe i was. but can you blame me?”

his coy smirk became more pronounced, and he tilted his head, studying you like you were something to be devoured. “nah,” he said, his voice lowering an octave. “don’t blame you one bit.”

you swallowed hard, your throat was dry, but what resided between your thighs was more than wet. “aren’t you gonna go upstairs to megumi? he probably misses his dad.”

he shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “he’ll be fine. kid’s used to me comin’ and goin’.”

your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anticipation—or both. everything about this moment felt like a dangerous game, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

──────

his tone was blunt, almost too straightforward, but there wasn’t any malice in it. he sounded more matter-of-fact than anything, like he was making an observation.

your lips twitched, caught somewhere between wanting to glare at him and just letting out a tired laugh. “thanks for the tip,” you muttered, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand.

fushiguro exhaled through his nose. "just sayin’. the world keeps spinning whether you're mad at it or not."

you frowned, your hand still hovering near your face as you looked up at him. "so i’m supposed to just bottle it all up?"

he shrugged, his broad shoulders lifting. “nah. just sayin’ you’re gonna wear yourself out if you keep stressin’ over dumb shit.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how straightforward he was. "it’s not dumb to me," you said quietly, your voice wavering slightly.

toji tilted his head slightly, his expression softening, though only a fraction.

"fair enough," he muttered. “but you’re outta there now, aren’t ya? clocked out, on your way home. seems like a good time to let it go.”

his words lingered in the air, and you weren’t sure if you found them comforting or just frustrating.

he wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t like you could just flip a switch and feel better.

“easier said than done,” you mumbled, twisting a curl around your finger again.

he noticed the nervous gesture, his gaze dropping to your hands for a moment before he straightened up.

“maybe. but what’s the alternative? sittin’ out here sulkin’ like the world owes you somethin’? doesn’t sound like a great plan.”

you let out a laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “you really don’t sugarcoat things, do you?”

“waste of time,” he replied simply, crossing his arms over his chest. “but hey, looks like it got you to stop cryin’, so i’ll take that as a win.”

you sniffled, wiping at your nose again and letting out a shaky breath. "guess i should thank you, then."

“nah.” he waved a hand dismissively, his tone still casual. “just don’t let the next asshole customer get to you so much.”

fushiguro watched you for a second longer, his sharp gaze softer now, though still unreadable.

he flicked the cigarette to the pavement and crushed it under his shoe, the faint crackle of ash breaking the quiet.

“you got someone pickin’ you up, or you drivin’ yourself?” he asked, leaning slightly against his car again.

“i drove,” you replied, tucking your knees up slightly as you sat on the curb. “just... needed a minute before heading out."

“yeah, figured,” he said bluntly. “you look like you needed one.”

you winced, heat rising to your cheeks. “that obvious, huh?”

he shrugged. “you didn’t exactly hide it well. mascara’s still runnin’, by the way.”

your hand flew to your face, mortified, as you quickly tried to wipe at the smudges under your eyes. “shit.. is it bad?"

fushiguro let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and almost lazy. “you’ll live. no one’s lookin’ that close.”

“you noticed,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“yeah, well, i’m observant,” he said with a smirk, the faintest hint of teasing in his tone. “not my fault you’re out here cryin’ like you got fired from the place."

you huffed, crossing your arms. “it’s just been a lot today.”

“uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “still look like you need a nap or somethin’. maybe a drink.”

you raised an eyebrow at him. “what, like a coffee?”

“no, like somethin’ stronger,” he said with a smirk. “but maybe coffee’s more your speed.”

you rolled your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “thanks for the vote of confidence.”

he chuckled again, his hands sliding into his pockets as he shifted his weight slightly. “look, kid—”

“i’m not a kid,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended.

his smirk widened slightly, amused by your reaction. “sure, sure. whatever you say.”

you glared at him, but it didn’t hold much weight. you were too drained to argue, and honestly, his nonchalant attitude was doing more to distract you from your shitty day than anything else had.

“you gonna sit out here all night, or are you gonna go home?” he asked, his tone casual again.

“probably not all night,” you muttered. “just... needed a second to decompress, i guess.”

“well, don’t sit too long,” he said, pushing off the car and straightening up. “someone might think you’re stranded or somethin’.”

you snorted. “doubt anyone would stop to help.”

“maybe not,” he said with a shrug. “but you never know.”

there was a beat of silence, the weight of the day still lingering, though it felt lighter.

fushiguro glanced at you one last time before turning toward his car.

“get home safe,” he said over his shoulder, his voice still low and gruff but not unkind.

you watched as he walked away, his broad frame disappearing into the car. the engine rumbled to life, and he pulled out of the lot, leaving you alone again.

but somehow, you didn’t feel as heavy anymore. it was like he’d managed to pull you out of the spiral you’d been stuck in, even if only for a little while.

with a deep breath, you stood up, brushing off your skirt and wiping the last traces of mascara from your cheeks. it wasn’t the best day, but at least it was over.

the night air wrapped around you like a cool blanket as you started walking down the sidewalk, your steps slow and aimless.

the sound of cars humming in the distance and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead kept you company as you tried to shake off the heaviness of the day.

you tucked your hands into your pockets, your fingers brushing against a crumpled receipt and some loose change.

the rhythmic click of your shoes against the pavement echoed faintly as you wandered, not even paying attention to where you were going.

the block was mostly quiet, with the occasional passerby or flicker of a porch light cutting through the stillness.

the smell of someone’s late-night dinner wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of damp earth from a sprinkler soaking a patch of grass nearby.

you rounded another corner, glancing up at the faintly glowing neon sign of a convenience store.

for a second, you considered going in, maybe grabbing a snack or something to drink, but the thought of interacting with anyone else made your stomach churn. not tonight.

the slow walk did little to ease your tension, but at least it was giving you a chance to breathe. the ache in your feet reminded you just how long you'd been on them today, and the dull throb behind your eyes hinted at the headache that was only just starting to bloom.

finally, you circled back to the parking lot where your car sat waiting under the dim glow of a streetlight. it looked lonelier than you remembered, and for a moment, so did you.

you approached it slowly, the clinking of your keys in your hand feeling unusually loud in the stillness.

when you reached the driver’s side door, you paused for a moment, leaning against the cool metal and staring up at the sky.

there weren’t many stars visible, but the faint glimmer of a few still managed to peek through.

with a sigh, you unlocked the door and slid into the seat. the car smelled faintly of coffee—probably from your work apron tossed carelessly in the back seat—and the dashboard lights blinked to life as you turned the key in the ignition.

the low hum of the engine filled the space as you buckled your seatbelt and adjusted the rearview mirror.

you pulled out of the lot slowly, the crunch of gravel under your tires giving way to the smooth hum of asphalt as you merged onto the main road.

you fiddled with the radio, but nothing seemed right, so you let the static play softly in the background, filling the silence just enough to keep you grounded.

the drive home felt longer than usual, each red light stretching into an eternity. the fatigue in your body weighed heavy on your chest, making it hard to focus.

when you finally pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, relief washed over you. the sight of your building, though plain and unremarkable, felt like a beacon of safety after the chaos of the day.

you stepped out of the car and locked it behind you, your keys jingling in your hand as you made your way to the front door. the night was quiet, but the silence made you uneasy.

your fingers fumbled with the lock for a moment, the faint creak of the door swinging open echoing in the stillness.

the hallway was dark, the kind of dark that made your skin prickle as you hurried inside, shutting the door firmly behind you.

your apartment was no better—dim and eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator.

you kicked off your shoes and headed to your bedroom, each creak of the wooden steps making your heart jump just a little.

when you reached the top, your gaze swept over the mess you’d left behind in the morning: clothes scattered on the floor, an unmade bed, and an empty mug sitting precariously on the edge of your desk.

before you could even sigh, a soft meow broke the silence. your cat padded into the room, tail high and eyes gleaming as it greeted you with another quiet chirp.

“hey, buddy,” you murmured, crouching down to scratch behind its ears. “sorry i’m late.”

the cat purred, leaning into your touch, and for a moment, the tension in your shoulders eased. you pressed a quick kiss to the top of its head before standing and walking to the couch.

collapsing onto the cushions, you let out a long, heavy sigh, your head tipping back as you stared up at the ceiling.

everything felt too much—the exhaustion, the stress, the lingering embarrassment from earlier. your chest felt tight, and your mind wouldn’t stop racing, replaying every irritating, humiliating moment of the day.

you closed your eyes, your hand absently brushing past your chest. the day had drained you completely, and all you wanted was to feel some kind of release, anything to ease the weight pressing down on you.

sinking deeper into the couch, your thoughts began to wander.

at first, it was harmless—just a flicker of his face in your mind. the sharp line of his jaw, the scar on his lip.

you bit your lip without realizing it, the memory of his voice echoing in your head.

the way he spoke to you, low and rough, almost teasing.

his eyes—dark, piercing, and unyielding—had been on you more than once! your cheeks flushed, warmth spreading through your chest as the thought of him grew more vivid.

you shifted slightly, your hands brushing against your thighs.

it wasn’t intentional, at least not at first, but the way his presence had made you feel earlier—intimidated, nervous, and yet… drawn to him—was impossible to ignore.

the memory of his smirk crept into your mind, and before you knew it, your hand was trailing down your body, fingers grazing the edge of your lower stomach, fingers daring to slip past your panties.

your breathing hitched, the heat in your face spreading further as you begin to massage the oh so horrible ache between your legs.

but then, it hit you.

your eyes flew open, and your hand froze. what the hell were you doing?

you sat up abruptly, your heart pounding as shame flooded through you. you couldn’t believe it. you had just began about to touch yourself—over a complete stranger.

a stranger with a son, no less.

you pressed your hands to your face, groaning softly into your palms. "what is wrong with me?" you muttered, your voice muffled and thick with embarrassment.

your legs curled up onto the couch as you hugged your knees to your chest, trying to shake off the lingering feeling. you felt gross. perverted. desperate, even.

but you also felt… needy.

it was an uncomfortable mix of emotions, and no amount of scolding yourself could make it go away.

you sat there, staring at the darkened room around you, wishing you could just erase the last few minutes from your mind.

and yet, no matter how hard you tried, his face wouldn’t leave your thoughts.

you grabbed your phone from the table beside the couch, your fingers feeling clumsy as you unlocked the screen.

anything to distract yourself from the mess of thoughts swirling in your head.

you didn’t want to feel like this—didn’t want to think about him—but no matter how hard you tried, his face was there, etched into your mind like an imprint you couldn’t wash away.

with a sigh, you scrolled through your messages, trying to zone out, but the notifications only reminded you of the work you still had to deal with. a text from your manager, a reminder to keep up with inventory.

a few unread group chats filled with messages about plans you didn’t feel like participating in. you ignored them all, your eyes skimming over the words with little interest.

the thought of tomorrow's shift made your stomach turn. the monotony, the stress, the customers, the mess—it was all going to be the same. maybe even worse.

after today, you were sure the universe had a twisted sense of humor. there was no way you were getting through the next shift without some disaster happening, like another spilled drink or rude customers that just wouldn't let up.

you groaned softly and tossed the phone aside, feeling it buzz quietly as a new message came through. you didn’t even look at it. instead, you leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as your mind wandered again.

you rubbed your face again, cursing under your breath. you couldn't believe how stupid you were. letting a guy like him get under your skin like this.

with another sigh, you pulled a throw blanket around yourself and curled into the couch, willing your mind to finally quiet down.

and you guessed time was moving quicker during the night and slower during the day, because you were right back at work.

it didn’t feel like it had been more than a few hours since you’d collapsed on your couch in a heap of exhaustion and frustration, but here you were, staring at the clock as the minutes dragged by, a fresh wave of tiredness settling into your bones.

tonight, you were closing. another long shift, another grueling night of serving customers who didn’t seem to care that you were a human being, too.

you handed out drinks, chatted with the regulars, even made small talk with a couple of people who’d somehow found your corner of the world. but all the while, your mind kept wandering—to him.

you didn’t want to think about him, but you couldn’t help it. you almost caught yourself wishing, for a brief moment, that fushiguro would just walk back in through that door.

that he’d take one look at you and drag you behind the counter, rough and unrelenting, just to release some of the frustration that had been building inside of you.

you shook your head at the thought, fighting off the heat that crept up your neck, trying to focus on the customer in front of you, but it was hard to block it out. he was a no show, though. no sign of him. not even a glimpse.

it was only the evening, and already you were counting down the hours, just trying to survive the shift. but every moment without him felt somehow emptier.

and hours went on, minutes flew by, and seconds drifted. before you knew it, the sun had set and it was damn near pitch-black outside.

the night shift was always the worst. everything was too quiet.

too still. no one ever came in this late, and even the hum of the refrigerators seemed to stop, leaving nothing but the faint echo of your own movements. you hated it.

you scrubbed the counters with more force than necessary, trying to get everything done as quickly as possible, wishing for the night to end.

you dragged yourself to the back, where the overflowing trash was waiting to be taken out. the bag was heavy, awkward, and as you tried to lift it, you cursed under your breath. 

i need to hit the gym!

you walked toward the back door, the parking lot empty except for the flickering streetlight in the distance. 

you trudged across the lot, every step felt like it echoing in the silence.

when you reached the trash bin, you pulled the keys from your apron, holding them a little too tightly, like a knife. just in case. 

you didn’t even know why, but something about this place at night made you feel exposed, vulnerable.

you squinted into the shadows, feeling like someone—or something—was always watching.

you told yourself it was stupid, that you were being paranoid, but you couldn’t shake it. you’d watched enough true crime to know how this could end.

you tried not to fidget, but your body wouldn’t stop moving.

you bounced on your toes, jumping up and down a little to ease the tension, your heart beating faster with every second you spent standing there. just unlock the damn bin. 

you were so close to throwing the trash away, but your body was rigid with fear. don’t get murdered. don’t get murdered.

you looked over your shoulder, your eyes darting to the empty lot behind you, half-expecting someone to jump out from the shadows.

nothing there, there's nothing there. but the feeling didn’t go away.

the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, your chest tight as you finally managed to get the keys in the lock, twisting it quickly.

you stood on your tiptoes, trying to throw the bag into the trash bin, but your arms weren’t long enough to get it high enough.

just get it in the trash and get back inside.

and then, you heard it. footsteps.

you froze, your breath catching in your throat. oh god, oh god. your heart stopped. someone’s here.

you turned, ready to bolt back inside, but then you saw it. the shadow.

it was tall, looming, and it was moving closer to you. you swallowed hard, a whimper escaping your throat as you tensed, prepared to run. but then the shadow stepped into the light, and you froze, your blood running cold.

it was him

fushiguro.

────────────────

this is a very special message to @lavenderdaydream97 heyy so i have zero idea how to make a tags list so this is the best i can do until your girl figures it out🥲! i hope u enjoy

now, you're stuck behind the counter, plastering on forced smiles and handing out sugary drinks when you’d rather be anywhere but here.

this was supposed to be your first real summer as an adult, and yet here you are, playing the role of the overworked barista.

to make matters worse, you were stuck with the dreaded opening shift this morning.

your alarm screeched to life, cutting through the silence of your room, which was once a peaceful haven filled with nothing but your steady breathing and the occasional toss and turn.

after a series of groans, half-hearted swats at the snooze button, and more than a few exasperated mutterings, you finally summoned the willpower to drag yourself out of bed.

you stumbled into the bathroom, still half asleep, blinking at your reflection like it was a stranger.

your hair was a wild mess of tangles, and your eyes were heavy, the bags underneath dark enough to make you look like you’d been awake for days.

a quick splash of cold water did little to wake you up, but it was better than nothing. you couldn’t afford to be late—not again.

you threw on your uniform with the enthusiasm of a death row inmate picking out their last meal.

black polo, black apron, a skirt that was a little too short to be entirely comfortable but at least helped with the summer heat—your whole aesthetic screamed "lifeless corporate drone." the café’s logo, embroidered on your chest, felt like a scarlet letter branding you as a cog in the machine.

no time for breakfast, no time for makeup—you were running on fumes and whatever scraps of energy your sheer willpower could scrape together.

the commute was a blur, the kind where you couldn’t focus on a single song that played on the radio because your brain was still clinging to the remnants of sleep.

the café smelled of burnt espresso and stale milk when you walked in.

the air conditioning was set to "arctic tundra," making you shiver as you clocked in, though it was the kind of chill that seeped deeper than your skin.

it felt personal, like the universe itself wanted to make your morning worse.

“morning!” said your chipper coworker, whom you've forgotten the name of, who somehow always managed to be disgustingly upbeat at 6 a.m.

you forced a smile, the corners of your mouth twitching against your will.

“morning,” you muttered, your voice dry and cracked. the words tasted bitter, much like the coffee you were about to brew for countless people who wouldn’t even bother to tip.

the first wave of customers hit as soon as the doors opened.

the usual suspects—sleep-deprived fathers, yoga moms with their almond milk orders, and college kids trying to pull off a whole day running on no sleep on venti cold brews.

each interaction felt like a tiny chip at your soul, leaving you with less and less patience as the minutes dragged on.

the machine hissed angrily as you frothed milk for yet another caramel macchiato.

someone yelled from across the counter that you’d forgotten their extra shot of espresso. you mumbled an apology and fixed it, biting down on the urge to snap back.

“it’s okay,” they said with a fake smile that made your skin crawl. “just don’t let it happen again.”

oh, how you wanted to scream. but instead, you turned, plastered on your best customer service smile, and muttered, “of course. have a great day.”

inside, you were seething. outside, you were calm, collected, and polite. you were holding it together, but barely.

it was only 8:30 a.m.

you checked the clock again, for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. seconds crawled by, each one mocking you with its agonizing slowness.

your head was pounding, your feet were already aching, and the little voice in the back of your mind kept asking the same question: how much longer until you finally got a break?

the bell above the door jingled, and you barely lifted your head from where it was resting on the counter, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on you.

you sighed, straightened up, and plastered on your customer service smile, though it felt as brittle as your resolve.

and there he was.

he stood there like he owned the place, tall and broad-shouldered, radiating the kind of effortless confidence that could make anyone else in the room shrink into themselves.

his dark, messy hair framed a face that was equal parts handsome and terrifying, with a scar cutting across the left side of his lip. his green eyes were sharp, glinting with something unreadable but unmistakably dangerous.

beside him, a small boy—probably no older than five or six—stood quietly, his dark spiky hair and piercing gaze mirroring the man’s.

the guy’s presence alone was enough to silence the usual low hum of conversation in the café.

your coworker practically froze in place, her earlier chipper attitude evaporating into thin air.

he approached the counter with an almost lazy stride, his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression somehow both calm and irritated at the same time.

you noticed him glance at the girl who had snapped at you earlier, his green eyes dragging over her with the kind of deadpan disinterest that could shatter anyone’s ego.

you bit back a smirk.

“what can i get for you?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral, though his sheer presence made your fingers tighten slightly on the register.

“green tea,” he said, his voice low and rough, with a slight edge of disinterest.

“iced or hot?” you asked, looking up at him.

he raised an eyebrow like the question itself was ridiculous. “hot.”

then, without missing a beat, he glanced down at the boy beside him, who was quietly clutching the hem of his shirt.

“and a coffee for the kid,” he added.

your eyebrows shot up before you could stop yourself. you looked between him and the boy, who blinked up at you with wide, blank eyes.

“...okay,” you said slowly, not entirely sure if he was serious or if this was some kind of weird joke. but the guy’s face didn’t flinch.

“make it black,” he added, as though that somehow clarified things.

“can i get a name for the order?” you asked, your voice coming out a little softer than you meant.

“fushigoru,” he replied, his gaze still fixed on you. it was like he was studying you, and despite the coolness in his voice, there was something almost unnerving about the way he looked at you.

“okay, fushiguro,” you said, tapping away at the register, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to weigh you down. “and would you like a small, medium, or large for both orders?”

“small for the coffee,” he said, his voice still laced with that nonchalance. “large for the green tea.”

you nodded, your fingers moving to punch in the details, but they felt like they were moving too slowly, too clumsily, under the weight of his stare. you kept your eyes down, tapping the buttons as quickly as you could.

when you finally finished, you forced a smile. “that’ll be 13.49.”

he pulled his hand out of his pocket, glancing down at it like he was hoping some miracle would happen, but then muttered, “damn, i only got a ten.”

he paused, eyeing his son for a moment before saying in a voice that was rough yet oddly affectionate, “you got any change?”

the kid just blinked up at him, his expression unreadable.

you stood there, unsure whether to laugh or keep your smile intact, but you couldn't help the small chuckle that bubbled up. “that’s okay,” you said, trying to sound breezy as you waved him off.

it wasn’t like you had a choice anyway.

he was intimidating—like a brick wall in human form, the kind of guy you didn’t say no to. and the fact that he had a kid with him made it even harder to imagine turning him away.

he was handsome too, in a way that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t quite understand, but knew you should probably keep your distance from.

besides, your manager wasn’t here today, and you weren’t about to pick a fight over a measly 13 bucks.

"it's fine, really," you said, offering him a reassuring smile, hoping it didn’t look as forced as it felt.

he gave you a look, the kind that seemed to say he wasn’t used to being turned down for anything, but then his gaze softened just slightly as he glanced down at his son.

“appreciate it,” he muttered, the words not entirely soft, but not harsh either.

you felt your heart skip a beat, not entirely sure why you were still smiling, but not regretting it either.

you bit your lip, trying to keep yourself steady. "mhm," you hummed in agreement, before offering a small, polite smile. "you should be getting your order soon."

he gave a brief nod, and then, as if he couldn’t be bothered to waste another second of his day, he turned away and walked toward a table.

you watched him go for a second before returning to the mundane tasks—filling orders, wiping down counters, and keeping your head down to avoid any more unnecessary distractions.

time seemed to drag on, the minutes ticking past painfully slow.

eventually, though, the drinks were ready.

“order for fushigoru!” you called out, your voice soft and sweet as it carried across the café.

you tried to make it sound pleasant, but the way his name hung in the air seemed to make the whole room feel a little more charged.

instead of waiting for him to come to the counter, you decided to take the drinks over to his table yourself.

as you walked toward him, you couldn't help but notice how big he was, how his shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt.

he was practically a wall of muscle, and standing so close made you feel small, almost fragile in comparison.

your heart thudded against your chest as you approached, your steps faltering ever so slightly.

as you reached his table, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking up at him.

your big, doe eyes met his—vulnerable, wide, and searching for something in his unreadable expression.

“here you are,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, handing him the hot green tea.

then, with a soft smile, you bent down to meet the boy’s height, offering him the small coffee. “and a black coffee for the cutie.”

he blinked at you, still silent, but his small face lit up for a moment at the attention.

you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm, and for a second, everything around you seemed to disappear as you focused on this strange, brief moment of connection.

your fingers instinctively twisted a curl around your finger, a nervous habit that you didn’t even realize you’d developed until you felt the weight of fushiguro's gaze on you.

you shifted slightly, trying not to fidget, but it was hard to ignore how intense his stare was.

"let me know if you need anything else," you said quickly, your voice soft but tinged with that undercurrent of nervousness you couldn't hide.

he didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you from head to toe, his expression unreadable.

your heart raced in your chest, and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do with yourself.

"yeah…" he finally murmured, dragging out the word, his tone flat. you couldn’t tell if he was amused or just uninterested.

before you could think of another thing to say, your coworker, who you still couldn’t even remember the name of, called out from across the café, her voice cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

"we need you at the counter!"

the irritation bubbled up inside you before you could stop it.

you turned, your expression faltering for just a second before you snapped, "give me a minute," your voice sharp, the words coming out with a bite that you hadn’t meant to show.

the soft, shy persona you usually wore was slipping—this wasn’t the version of you that made small talk or took everything in stride.

no, this was the part of you that didn’t tolerate being interrupted, especially not when you were already trying so damn hard to keep things together.

you turned back to fushiguro, your strained smile barely managing to hide your frustration.

"enjoy," you said, the words carrying a little more edge than you meant, but still, you tried to hold onto that pleasantness.

as you walked away, you could feel his eyes on your back, but you didn’t dare look over your shoulder.

he café was a blur of noise and motions as you went about your shift, your hands moving mechanically through the familiar routine.

trying to smile through the exhaustion. the customers came and went, some polite, some downright rude, and you gritted your teeth as you pushed through each interaction.

you wiped down the counter, barely paying attention to the subtle hum of conversation around you.

your coworkers were more concerned with their phones than actually helping out, and you took it upon yourself to pick up the slack.

then came the spills.

a toddler, running wild with sticky hands, knocked over an entire tray of lattes, sending them splashing across the floor.

the heat of the liquid burned your hand as you rushed to clean it, but the mess was already done.

"great," you muttered under your breath, scrambling to grab napkins and try to salvage whatever dignity you had left.

the clock ticked on, and it only seemed to get worse.

a group of teenagers piled into the café, all of them loud and obnoxious, demanding refills, rolling their eyes when you didn’t get their orders perfect.

your patience wore thin. you knew you were just a barista, but god motherfucking damn! you couldn’t help the frustration bubbling up from deep inside.

by the time the final rush of the day came, you were completely drained, running on autopilot.

and then, of course, the cherry on top—one of your regulars, an older woman who always had a sharp tongue, snapped at you when you made her coffee "too cold."

"this is unacceptable!" she yelled, waving her cup in the air like it was some kind of weapon. "do you even know what you're doing?!"

you blinked, trying to keep it together, but it was all too much.

the weight of everything—the spilled drinks, the rude customers, the overwhelming noise—pushed you past your limit.

your hands trembled as you grabbed the coffee, quickly remaking it and forcing another smile, but it felt fake, like the last straw.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but the lump in your throat kept growing.

the moment the café cleared out, you rushed to the back to clean up, the tears threatening to spill.

you clocked out for the day, but the relief was short-lived.

the world outside seemed so big, so noisy. the sun was setting, casting a dull orange hue over the parking lot.

you walked to your car, needing a moment to breathe, but the weight of the day hung heavy on your shoulders.

without even thinking, you sank onto the curb, feeling the cool concrete against your legs.

your hand covered your face, trying to hold back the tears, but it was useless. everything had been so overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the tightness in your chest.

unaware of the man standing not too far away, you sniffled and wiped at your eyes, letting the exhaustion and frustration finally break free.

toji fushiguro stood near the edge of the parking lot, cigarette dangling from his fingers.

he had been heading back to megumi-- who was at school, when he noticed you sitting alone, your shoulders hunched, your expression a far cry from the cheerful barista he had seen earlier.

he didn’t care, not really. he was a man of few words and even fewer emotional investments.

but there was something about seeing you, so sad and alone in that moment, that made him pause.

he hadn’t meant to see you like this, but megumi had mentioned something about how pretty you were, and how the coffee was good.

he felt a small twinge of guilt as he glanced in your direction again, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

after a long moment of hesitation, he tossed the half-burnt cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his shoes.

“cigarette?” a mans voice asked, his voice gravelly but not unkind, as he approached you.