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☕₊°ᗢ₊˚✧ Writer's note: I dunno.. I got bored and decided to write my silly ass scenarios...
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Tatsuo was exhausted.
The kind of tired that crept into her bones and settled there like permanent weight. The espresso shots did nothing. Her spotify playlist had looped twice, her apron strings were tangled, and her name tag had long since given up on clinging to her chest.
"Welcome to Starbucks. How can I help you?"
She said it for the fiftieth time that day, smiling through the burnout.
The night shift wasn’t hell… but it was definitely purgatory.
She leaned against the counter during the rare moment of peace—no customers, just the low hum of machines and the occasional hiss of steaming milk.
And then the bell jingled.
She jumped at the sound, groaning softly as her eyes were almost drooping. "Sorry, we're clos--"
Only to pause.
He was here.
Ryusei Shidou, her boyfriend.
Hair messy from practice. Soccer bag slung lazily over his shoulder. Sweat still clinging to his neck like he hadn’t even showered first.
His pink eyes lit up when he saw her.
“Tatsuuuuu~” he drawled, voice loud in the empty store.
She blinked.
“...Did you run here?”
“Nah. I sprinted.”
“Ryusei, it’s almost 11PM.”
“And you’re still working, so I’m here to supervise.”
He leaned on the counter, grin softening.
“Also, you look tired as shit.”
“Thanks, genius,” She snorted, grabbing a cup. “Your usual?”
“Nah. Surprise me. Just make it sweet. Like you~”
She rolled her eyes, cheeks warming as she prepped his drink.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t pull out his phone.
Didn’t distract her.
Just… stood there, watching her like she were the best part of his day.
She slid the drink across to him—a caramel ribbon crunch thing he always pretended wasn’t his favorite.
“What’s the verdict, athlete?”
He took one long sip and grinned.
“Better than sex.”
She fake coughed sarcastically.
"COUGH COUGH Your such a liar. COUGH"
“True. Sex wins. But this is very close.”
She chuckled under her breath, wiping down the counter as he sipped again, watching her like she were made of stars.
“Y’know,” She mumbled, “sometimes I feel like I don’t really fit in your world.”
He paused mid sip, raising a brow.
“Mh?”
She hesitated.
“You’re out there being a star. Rising athlete. Blue Lock prodigy. And I’m over here… drawing sketches and doodles and pretending not to cry at the espresso machine.”
He blinked. His expression changed—softer, but sharper at the same time.
He rounded the counter before she could stop him, pulled her apron knot loose, and hugged her from behind.
“Don’t you ever say that shit again.”
She stilled.
His arms wrapped tight around her waist, head resting on her shoulder.
“You think I give a shit about the world I’m in?”
“I want you in it. Foam-stained apron and all.”
She bit her lip, staring at the floor.
“I just… I don’t do anything special. I’m not winning games or doing interviews or—”
“You keep me sane.”
He turned her in his arms so she was facing him.
His pink hair was damp at the roots. His eyes were tired, too.
“You deal with angry Karens and weird orders and long-ass shifts and still smile at me like I’m your favorite person.”
He cupped her cheek.
“That’s a win, babe. You’re my win.”
She blinked fast.
“God, why are you being soft.”
“Because you’re soft and you deserve it.”
He kissed her forehead. Just once. No smirk. No tease. Just Shidou, quietly in love with the barista who made his world a little sweeter.
“Now let’s finish closing so I can carry you home.”
She sniffed.
“You’re not carrying me.”
“Try me. I’m jacked and stupid.”
She laughed.
He smiled like he’d just scored a goal.
Later that night, they laid tangled together in her bed, his head on her chest, mumbling sweet nonsense into her skin while she played with his hair.
“You’re the best caramel drizzle in my frappuccino, you know that?”
“That made no sense, Ryu.”
“Shhh. Let me love you.”
And she did.
Because tired barista or not, she had all the sweetness he’d ever need.
