#yaeshima

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! ˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗

•°. *࿐ Your cafe is claimed by your regulars to be a precious gem in Fontaine. with a plentiful assortment of only the finest brews and ingredients imported from other nations, it isn't hard to attract the attention of those strolling by the streets of Quartier Lyonnais.

You specialize in not just selling homemade pastries and jam or coffee, but tea. From simple Inazuman matcha to pungent and earthy pu'er from Liyue, you can brew up just about any variety. Your carefully hand-picked blends, fresh and luxurious, tend to be more favored amongst your customers rather than the ordinary servings of coffee. Now, everyone demands your tea, and normal cappuccinos and expressos are pushed to the side, forgotten.

There is something different about your small business that is just incomparable to other cafes on the same street. It's very welcoming, with all of the little pots of sweet-smelling, colorful flowers growing at the front door, the cute menu propped outside the window with all of the week's special selections printed in neat, loopy handwriting, and the tantalizing fragrance of rich baked goods.

Inside, wooden shelves with extending rows of packaged bags tied up with pink ribbon and labeled jars of dried tea leaves line the wall behind the counter and your workspace where you conjure up every single beverage by hand.

Each day, the smell of the store seems to change.

One Monday, refreshing mint and sugary fruit, Wednesday is reserved for the mouth-watering scent of buttered bread that you whip up to restock the glass displays, and Fridays are sometimes rainy, and when waves of chamomile crash onto the front doorstep nothing but floral notes of rose and warm apples fill your nostrils.

Recently, the past few weeks have gone by steadily. The mornings are the busiest, when the heavy curtains are pulled away and the open sign is hung up on the door, most of your usual customers rush in for a to-go bag of berry scones and their favorite blend poured into paper cups with decorated lids stuck on top.

You work assiduously and to show what makes your tea, well, yours, you take extra care when it comes to the orders you receive.

Each cup always includes a special sticky note with either a little individual message for most of your frequent patrons who enjoy chatting with you no matter the time of day, or messily scribbled smiley faces and stars and words of encouragement. It's your unique trademark and you can only hope that your purple-inked notes can make someone's day just a bit better.

Surely, one of your customers must have spread the word about your distinctive way of preparing your tea, because one day, when you least expected it, crowds of people were grouped outside the door while you had temporarily closed for your lunch break. It was overwhelming, with all of the new faces to greet and welcome inside, and the enormous amounts of custom beverages you had to make. A rush of excitement overcame you on that unforgettable day. It was hard getting through everyone all by yourself, and while you wished you had someone else to lend a hand, you felt a sense of accomplishment and took pride in your hard work.

The bustle died down over the next couple of days, and soon, you were operating back at a more consistent pace you could easily deal with without breaking a single sweat. But your business has definitely gained popularity since you've been having more customers than you did several months ago.

The people weren't just your customers, but many have been made your friends. The elderly of Fontaine who come in for a cup of jasmine and your scrumptious pound cake are very fond of you and your sweet personality, finding your company as bright as sunshine. They were kind, always sitting at the table near your brewing station, and you enjoyed conversing with them back and forth as you took orders, always welcome into their daily gossiping sessions.

The success brought you a sense of happiness you had once been separated from, and you felt as though everything was finally moving down the right path.

It's Tuesday, and Tuesdays are more of a relaxing day. The soothing aftermath of the tumultuous storm Monday was.

Early afternoon, the clock ticks, and the hand points to three twenty-seven. there are no customers currently dining in and Fontaine has stopped at a peaceful rest. It's just you and the comfort of your shop.

To indulge in the serenity, you make yourself your favorite blend. Popping open the lid of the jar of shriveled matcha leaves, you dig into the green blend with a measuring spoon and place it in a tea strainer. It falls to the bottom of your glass with a meek clink! and you pour in the scorching hot water from your kettle.

A fresh batch of scones is baking in the oven of your workspace, it's a new recipe you decided to test out. Dried cranberries and chopped almonds, a simple combination that you think will work well for when the cold arrives.

Sitting at the counter, perched on a tall chair, you blow at your green tea and drink prudently, fearful of somehow managing to burn your tongue. Even as an expert with your magical tea-making hands, you have not mastered the art of comfortably drinking cups of liquid flames. The bottom of the cup, wet with moisture from when you washed it not a long while ago, sits comfortably on a pink fabric coaster you knitted up, and you stare down at your reflection in the murky tea while listening to the ticking of the oven timer.

Boredom strikes once the clock hits three thirty, and you crank up the music on the radio. It's soothing, the tune that switches on, and the beat in the background reminds you of the pitter-pattering of rain against the window.

The bells hung at the top of the front door jingle merrily and the startling sound jolts you out of your absentminded reverie. You crane your head to peer at who is entering. Another new face. An intimidating one, at that. Most people would recognize the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, but you, who had only arrived in Fontaine a few months before to start your business again from scratch, hadn't a clue who the mysterious man could have been.

Your spoon that you were previously stirring around in your tea is dropped back in with a light splash, staining the countertop as you try to clumsily muster up the words to welcome the customer and reach for a napkin to clean up your mistake.

Wriothesley watches you struggle from the front door before making his way inside. His first impression of you, when you were staring off in the distance and daydreaming, has completely changed. You seemed so peaceful when your mind was elsewhere, yet you were a total klutz when it came to reality. It's slightly amusing to watch, how much you fumble to properly clean up and stammer over your words, but he manages to keep a straight face.

"Welcome...!" You squeak from the counter, not even noticing that he was quickly approaching. Your voice trails off as you quickly glance down to wipe away the spill on the counter and toss the napkin off to the side.

You keep your head low and count inside your head for five seconds to both regain your "professional" composure and scold yourself. Wriothesley barely has the time to return your greeting.

"What can I get for you?" When you lift your head up, you're met with the sight of his stony eyes examining yours, and you pull back, startled. When did he even sit down?

The only thing that comes to mind when you eye the stranger is that the puffy dunes in his hair resemble pup ears, and the thought makes you stifle a laugh. An intimidating face paired with strange hair...

He seems to notice the way you falter for a moment and he awkwardly clears his throat, stiff expression softening a bit.

"What do you recommend? I'd like to try a cup of tea, any variety would be fine,"

"Hm, alright then,"

You ponder for a bit, turning around as you scan the tea shelves. Seeing how he wasn't familiar when it came to the vast world of tea flavors, you chose something simple.

"How does white tea sound? It's very subtle," You offer kindly, stretching up on your tippy toes to grab the jar of white tea leaves from the tall shelf.

You open the lid and tilt the container over in his direction, showing him the long wrinkled buds.

Wriothesley, a man who loves drinking tea, has never tasted actual high-quality tea, let alone made a cup for himself. He wants to, of course, as he is aware of all sorts of tea there is, but to experience the finer end of tea is something he has never done.

With his line of work, he's busy. When he wants tea, all he does is go out and buy a couple cheap tea bags of his favorite brand, bring it back home, and toss one into a cup of hot water. Making loose-leaf tea, from what he has heard, is a tedious process, the hardest part being the tea leaf picking. Tea leaves are expensive. The cost to enjoy upscale things, he supposes.

Even if he had enough to purchase some for his own, it was hard to find them, which must have been why your store was so well-liked since you weighed and sold tea leaves by the pound with your own homespun stamp and branded label.

Fascinated by the sight of freshly harvested tea leaves up close, he nods eagerly, "That sounds lovely. I'll have a cup,"

Another thing that Wriothesley notices about you is that you are certainly clumsy, but not when you're working.

Your back is turned to him while you try to settle down your workspace (which is untidily strewn with several used tea strainers, slips of paper with squiggly writing and doodles that are illegible from his sight, and bits of tea leaves), but he can tell by the thorough manner your hands move that you take each cup of tea very seriously. There's a perfectionistic glow in your benign eyes, a visible glint of determination that somehow enthralls him.

You call out to him after arranging a precisely measured amount of tea leaves on a strainer as the kettle is bubbling on the small stove, "Would you like anything else in your tea? Perhaps extra lemon or honey...?"

"Both, please,"

"Good choice! Coming right up. It's nearly done,"

A spritz of lemon juice from a slice you just cut mixed with a dash of honey, and it's finally finished. As you set down the white mug of piping tea, you peel off a little sticker mark with your cafe's name from a notepad you were carrying and stick it onto the front of the cup.

"Please enjoy," You present it to him with a coaster underneath and a soft smile.

"Thank you,"

Wriothesley waits for it to cool a bit, eyes lingering on you longer than they probably should as you wait for him to try it. You notice how handsome his weary features really are and anticipation gnaws away at you as he gingerly blows at the steam.

The dinging of your oven timer breaks your gaze away from him and scurry over to check on your scones that were long forgotten. A wave of relief washes over you as you pull out the dessert tray and from the awkward eye contact, you find your hands to be slightly shaky and your cheeks warm as you let the scones rest on the counter.

The corners of Wriothesley's lips turn up a bit and he chuckles at your embarrassment, a sound that is far sweeter than you would have ever expected to come from the man. When he languidly takes his first taste of the tea, you don't think he's as frightening as he first appeared.

You find yourself panicking a bit and you aren't sure why you care so much about his opinion, but you're rambling and spouting nonsense before you can fully register it.

"How does it taste? Is it to your liking? I may have added too much lemon, and I know some people don't like their tea too sour. I can make you a new cup, if you want me t-"

"It's perfect," He reassures you with a warm grin and you instantly close your mouth.

"It tastes even better than I can make myself, which is probably expected since I just use cheap tea bags. The lemon adds the right amount of citrus. It's wonderful as is, I promise,"

He drinks about half of it before adding a charming, "Thank you very much,"

The racing of your heart relaxes and you can't help but return his smile with an eased sigh, "Phew, you had me worried there. You're very welcome... as long as it tastes good, that's really all I can ask for,"

Your eyes travel back to the scones that are now mildly warm and you light up.

"Would you like a scone with your tea? It's a new recipe I'm trying, and... I could use a taste tester," You try to say slickly, bringing over the tray.

"Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to-"

"Count me in," Wriothesley says, somewhat enthusiastically, and the way you perk up happily is the best possible way to repay him.

You eagerly slide to him the nicest shaped scone out of the batch on a small brown napkin, and he realizes that he can't stop himself from smiling. To pull himself together, he coughs into his hand and holds back the idiotic grin threatening to spread on his lips.

He picks up the scone, inspecting the cute homemade sort of look it has, "What's inside of it?"

"Dried cranberries and almonds. I wanted to release a new version to see how it would do with the customers, and I had those ingredients left in my pantry so I whipped something up," You explain bashfully, poking at one yourself.

"They're a bit lumpy, though... I think I've been losing my charm at, erm, shaping things recently. I'm too used to making cakes with those fun molds,"

He gives a small laugh, "They're special in their own way. Gives them more character," He insists, breaking off a piece to eat.

It's moderately sweet, having more of a bread-like taste than a cake or cookie. The cranberries pop nicely and are delightfully tart, while the almonds give more texture.

He lets out an approving hum as he chews before you can even ask for his feedback.

"Delicious," He says with a nod, taking more bites, and you huff a bit, narrowing your eyes at him, a far contrast to the usual kind look you always have.

"Hm, I have a feeling you're just saying that to make me feel better..."

Another chuckle escapes him as he shakes his head earnestly, "I'm being honest. It tastes good. Why don't you give it a try yourself?"

And so you do. It's a bit dry, could use more cranberries maybe? But it really isn't as bad as you were expecting.

Wriothesley sees the surprised widening of your eyes, "See? Perhaps you're just underestimating yourself. I'd buy these any day. I think your customers will love them,"

He pops the last of his scone and finishes it up, wiping his fingers on the napkin.

"I'll take your word for it," You murmur, rosy pink rising to your cheeks as you look off to the side with hidden frustration.

Loads of people applauded your success. New friends you had made ever since coming to Fontaine complimented how delicious your tea was, customers who tried your desserts for the first time praised you greatly, and the elderly ladies who regularly dined in flattered you and made several comments about your beauty. All of which you responded humbly to.

Not once did they make you nervous, more so grateful. So why was it that you were getting all giddy over some random man? Because he liked your scones?

As you fall silent, Wriothesley downs about half of the rest of his tea. He really wasn't lying when he said yours was better than any cup he's brewed for himself.

He clears his throat, noticing how engrossed you were with the window.

"May I have some more honey?" He asks.

You look over at him, dismissing your useless train of thought. At his silly question, you're back to all smiles in no time and he prefers that more than when you're distraught.

"Yes, of course. How much would you like?"

"A spoonful would do,"

You hand him a spoon with more of the same honey you originally put into his tea and he thanks you for it, stirring it around to his liking before he's back to sipping.

Surprisingly, the rest of the time he spends with you is not as awkward as before. He's an expert at making small talk, it seems, nearly as much as an expert you are at tea. His voice is comforting, rich, and a little cheeky, you realize, when you learn he has a slight teasing side to him. It could put you to sleep, you think to yourself.

It doesn't feel like he's a simple customer, but more of a companion. Like someone you had known your whole life, and you don't think you've ever had a conversation go as smoothly as this one. By the end of it, you're genuinely laughing and it's a real laugh, not the sheepish ones you make when you're talking to any other customer. He does and doesn't make you nervous at the same time.

Nearly an hour passes by in a flash, his tea is cold when he downs the last of it. You're a bit upset when he says he has to leave.

"Thank you for..." You try to search for the right words, just like you were when he first entered.

"For talking with me. I enjoyed it very much..." You admit shyly, "-Wriothesley," You added quickly, testing how it officially sounded on your tongue.

He grins at the use of his name, "Of course. The tea was amazing. Perhaps I'll visit soon, to help you taste-test again,"

You really hope he does.

"I'll be sure to have a new recipe for you to try then!"

Once he's gone, you clean up his cup of tea. Recalling how he had been scraping his spoon against the bottom, some moments he was intently fixated on whatever was going on. Curious, you peek into the mug, nearly dropping it onto the floor by what you see.

The tiny bits of tea leaves leftover, like a trail of ants, curve into the small shape of a heart.

part 2!!! (just a short continuation for december)

(kinda rushed bc i was so excited to release this, my first full length fanfic!! wrio's kinda occ, but he's still cute and silly. my only thoughts for the ending: rizzley.)

(ignore any mistakes im too tired. all forms of interactions such as reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! i hope this doesnt flop)

𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 . . .

how he waits for you to finish up getting ready to sleep at the end of a long day. sitting in bed, probably reading a book or something else to keep himself entertained. he's entirely exhausted from work, heavy eyelids threatening to shut. until you finally come out of the bathroom with a lovely surprise.

dressed in a loose silk nightgown he has never seen you wear before, you greet him with a radiant smile he's always been utterly in love with, hair damp from your shower, a fluffy towel tucked in your lithe hands, sheer sleeves flowing down your delicate arms like milky waterfalls. he suddenly unable to tear his attention away from you. how could he when you're all dolled up and sitting prettily just for him at the edge of the bed?

as you dry off your hair, he admires you from up close, whatever he was doing before long forgotten as he takes in your ethereal visuals. even with your lush hair slightly disheveled and messy, you're as beautiful as ever in his eyes. flowery lace decorates the ends of your long butterfly sleeves and the hem of the nightgown's dangerously low neckline.

as if you don't have a single idea about the effect you have on him, you ramble on to him normally about how your day had gone like you always do. your voice is like an enchanting melody to him, your sweet rants and little frustrated heaved breaths are his favorite song. he could listen to you happily chirp on and on about whatever for days, but at this moment, not a word seems to be going into his ears.

droplets of water drip from your hair while you clumsily dry it, and the little round crystals slide down the skin of your exposed collarbone before dissolving when it hits the fabric.

not only are your body and innocent actions distracting him, but your scent is intoxicating. the smell of your favorite lotion drowns him and the shine of your glossy lips beneath the light of the dim lamp tempts him.

when you declare that it's time for bed, saying something about how tired he must be after such a laborious day, he stops you right there, grabbing onto your wrist. his heart is aching, aching for you and you only.

without a word, he silences you with a lustful kiss, hands roaming the depths of your body as he indulges in your startled squeak. he knows that you won't be getting any sleep tonight.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Alhaitham doesn't speak much to other people, but all of that seems to completely change when you're in the picture. with you, his precious lover, his normally icy exterior immediately breaks away. you're the only person he whole-heartedly enjoys talking to and he is never bored in your presence, as your idiocy never fails to intrigue him.

of course, bickering is a must, there are definitely more insults he spouts at you than compliments. you could say that that is his love language. but at the more intimate times where you feel closest to him and need to hear him tell you everything is going to be alright, the unexpected praise and bits of reassurance that hesitantly come out of his mouth always make you melt.

the first time he attempts to compliment you, it's so strange since the rare gentle nothings are foreign to your ears and so out of character for him, you think he's playing some sort of joke. it started off awkward yet sweet, and the deeper your relationship with Alhaitham grew, the easier it was for him to voice his appreciation for you. now, it comes naturally.

words of affirmation are not usually his forte, but he can always make an exception for you.

༊*·˚ 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

Alhaitham did not completely understand the concept of physical touch before he found you.

you exposed him to mostly everything he knows about it today, and at first, were the one who initiated all of the touching and gestures. you helped guide him into those sorts of things, showed him the kind of touches you enjoyed most, and he expanded further upon them based on his previous knowledge. when you look back at it now, it really seemed like he actually knew what he was doing! he got used to everything so quickly, from kissing to hand-holding to every other intimate gesture he had to offer. you didn't even teach him, really. he knew all about it but seemed hesitant to test it out without your confirmation.

you had just given him the extra push he needed because now, he's the one who's making you flustered when it used to be the other way around, no longer inexperienced.

now, Alhaitham isn't sure he could go an entire day without having your warmth by his side. he acts like he could, but you know better. every day, the first thing he does in the morning is reach out for you in bed when you aren't next to him when he wakes up. he sleeps with his arms wrapped protectively around you no matter what and doesn't let up his grip even when he's fast asleep in the middle of the night.

before leaving for work, he can't go without his morning kiss, and if he's feeling particularly needy, several, since the feeling of your lips gives him life and the strength he needs to get through the day; a taste even more awakening than coffee.

out in public, whenever you're out on a walk or shopping, Alhaitham instinctively takes your hand into his, his much larger, calloused fingers bringing you eternal warmth that sends pleasant shivers down your spine.

Alhaitham always prefers to show his love for you through actions rather than words, and physical touch is certainly one of his many specialties.

*ೃ༄ 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭-𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

Alhaitham's gifts for you are picked out with utmost care and attention.

It isn't odd to receive a small present from him every once in a while, it doesn't even have to be a special occasion of any sort. a weakness of his is that whenever he sees something in the window of a store that he finds would look lovely on you, he always purchases it, without even considering the price. he doesn't spare any second thoughts before he's hurriedly heading into the shop to buy it before someone else sets their eye on it.

there have been plenty of times when you would open the door to greet him when he comes back home from work in the evening and you notice a little goodie bag of treats just for you tucked under his arm. judging by the constantly multiplying sizes of the packages, you're always concerned about how much and what exactly the bag's contents are, it's like a surprise each time. you scold him for it- or at least try to, but he doesn't budge. he's stubborn, too persistent when you protest that he shouldn't be spending such a tremendous amount of money on you!

"nonsense. nothing I buy you is a waste of money," he says simply, ushering you inside and ignoring the way you pout at him in objection.

despite the constant headaches he gives you, his gifts really do make you feel loved, even if it's nothing but a box of your favorite chocolates. that is the true beauty of his presents. it doesn't have to be your birthday or your anniversary, it can just be a plain ordinary day.

when you're craving a snack that you forgot to buy during your last grocery haul, he chides you lightly, telling you that whatever junk you want shouldn't be eaten too often, but a minute later, he's out the door, on his way to grab it for you.

Alhaitham's gifts are perfect each time, it seems. he buys you things that he knows you'll use and cherish. the items that are most frequently bought are things like an article of fine clothing like a cute sundress or a nice t-shirt, and a piece of stunning jewelry to add to your growing collection (all of which were from him only) because he knows that you'll always use them.

he admires seeing you wear the trinkets he buys, the sight of you elated by the beautiful gifts is all he could ever ask for.

✧.* 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

Alhaitham devotes himself to spending as much time with you each day as he possibly can. right as he's off the clock at work, he comes back to you faster than ever. the best part of his day is the lazy evening he spends with you before dinner. cuddling on the couch together, hands intertwined, reading together. it's a safe haven for the both of you, the nights where there isn't much to be said but a lot to show.

cooking dinner with you has never felt like a chore, and he views it as a bonding experience. you're clumsy, tripping over things, sometimes adding the wrong measurements, steering away from the directions in the cookbook, and he's exasperated by the end of it, but despite how much he scolds you for it, he wouldn't trade it for anything else. he finds cooking with you to be very domestic. cozy. and it's one of his favorite ways to spend time with you.

days when you both aren't busy are when he decides to take you out and do whatever you'd like. he's alright with going wherever you want to. if you're enjoying it, he is, too. it doesn't need to be planned out when he can have fun with you anywhere.

cute cafe dates that involve him feeding you cake and wiping off the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, out-of-the-blue detours to nearby ice cream stalls to try every flavor your stomachs can possibly muster, startling him by popping out from behind a bookshelf when he's picking out a new book at the library, watching the mesmerizing sunset at the beach.

every date is an exploration worth remembering. quality time is Alhaitham's favorite love language because having you drag him around to the ends of the Earth is the very thing he lives for.

ੈ♡˳ 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞

Alhaitham does these secret little things behind your back you haven't even caught onto yet that show his undying love for you.

sometimes, he doesn't even know he does them himself. it's an innate instinct he has, one to protect you. covering the corners of a table when you reach your head down to pick something up, noticing that you have forgotten a certain item you always need to use when you go out and swiftly plopping it into your bag for you so you'll have it when you reach for it, hovering his hand over your face to fend off the searing gaze of the sun when you're outside and didn't think to bring a hat. they aren't even acts of service, just things that he did for you without faltering.

Alhaitham is very observant and he has these little internal alerts that go off in his head when he begins noticing something is slightly off about you, usually when you're sick. the first time he realizes you've been sneezing and sniffling a bit too much, he immediately confronts you about it and sends you off to bed like a mother with her ill child.

he takes good care of you. checking your temperature hourly, patting your head with a damp towel if you have a fever, and spending hours in the kitchen trying to conjure up an effective remedy to aid your sore throat. bitter tea and soup is hand-fed to you as he strokes your hair as a way to persuade you into trying it for his sake.

he's always worried about you, and when the time comes for you to be tended to, he would never waver even the slightest to step in and help.

author's note:

𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎 ( 𝚗˘𝚟˘•) 𝙸 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜!! 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝟷𝟸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚝! 𝚕𝚖𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚌 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚛𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚍𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚍𝚔

𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 & 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐈 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐨! 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞

𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭! 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 <𝟑 🍪

•°. *࿐ Holidays in Fontaine are much busier than you had ever expected them to be.

The bustling streets are crowded with people scurrying through the plazas in quick frenzies to get to their favorite stores early and purchase gifts for loved ones before everything goes out of stock. Tourists are visiting the plentiful nation to visit relatives or continue their traveling journeys, which leads to you seeing some new faces in your tea shop.

You've been working indefatigably these past few days. It's astounding how so much can change within a few months. When you first opened your cafe, weeks went by in a calming breeze, and the atmosphere remained still and tranquil. A concealed treasure, your store used to be. Now, your business has been steadily growing and nearly everyone in Fontaine knows of your shop.

As a result of your flourishing popularity, buzzing swarms of customers have been showing up when Christmas neared just around the corner. Daily, the tea house has been full to the brim with people, just like an overflowing teacup. There haven't been any lines formed outside, luckily, as most people just run in to pick up a few goodies before hastily taking their leave, but that doesn't mean it hasn't been taking somewhat of a toll on you.

Of course, you love your job, but it's definitely hard running the place on your own. You have a few friends who are more than willing to lend a hand and take orders alongside you, but they can't stay the entire time, with their own schedules packed.

Even your own boyfriend has taken a few shifts with you, and while it took a bit of time for him to get the hang of brewing and serving the tea, he always got the job done. (but his baking was quite terrible even with a recipe, so you'd never put him on pastry duty.)

Ah. Your boyfriend. You haven't seen him yet this morning, but he promises to visit during your breaks like always, so you aren't concerned about the possibility of not running into him today. Even so, you miss him dearly.

So much so that your mind wanders as you hurry around your workspace behind the counter.

The oven dings when a fresh batch of scones is finished baking, and the cheery ringing blends into the conversations of patrons, fading away as loud chattering takes over. Your thoughts are overwhelmed by the loud environment of your shop, and you bite the inside of your bottom lip as you try to concentrate on carefully straining the tea leaves from the earthy liquid.

A cup of Earl Grey is what you're currently working on. It's Wriothesley's favorite brew. Maybe that's why you're paying such close detail to it, the same way you would if you were really making it for your boyfriend.

You pour it into a plain white teacup, one with similar floral designs to the tea sets he has in his office down at the Fortress, and you set it up prettily on a brown wooden coaster, just like the ones you present to him when he visits you for lunch.

You almost leave it right there, on the counter, when you remember that it was an actual customer's order. Not Wriothesley's.

Ah, this person is lucky to be getting such a nice cup of tea... you think to yourself as you take it over to its assigned table.

"Please enjoy," You say to the customer with a polite smile before going back to tend to the other orders.

The scones were nearly burnt when you got back to them, but a little bit of crust never hurt anyone.

This new scone recipe was one with chocolate chips, and it was a brilliant idea suggested by him, of course. The little parcels of goodness melted into the scone dough, and the result was always satisfactory. Gooey and warm. Another new item added to your menu.

You were a bit hopeless, maybe. Just a bit. Because now, everything seemed to remind you of Wriothesley. It wasn't helping a single bit that this entire week your cafe was deemed as a "couple attraction." Gradually, you began to see several young couples coming to your store on their dates.

As more and more started to show up in the winter, you wondered what exactly made your little cafe so appealing? Perhaps the warm fireplace you installed added more romantic charm to the already comforting atmosphere. Was it because of the music you played? Some of your favorite songs were a tad bit sappy...

Nope, it was because of your tea. Tea brings people together, was the conclusion you eventually came to. The evidence to back that up? Tea was the reason why you and Wriothesley even met.

Tea is a universal matchmaker...

You purse your lips as you watch two young lovers sitting at a nearby table giggle and talk together. You weren't particularly jealous of them, but seeing their happiness made you yearn for your own partner.

The sting of the hot scone tray on the tip of your finger is what snaps you out of your daydreams.

You don't trust yourself with lingering too long behind the counter anymore. Back to the cash register you go.

"Can I get a cup of white tea?"

"Of course. It'll take a while, so please find a table to wait at, sir,"

The dried white tea leaves take you back to when you first met Wriothesley.

Ever since your first meeting many months ago, and a little incident with tea leaf hearts, you remember how he kept coming back to your store. With each visit, he grew more and more persistent in getting to know you better. He would only stop by during your break times to speak with you, much like now, and during both of your days off, you'd go out together to explore the vast lands of Fontaine.

Back then, you were new to the nation and he would happily introduce you to the customs and traditions of Fontaine. Friendly hang-outs sparked lovely dates, romantic evenings, and eventual confessions.

Now, here you were, a good three months into your growing relationship.

You sigh helplessly to yourself, silently praying that the rest of the morning will go by faster. Two hours and about fifty cups of tea later, it does.

It takes an extra ten minutes to finish up the last couple of orders and shoo out the customers who are left in disbelief that you were "closing so early." You explained that there was a well-deserved lunch break waiting for you, and there was really only one person you wanted to see the most right now. Though you left that last part out.

Finally, the clock ticks three and while the outside world speeds up, time seems to go by slower when the cafe is empty.

The large fireplace crackles heartily, but not as lively as it did when there were customers. Now, it settles down to a more peaceful pace and the soothing flickering eases your mind as you try to unwind from the busy morning. You wipe your forehead with a relieved noise, taking your usual seat at the counter with two cups of fresh, steaming Earl Grey prepared on matching pink coasters.

You wait patiently and impatiently at the same time. You'd wait as long as needed for your boyfriend, yet you couldn't help but be a bit pouty over the fact that he was about twenty minutes late. But you know he's busy, probably more than you are every day, so you figure that you can spare him for now. After all, the highlight of your day is undoubtedly worth waiting for.

The bells decorating the top of the front doors jingle and you perk up almost instantly.

"Did I keep you waiting long?"

You watch as Wriothesley enters, pursing your lips.

"You're late..." You try to say sternly, but your pleased smile creeping up on your face gives you away.

He chuckles, sitting down in front of you with a deep sigh of contentment. He places his hands over yours, resting his arms on the counter as he strokes your fingers gently. His hands are cold, a great contrast to your delicate and warmer ones, but you relish how relaxing they feel over yours.

The intimate gesture has your cheeks heating up despite how many times he's done it before and you're sure he notices due to the way the corners of his lips twitch with amusement.

"Forgive me, my lady. It was hard getting around the streets when there were so many people hurrying around,"

You roll your eyes, smiling a little at his playful nickname for you, "I'm sure it was. As if you couldn't easily get past everyone,"

"It seems that work has taken a toll on me,"

"Have you gotten weaker, Wriothesley?"

"When you put it that way, I'd say 'feeble' is a nicer word,"

You hum, holding his hand up and lacing your fingers with his much larger, nimble ones.

"Did you miss me?" He asks, quieter this time.

You're positive he already knows the answer to that, but entertain him anyway.

"Mhm, a lot," You admit meekly.

He can practically feel his heart melting in his chest and he laughs again, eased by your words.

"I see. I missed you, too, you know. It's hard to work properly when you're invading all of my thoughts,"

"You're such a tease," You pout, your sweet blush growing deeper. An adorable sight reserved for him only.

He unravels his fingers from yours to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand, "It's not teasing if it's true,"

He really was going to be the death of you.

"But enough about me. How was business so far? Any pestering customers?"

You shake your head, "Fortunately, no. Although it was very busy,"

You fiddle with his fingers, tweaking and caressing them with your warm touch as you continue to speak, unaware of the growing tint on his cheeks caused by your actions.

"I sold a lot of the new scones we tested together the other day. They were a big hit,"

A soft smile makes its way to his face, "Ah, I told you. I have the best ideas, don't I?" He jokes.

"That's good to hear. Anything else happen?"

"Hm..." You think for a bit, trying to recall any significant event, "Not really. All I can remember was missing you,"

He narrows his eyes at you, and you don't fail to notice the bashful tint on his face.

"You tease,"

"It's not teasing if it's true," You quote with a proud smile.

"Very funny,"

"Drink up, it's going to get cold," You successfully change the subject by pushing over his cup of Earl Grey to him.

"Mm, thank you," He eyes the cute holiday-themed mug decorated with pretty wreaths and ribbons and cute teddy bears, smile broadening as he takes his first sip, "Perfect as always."

You join him with a peaceful hum, warming up your palms by curling them around your own matching mug and tinkering thoughtfully with the tea bag tag that sticks out over the rim, "I was going to make hot chocolate, but I figured I'd ask you first. Do you want me to make some?"

"Hot chocolate? I don't think I've ever tried it before..."

"Really?" You perk up a bit, eyes widening at his confession, "Now I have to make some."

"Can it be any better than your tea?" He watches you scurry behind the counter after gulping down about half of your tea, amused.

"Probably not, but I think it'll make for a nice change,"

Soon, light-hearted bickering and chatter between the two of you fills the air as you prepare another two cups. Matching, of course. It's an endearing habit of yours, your boyfriend has picked up over the few months of dating. He notices that whenever you pick up little trinkets and gifts for him, you always make sure that you have the same item identical to his. Whether it be homemade bracelets you hand-craft, articles of clothing, or teacups- it has to be the same as his.

He listens to you ramble while pouring out the hot chocolate powder into each cup, making it in front of him to show him the entire process. His eyes never leave you, even as he downs the rest of his tea, eager to try this unfamiliar beverage.

Instant hot cocoa was never something you drank often, especially when you had such a vast supply of tea you could turn to whenever you needed a comforting beverage to soothe your mind. However, it was a rare guilty pleasure you enjoyed indulging in.

"It's just a powder?" Wriothesley asks, intrigued by the sight, staring curiously at the packet in your hands. "It's like that brand of instant coffee everyone has been drinking..."

You hum with slight amusement at how interested he seems in the foreign drink, pouring out hot water into each mug as you speak, "It's similar to it, I suppose. I'm not sure you'll like it all that much,"

"And why is that? It can't be as bad as coffee," He says, taking the little spoon you pass to him as he stirs the powder around in the water until it completely dissolves.

"It's awfully sweet," You admit, giggling slightly when he bashes the taste of coffee, "But you can always adjust it by adding water, so we'll see what you think of it."

He's quick to take an eager sip, right as everything is thoroughly combined and you let out an even greater laugh.

"How is it? I was going to add the finishing touch, you know,"

He lets out a hum of mild approval, relishing the strange flavor, "It's alright. Very sweet, I can't possibly imagine what the finishing touch to this may be,"

"I was going to add something that makes it even sweeter," You present to him a bottle of whipped cream, shaking it in front of him. He raises an eyebrow.

"What is that?"

"Whipped cream," You say with excitement. You introduce him to all sorts of other things to add to your drinks as if they weren't sweet enough already.

Generous dollops of sugary toppings make him scrunch his nose in distaste, yet you two manage to have your fun. He dabs whipped cream at your nose, and you giggle, doing the same until you're both having a whipped cream fight like little children. Mini puffy marshmallows are thrown back and forth, a few making it into his mouth when you try to give him a taste of petty revenge by aiming a handful at him.

Snowflakes fall from the sky gracefully, soon piling up along the icy streets of Fontaine as the two of you remain stuck in your own little world, as if nothing more was important.