ghost-with-a-teacup

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Its 3AM, and I just binge read part 3, 4 and 5 and LORD can I just say the way you write reader biting back is SO FREAKING SATISFYING. im out here with a smug grin living vicariously through your writing (because unfortunately ive gone through similar events). Its everything I wish I could have said.

LIKE MAKE THEM GROVEL, MUAHAHAHHAHAA.

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

GOD I NEED TO MAKEOUT WITH SOMEONE SO BAD

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

all i'm saying is that i wouldn't NOT become a stripper for sevika.

that is all

#i should be studying #but instead #i am once again #simping for my wife sevika #GODS LIKE WHY IS SHE SO FINE #SO SMEXY #SO CHEFS KISS #LEMME SMOOCH PLS #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika arcane x reader #sevika x reader #arcane

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

manifesting that i get a job at a gay lil cookie store

#this is me manifesting #speaking my intentions to the universe #i wanna be gay #and bake cookies #for the GAYS

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

NO PRESSURE BUT I AM IN DIRE NEED OF PART 2 (IF YOUD LIKE)

Little Purple Stars

Ghost x FemReader x Soap

Content: Soulmate AU, fluff, no angst

Everyone had a soulmate; whether that connection was platonic or romantic was entirely up to those involved. Some people even had multiple soulmates, like you did, which wasn’t that uncommon. It happens whenever a person turns 20 yrs old. They are suddenly able to draw on themselves, and have the picture appear on the skin of your soulmate.

You had two soulmates; one of them rarely ever drew on themselves, and if they did it was only with a black pen. Usually said drawing would also be a little black heart next to something that you or your other soulmate drew. You’ve always called this soulmate, Moon.

On the other hand soulmate number two, or Sun as you called them, was much more open and was constantly drawing little doodles all over themselves.

Sun and Moon; basic maybe, but you’ve always felt that it fits them perfectly. 

-

It was your third time entering the Olympics and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re first year you unfortunately didn’t place, second year you won the bronze, and this year you were aiming for the gold. Most of all though, win or lose you hoped that by the end of today you will have made contact with your soulmates.

While getting ready for today you had drawn little stars in various shades of purple around your eyes, making them resemble freckles. Drawing on your face was generally frowned upon, but when events that are going to be televised all around the world exceptions are made.

You tried to give them a hint to watch the Olympics today by drawing the Olympics rings and a TV, but realistically you knew there was no way they could watch the entirety of the broadcast. Even if they did turn it on they could very easily miss your appearance. The only thing you could do now was hope that the two individuals with matching purple stars were watching.

-

Ghost watched as every little star slowly appeared on Soap's face knowing that his face looked the same only that the stars on his face were covered by the mask. It wasn’t until Gaz walked in the office as well and asked about them did Soap even know they were there.

“What do you mean I have stars?” 

“Yeah on your face,” Gaz pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo before showing it to the Scot. 

“You knew they were there and you weren’t going to say anything?” Soap turns to face Ghost with a playful grin, “Well now you gotta take off the mask; I can’t be the only one walking around here with star freckles.” 

“In your dreams MacTavish.”

Gaz chuckles at the two of them before he sits down in an empty seat, “So I know you didn’t do this,” pointing to Soap, “and you definitely didn’t do this. Can I ask why lucky number three decided to do this?” Directing his question towards the lieutenant. 

“I assume it has something to do with the Olympics.”  

“Aye, they drew that symbol yesterday didn’t they. I guess that was their way of giving us a warning for this; must be for some kind of watch party,” Soap guessed.

“Sounds like my kind of party, the ice skaters are performing in just a bit and I don’t plan to miss it.” Gaz holds his phone showing them the Olympic broadcast already up on his phone before popping in one of his earbuds. 

“I didn’t take you for someone who would enjoy watching figure skating; all it is is watching people move on the ice innit?” Ghost questions, he’s never had any interest in the Olympics before. It was never something he had time to sit down and watch. 

“We can go to an ice skating rink ourselves, and watch Soap try to skate if you want to watch more chaotic skating.” 

“Oi, I didn’t even say anything, don’t go dragging me into this!” 

“You were gonna say something and that’s enough for me!” 

“Yeah yeah whatever,” Soap turns back to the paperwork he had been working on, “I’d like to see you try and skate. Let’s see who’s laughing then.” 

The men chuckle to themselves and all of them focus on items in their hands. It wouldn’t be until an hour had passed that the silence amongst them was broken. 

Gaz’s sudden gasp drew both Ghost and Soap’s attention to him. 

“What happened mate; a skater fell down?” Ghost asks with slight amusement in his voice. He couldn’t imagine himself getting this worked up over anything as simple as ice skating. Continuing to watch as Gaz doesn’t say anything; simply sitting in his seat with his mouth slightly hung open. 

“Gaz?” Soap questions as he steps towards him. 

Very suddenly Gaz shoots up and steps towards him as well, grabbing Soap’s face once he is close enough. Holding up his phone and looking frantically between the two. 

“Aye, wha’ the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Soap swats Gaz’s hand away from his face, “Didn’t your mum ever teach you about personal space.”

“Look!” 

Soap focusing on Gaz’s phone to see what had the man so worked up. On the screen was a woman dressed in purple elegantly dancing on the ice, but what really caught his attention was the fact that she too had purple star freckles on her face; ones that matched his perfectly. “Oh fuck; Ghost!” 

Ghost couldn’t believe what he was seeing for a moment. They had finally found their missing piece. Watching her dance and spin on ice he suddenly understood why people would enjoy watching this. She looks ethereal. 

Looking at Soap he sees an awestruck look in his eyes. He won’t admit but the stars are quite cute on him; on both of them. How on earth did he end up with these two incredibly beautiful and talented people as his soulmates? 

Later all three men are huddled together over the phone watching the award ceremony. The room had gotten embarrassingly loud when it became clear that you had won; Price had charged into the room asking them what had them all yelling for. He had luckily understood when the situation was explained by a sheepish soap, who was definitely making the most noise out of everyone. He was quick to get his energy back though once Price had left the room.

“We have to let the lass know we know we saw her!” Soap rushes to the desk pulling out multi colored pens; waving them towards Ghost. 

-

You had done it! You had really done it; the gold was yours! Standing on the first place podium next to the other medalist you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmates are watching you. You hope they were proud of you if they had seen your performance.

Trying to subtly check any exposed skin for any kind of sign or acknowledgement that you had been seen, and to your great delight you had been. The sun and moon had found their star. 

There on your wrist was a drawing of a gold medal and right next to it was a little black heart. 

They had seen you, they knew who you were. That thought both excited and terrified you. The only thing to do now was wait for them to show themselves; to find you. 

Stepping down from the podium, and making your way off the ice you give your wrist a kiss and wave towards the cameras.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

animal physiology once again knocking me the FUCK out

#im dying #send help #my brain is mush

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

i hate animal physiology

so much.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

i need john price to give me a hug. a big bear hug. IMMEDIATELY

#gods i know this man gives the best hugs #warm #cozy #and i KNOW he smells SOO GOOD #like fresh pine and mint and toasted caramel #john price #john price x reader

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

GODS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

gentle secrets

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Where once there was pain, now there's love. Or, you help Astarion create new, happier memories.

A/N: A soft little something, just like he deserves. <3

Masterlist

The peacefulness was a novelty. Between the 200 years of torment with Cazador, getting snatched by mind flayers, and traveling around with a group of weirdos, there hasn't been much time for peace in Astarion's life.

He reckons though, that this is very much close to it.

It was your first night with a proper roof over your heads, windows opened widely to allow the moonlight to shine through; he could hear the never-ceasing bustling of Elfsong tavern downstairs, but it was a muffled noise, carried away by the touch of your fingers that nearly put him to sleep.

The astonishing safety he felt around you was also a novelty. Astarion couldn't help it, your presence was alluring, and the softness that came with it all the more. You had a way of quieting his mind, dulling the ache in his chest. He never put much thought into why that was. This was new, this was delicate. Not yet labeled. All he knew was that he craved your presence more and more each day, and maybe this wasn't such a bad thing.

Like right now, with you resting on a proper bed, back against the headboard with a book in your hand; and Astarion laying on you, his head resting on your chest, eyes closed and muscles relaxed. One of your hands mindlessly played with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck, nails sometimes gently scratching his skin; and if he sighed contently with your touch, no one needed to know.

Yes, this could be his meaning of peace.

You'd sometimes hum a tune of some sort as you turned the pages. Astarion wondered if you knew you were doing it. Didn't matter, he liked the sound of your voice. He could picture your brows knitted together just a tad, as you focused on the words. The image brought a faint smile to his lips.

The breeze that came through the window was a chilly one, curtains flowing with it. Astarion snuggled closer. You were particularly warm; a comforting warm.

And then he felt it; your fingers traveling up his neck and steadily burying into white curls. You ran your hand through his hair, tangling and disappearing in between his soft locks. A harmless gesture, you weren't even looking away from your book.

But Astarion froze. A quiet, sharp breath came in through his nose and his muscles tensed, his body that was once slumped against you was now rigid and still. His eyes once closed in bliss were now open and staring blankly as the embers escaped the fireplace in the distance; waiting, expecting, dreading.

It was foolish, oh so foolish. You were not like them. He knew it, of course he did; yet his body still reacted outside of his control, a habit formed in the last 200 years.

He gulped back a tightness in his throat, wondering briefly if he was too broken to be repaired after all.

When you placed your book down beside you on the bed, Astarion's attention was caught. Your hand, still hidden in his hair, had stopped its movements.

"Star?"

The little nickname in your voice caused goosebumps up his back.

"Everything okay?"

Naturally, you noticed. What with his body tangled with yours, of course you would. But you knew him well too.

Astarion stole a glance up at you, with a small smile on his lips. "Of course, my sweet, everything's perfect."

You raised a brow at him, letting him know you didn't believe a word he'd just said, but you'd drop the matter if he so desired.

Not for the first or second time, Astarion felt like spilling all his secrets to you. He sighed. "Forgive me, darling, it's not your fault, it's just that- well-" He struggled, words stuck on the tip of his tongue. He felt… embarrassed, for some reason. He knew you'd never judge him, and yet…

The feeling of self-loathing and shame gnawed at his insides. Like when he'd still feel dirty after scrubbing his skin raw; or when he'd go for days still feeling the ghosts of unkind touches and grips squeezing the flesh of his thighs and waist; or when the roots of his hair would sting from being pulled on too roughly. In a farfetched desire, he wanted to keep those stains of his away from you.

Astarion pursed his lips and gripped the fabric of your shirt. He refused to meet your gaze. "Usually when people touched my hair it was to- it-" His mouth hovered, eyes glazing over with wetness.

Your free hand found his cheek, thumb brushing away a small tear. "I'm sorry, my star, I wish I could take those memories away." You paused, eyes roaming over his features. And not for the first time, Astarion was glad that you were able to decipher him so easily; that he subconsciously allowed you to, wanted you to.

"But if anyone ever thinks of doing anything like this to you again, I'll kill them myself."

You meant it, every word, and despite a watery chuckle escaping Astarion, he knew you did. Maybe that's why he nuzzled back into you, burying his nose even deeper into your neck, arms encircling your waist so you wouldn't go away. Or maybe he was just too overwhelmed with the affection you offered him so dearly, broken or not. Or was it the affection he felt for you that overflowed his dead heart? He couldn't tell. Either way, he felt like drowning in it.

The hand you had in his hair chanced a touch, "Let me love you," you offered quietly. So quiet that it would have been lost to the wind had you not been so close, your lips brushing his temple. "Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Astarion groaned weakly, hiding in you, eyes closing as he committed the touch to memory. The way your fingers brushed through the strands of white curls ever so gently, so tenderly, so lovingly; touching along his ear and tracing the shape of it. As if he was something worthy of devotion. Perhaps he could be, to you.

A breath escaped him, he felt cherished. "Please," he croaked, "Please do."

Your lips found his forehead in the softest of kisses, light as a feather yet as meaningful as a promise. You lifted his head with both hands then, slowly, all so you could place a kiss on his nose, and then his cheeks, and his eyelids that tasted just a tad salty.

You loved on him through the night, and every day after that too.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @asterordinary @nyushkawritesstuff

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

im going to need a price fic with Hozier's new song 'Sweet for Me' IMMEDIATELY

#john price x reader

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

RAHHH LET ME BE YOUR BACKPACK GHOST PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE

or if not, lemme be a riding buddy with my lil 300cc bike 😭😭

I can't stop thinking about Ghost with a motorcycle. The man dwarfs just about everything, but somehow he manages to find a nice either 600cc or 1000cc that fits him and he's set. He takes it everywhere, stares down cops and revs for the pretty things that wave at him from cars. All his gear is black, his helmet is tinted and he looks like a modern interpretation of death, but he also breaks to let turtles cross the road and doesn't let anyone on his bike without a helmet.

Backpacking for him is such a treat because he'll reach back and rub his hand along your leg at stoplights, tell you to "be good" every time you start squeezing somewhere you shouldn't. The man is a little bit of a stretch to get your legs around, but leaning against his back and watching the world whizz by is amazing. He always checks all your gear is on properly before starting the engine too, adjusting the strap on your helmet and bumping his black one against your more colorful one, helping you onto the bike even when you don't need it, and giving a little jolt forward to make you cling to him. The man knows what he's doing, and he's not going to risk precious cargo like you, but that doesn't mean you won't enjoy having you cuddled close and hugging him the whole ride.

He follows your directions every time you pat his leg to signal a turn, and stands around while you run into shops or up to ice cream vendors. What's he supposed to do? Say no? Not a chance.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

lil doodle i made of ghost for a tiktoker lol

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

its my first day of work and IDK WHERE MY COWORKERS ARE AND IM IN A SCHOOL GYM BY MYSELF AND I HAVE MADE AWKWARD EYE CONTACT WITH THE JANITOR (?????) LIKE 3 TIMES AND HELP ME

the shift started 2 minutes ago and IDK IF IM IN THE RIGHT OLACE. cause the coordinator was SUPPOSED to send me a pic of the door but she DIDNT and like i got into the building but MAYBE I WAS SUPPOSED TO GO SOMEWHERE ELSE AND IDK IDK RAHHH

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

ROSIE!!

finished this in a day, vs my lute one that took me like 2 weeks 😭😭 id say im learning :))

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin rosie #rosie #fanart

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

my first attempt at painting lute. and wrll, my first attempt at painting anything digitally really 😭

#lute #hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #RAHHH #painting is hard #this is as good as its gonna get #lol

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

this is pure liquid gold LMFAO, as someone who works customer service i definitely mutter curse words to the popcorn haha

Task141 friends au with reader as a coffee shop owner and them as normal office workers

Additional info (reader curses a LOT)

You have flower anon i will be your 💸 money anon

💸 here you go!

"No milk, please"

🧸 summary: anger management classes did NOT help you manage your shitty cafe job :(

🧸 cw: (not sure ? bad language!)

hi money anon! loved ur request sm thanks for the cash heheh <3 // not proofread

— "Humm...Do I wan'... the muffin..or the banana bread." You were almost certain that there was no possible way someone could be this indecisive. You were nearly seconds away from hoping across the counter and force feeding this mohawk'd fuck a stale piece of scone. However, you kind of needed this job since it kind of kept you alive.

"How about trying our new walnut banana bread?" You offered him with a pleasent smile. To which he dismissively waved a hand to shoo you off. You really hated your job, to be completely honest; not because of the work, but because of the annoying ass, office working, arrogant shits who came by every day during lunch to all fill up separate tables and glare at eachother.

It had started with the pretty blond with brown eyes, great eye candy, always wearing a face mask and sitting at his own private booth. Reading the paper or on some crappy looking laptop, a permanent frown always on his face. Well— almost always. Occasionally, when you came by carrying a coffee pot for refills, he'd smile just a bit when you refilled his cup.

He never really spoke much, so you always enjoyed his presence, sometimes even forgetting he was there. This lead to some embarrassing moments; such as that time you got on the phone with your landlord and told him to suck a cock. Yeah. Not super professional. But the guy never complained, even left a pretty nice tip.

After that event, some more office workers of a similar uniform would come by, giving you a nice steady income. You always wondered if he had something to do it with it, but you never had the chance to ask because—

"Hrm, yeah, 'scuse me, gemme that pret' lookin' slice of pie." Because the little mohawk'd bastard never shut the fuck up. His sparkling little eyes, ohhh they would've been so cute if he didn't seem to always find away to piss you off. Just as you cut up and brought the slice toward him he tutted. "Ah, nevermind, lemme get that bread you mentioned, please, bon'?"

"...Right away, sir."

Somehow his smile was apologetic, as if he could see you recalling the steps from the last time you took anger management classes. Your shaky hands sliding the slice of pie back and just as you were about to reach for the bread you halted. "Ah, just a moment please."

The man, thinking nothing of it, or his own actions, just smiled and stupidly nodded. His eyes following as you walked away into the backroom. For a few moments it was silent, maybe he could feel a familiar glare to his back, but that guy was always glaring.

"Ya pissed 'er off, Johnny."

"She was smili—" Johnny's sentence was completely disrupted by a loud said of bangs in the other room, followed by a series of curses that almost made Johnny feel like an innocent damsel in distress. A few steps back with his familiar pout taking place.

"Told ya." Simon snorted, sipping his coffee as if hiding his smug ass smirk. After a final thud from the other room, a set of footsteps signaled your return. Johnny was almost afraid to look, but he did anyways.

Greeted by your very warm smile, as you handed him a box of everything he looked at. "Please. Take it. On the house."

"Oh I have the money to—"

"Please. Take. It." By now he could hear the warning grit of your teeth. Causing him to reluctantly take the to-go box and sit next to Simon like a sad pup. You could finally breathe easy, focus your energy on letters of resignation you'd never turn in without anyone disturbing you.

Unfortunately, just as you picked up the pen, the bell of the door chimed, causing you to glance up curiously, both the men at the table going a bit rigid and sitting up. A man approaching, a suit of an office worker, yet somehow much more fancy. Ypu almost whistled, he looked loaded. Just enough to hopefully leave a big enough tip for you to call it a day (in your dreams, of course).

He approached with this smug ass strut, like he owned the very fucking dirt he walked on. His beard the perfect mixture of messy and well loved. He leaned against the counter with a sly grin, "Hi, love."

You almost rolled your eyes, you weren't a fucking teenage girl, you were a grown woman busting your ass off to feed the strange monster under your bed. You crossed your arms and very sassily smiled, your hip popping to the side as his brows raised just a bit, "Yeah, hi. How can I help you?"

"Hm." He almost spoke further but slowed himself, glancing up at the menu and back at you, "Yeah. Anything with no milk, please."

How fucking specific.

You took a very slow inhale before speaking again, "So...an Americano...?"

"Hm..no, not that." The smug bastard just smirked, scratching his mustache a bit and smoothing it back with a few strokes. Thoroughly enjoying pissing you off. You were just too easy to rile up, he could see it the moment your little hip popped to the side.

"Just..a moment sir."

It seemed this specific office of people were enough to make use of all that anger management therapy. Johnny stupidly adding as the door had just barely shut, "Ah, Price, I think you pissed her off."

BANG

"I FUCKING HATE THIS JOB!!"