The Little Bean*

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college student Ellie x fem reader barista

tags: strangers to lovers, Ellie rides a motorcycle(hehe), oral & fingering (r receiving) 

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Every small town has that one quaint little coffee shop that tourists flock to so they can post how 'aesthetic' and 'cozy' it is on their Instagram profile. Meanwhile, to the locals, it's the only place we're able to actually get a caffeine fix. At least that's how it was until a Starbucks rolled into town and took away our business. The Little Bean is still a local legend that holds memories dear to many. 

We still make enough to stay open, though hours have been cut and we work short-staffed most days during the morning rush on the weekends. Luckily, I never need to deal with that crowd because I always work the closing shifts. I've been working here since I was fifteen years old, eight years later and I still find myself working the same minimum wage job I did in the tenth grade.

Tonight is slow, most weekdays are. I have my textbook open on the counter and a piece of loose-leaf paper, taking down notes on George Vold and his group conflict theory. I hear the beep of the oven going off behind me, the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air like the burning of a candle.

I tie the apron into a bow behind my back then slip on the light blue oven mitts so I can take the tray out. There's nothing like the scent of freshly baked pastries, especially with the professional-grade ingredients that my boss provides. I place the cookies down on the corkboard surface next to the oven in order to let them cool, having learnt my lesson years ago when I scorched the marble counter with burn marks.

Turning to close the oven, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. A shadow moving in the darkness that is the café. "Hello?" I call out, unease wobbling in my throat.

"Good evening" A thick voice causes me to jump as a figure leans against the cash counter. I yelp slightly as I clutch the oven mitts to my chest with my heart pounding in my ears. The woman lets out a dark laugh, holding her hands up in defence with a beautiful smile. "My bad sweetheart didn't mean to scare you"

The woman wears a black leather jacket, leather gloves adorning her fingers and it seems like skinny jeans covering her legs. She has freckles painted along her cheeks like a connect-the-dots drawing, beautiful green eyes and the lashes to frame them perfectly. Her auburn hair styled half up, half down with bangs covering her forehead. Fuck she's gorgeous.

My heart rate stays elevated but lowers back to its normal spot in my chest, an awkward chuckle escaping my lips. "It's ok, I'm just tired and we don't normally have anybody this late" I throw my hair up into a bun while leaning over the counter. "What can I get you?"

The woman taps her fingers against the glass case that holds all of the pastries and sandwiches. "What do you have that isn't coffee?" She inquires, looking directly into my eyes with a sweet grin when the menu is right behind me.

I bite my lower lip and look down to the counter that I click my pen against, "Um- I mean- well" I feel my face flush as "we have a shit ton- I shouldn't swear at work, fuck- I mean frick" I rest my face in my palms and slowly peek up at her, "I'm exhausted, I'm sorry"

"Don't worry about it lovely, I've got all night" Her eyes glossed up and down, tongue darting out to run against her bottom lip into a smile.

I clear my throat and nod, standing up straight to gloss my eyes back to the menu. "We have a bunch of teas? Green, chai, mint, lavender, I even think we have some matcha in the back" I glance back as I twirl a loose strand of hair around my finger. "Any of that sound up your alley?"

sincerely, yoursWhere stories live. Discover now