REUPLOAD

word count: 3k

recommended listening: face to face by ruel

premise: every morning you get a peach tea before work, until someone starts making the same order as you

pairing: yoongi x reader 

inspiration: my literal love for peach tea and cute boys lol

»»———— 🍑 ————««

Peach tea and coconut chunks: it's what you needed to get through the day.

Sure, a little coffee never hurt and occasionally a nutritious meal could come in handy, but it was those two staples that your body never went longer than twenty-four hours without.

Part of you had considered detoxing, and your roommate, Jen, always told you that your teeth would one day rot from the sugar, but you figured that we're all dying anyway, so who cares?

Ever since moving to the city, you had been on the hunt for the crème de la crème of your chosen beverage. Some were too sweet, most were too watery, but you had managed to stumble on an almost perfect blend just a few blocks from your work.

So, each morning, you left 15 minutes early just to beat the queues and get your tea in time for clocking in. It had become autonomous for you, part of your daily routine and you were sure that you must have spent more money there than anywhere else in the city.

Heeled boots clicking as you walked, the sweet scent of your peachy pick-me-up wafting through the air, everyone knew it was you when you got to the office. It had become a bit of a running joke that you should open up your own little cafe.

"Girl, you must have peach juice running through your veins at this point," your colleague, Ali, would laugh to you, despite the fact she exclusively drank diet coke like it was going out of fashion. You'd call her a hypocrite and then you'd gossip about what you had planned at the weekend, pretending to do work whenever your boss walked past.

You'd been so rushed off your feet yesterday, what with deadlines and meetings, that you hadn't had the chance to slip away to your safe haven, not even once. It meant that you'd woken up this morning with a headache, your addiction well and truly showing it's true colours.

This groggy mindset had cast a grey cloud over everything you did. Your shower just wouldn't hit the right temperature and you had run out of conditioner rendering your hair dry and lifeless. The clothes you had been intending on wearing had been sat on by your cat and were covered in long white hairs. Any other day and it wouldn't have been a problem, but you had used the last sheet on your lint roller just the day before.

It was little things, like your eyeliner being uneven or your bra strap not hooking in place, that took up your time and saw you rushing out the door later than usual, hitting the rush hour flurry.

"Fuck's sake," you groaned through your gritted teeth, annoyed at yourself and the world around you. It was just not your day.

Yet still, when you saw that little neon 'open' sign, you didn't stop your feet from moving in its direction. You were going to be late, but it was worth it.

Your body operated without so much as a second thought. The staff there knew your order, hell, they had even considered just having one ready to go for 8:45 every morning by this point. The big bosses, however, wanted their customer service scores to go up, so they greeted you and asked about your day before asking you for your order, even though they already had it written on the cup.

"Peach tea to go!" The barista yelled above the ambient noise of the crowded cafe within minutes of you placing your order. You mindlessly reached out for it, a habit that had been months in the making.

You had expected to feel the smooth plastic against your skin, condensation already forming on it but instead, you felt silky warm skin - another hand.

"Uhm-" You began to protest at someone taking your drink, but were cut off abruptly.

"Think you'll find I ordered first," a mild, brooding voice informed you. You didn't believe it to be true, but you were so taken aback by it that you just stood there, mouth slightly ajar. The interaction was so fleeting, so sparse, that you couldn't register any of his details other than a soft smirk on his lips. "See you tomorrow, peaches."

With that, your drink stealing assailant turned his back to you and all you could do was pout as he wandered off and his mop of blonde hair faded into the busy rush hour street.

Asshole.

»»———— 🍑 ————««

"What a twat," Ali agreed with you as you ranted about your peach tea thief from earlier that morning. Sure, another tea was ready in minutes and maybe he had ordered first, but that was your cafe.

"And to call me peaches?! Who does he think he is?" You sneered at the memory, outraged that a random man had the audacity to address you like that.

"I hate boys," your colleague said with all the might in her tiny body. "Love them," she backtracked. "But hate them too."

You couldn't help but laugh, knowing exactly what she meant and feeling the same way too. The conversation quickly evolved and the rude start to your day had simply sunk to the back of your mind.

In fact, you had forgotten all about your cafe encounter until 8:47 the next morning, when you were stood in line, ready to order, and noticed the distinguishable blonde mop on top of the man in front of you.

Having caught your gaze in the mirror on the wall behind the cashiers till, he leant himself back a little, encroaching on your personal space.

"We've got to stop meeting like this." You could hear the smirk in his voice.

Twat.

»»———— 🍑 ————««

By the third morning, you knew what to expect. It's what made you set your alarm 5 minutes earlier and had you hopping out the door trying to zip your boots up, fearing that wasting too much time getting ready would cause you issues later.

It made no difference.

You were about four blocks away when you made out a familiar figure cross the threshold of your favourite cafe and automatically declared yourself defeated. "Fuck's sake," was all you could grumble in annoyance.

Knowing there was nothing to fight for, you slowed your pace and appreciated the morning sun that was beaming down on you. The only distraction was the clang of a doorbell ringing, as your peach-tea-stealer exited the cafe, drink in hand, heading in the direction he came from.

"Thank God," you muttered to yourself, however there was a noticeable twang in your stomach. You were feeling a little disappointed that you wouldn't get to butt heads with the mystery man again.

Pushing the strange feeling in your gut to the side, you swung the cafe door open and were almost immediately greeted by your order. Reaching into your tote, you rummaged around for your purse, but the cashier just raised a hand to stop you.

"It's already paid for," she smiled warmly, twisting the cup round to reveal a scribble on the back of it that simply said 'we should talk' followed by a series of digits - enough to form a mobile number. Seeing your confused expression, she simply added. "The blonde guy."

Your head tilted ever so slightly, not understanding exactly what was happening here. Why should you talk? All he had done in your few interactions was annoy you, so why actively choose to be more annoyed? It didn't make sense.

»»———— 🍑 ————««

"Can't tell if I love it or hate it," Ali pondered studying the handwritten note on the side of your cup once you got into the office. "Screams arrogant prick with a soft heart."

"No, it screams dude who doesn't realise that I just want to drink my tea in peace," you laughed, tapping away at your keyboard, trying to get through the mountain of work your boss had dumped on your desk.

"Any news on the new client?" Ali asked, making reference to the contract that the company had just won.

"Nothing yet, but I do believe we'll have a meeting in a week or so to go over promotional material," you sighed, thinking back to the short brief your boss had given you.

Working in a creative agency, you didn't know if you'd be coming or going from one week to the next. Last week, your main task had been creating branding for a new soup. This week, you were brainstorming ways to boost upcoming music artists on traditional social media platforms. Your brain never really stopped working, not when you clocked-out or even when you fell asleep. It was constant.

This new client was big money and therefore the whole team was being redistributed to it. All of your other clients were being rushed through or being put on hold for them.

"I hate how hush hush everyone is," Ali moaned. "Like realistically, who do I have to spill the beans to?"

The office was on edge a little, but it was exciting. You had been so caught up in it all that you had completely forgotten about the scribble on the side of your cup as you absentmindedly tossed it in the bin on the way out of your office.

In fact, your brain had been so wired on to your new client, that you didn't think about it until you were back in the cafe the next morning, picking up your daily dose of nectar. You waited in a daze until your order was called, before heading on your way to work.

You had barely left the cafe when the presence of a familiar stranger consumed your senses. Stood in front of you was the blonde man that you had begun to look for in crowds, and he had a smirk on his face that just begged for attention.

"You never texted, so, therefore, you owe me a drink," he said confidently, as if that was how real life worked. He took the drink from your hand and wrapped his lips around the straw, eyes locked on yours. He was looking for a competition and he had come to the right place. Petty was your middle name.

His cheeks began to swell, there being too much liquid for him to swallow it all, but he wasn't deterred. In fact, he kept going until his cheeks were the size of peaches themselves and all that you could hear was the empty suction sound of the plastic tube.

With one swift gulp, the remaining liquid sank down his throat and he let out a hearty "ah".

"See ya, peaches," he turned on his heels and swiftly walked away, empty peach tea cup in hand.

"Literally, what the fuck," you muttered to yourself, not exactly sure how to proceed after that.

»»———— 🍑 ————««

As the weeks rolled by, a friendly discourse brewed between the pair us. It started innocuously, him paying for your drink one day and you returning the favour the next. Sooner enough, even if you arrived at different times, there would always be one waiting for you - and vice versa.

For no good reason, he refused to tell you his name. "I know girls like you," he had said with narrow eyes and a menacing smile. "You're gonna fall in love with me if I tell you it."

"I don't think that's how love works," you laughed at him, like you found yourself doing a lot more recently. 

"You'd be surprised, peaches, love works in mysterious ways," he shrugged, alluding to something that you weren't really ready to comprehend. 

Your eyes trailed him as he walked away from the shop, an effortless swagger in the way he moved. He didn't falter in his steps, not even as he crouched down and placed the tea in front of the man who had been begging on the street. He didn't stop to hear a thank you or to feel validified for his selfless act. There was an ease to this, as if he had done it before.

When you watched him do the exact same thing the next day, and the day after that, you couldn't help but feel a slight tenderness in your very bones.

Perhaps he wasn't such a twat, after all.

You wouldn't hold your breath, though, just in case.

»»———— 🍑 ————««

You new client was a nightmare. For every good job that was done, they found a reason to nag and criticize, so it meant that you and Ali had been working overtime, desperately trying to keep them happy.

When Friday rolled around, Ali had declared her need for a tequila slammer four times by midday. By 8 o'clock, she had consumed six. 

You weren't too far behind her and the pair of you wound up in a downtown club within no time.

He was about four rum and cokes deep when he spotted you in the crowd through a maze of sweaty bodies and spilt drinks. 

"Peaches," his voice slurred, gaining your attention instantly. "That doesn't look like tea," he nodded with a stupid smirk towards your vodka coke.

"How would you know? You don't drink your tea," You shouted towards him, not sure if he would hear you over the bass. Dutch courage had well and truly ravaged your system and you were itching to answers. Thankfully, it had consumed him too.

"Have you been spying on me, peaches?" He giggled, the nickname he had christened you with making a welcome return to his lips.

"Not spying," you laughed. "Observing."

"Ah, of course, because they're so different," he said sarcastically, pouring more alcohol down his throat.

"So you admit it?" You pushed.

"Fine, fine," he held his hands up in surrender, shrugging his shoulders as he did so. It was as if once one truth slipped from his lips, he couldn't help but let the rest tumble out. "I hate the stuff, can't stand it."

"But you order it every morning?!"

He stuck his bottom lip out a little, nodding as if that made logical sense.

It made absolutely zero sense. You told him that. And he laughed.

"Macchiatos," his grin was as wide as a Cheshire cat's. "I drink macchiatos."

You moved closer to him. The tempo of the music had changed and it had become harder to hear him. He didn't think when he absent-mindedly pulled you closer, hand draped over your shoulders. You didn't think when your hand automatically snaked around his waist to reciprocate it. It felt casual, normal, natural.

"I used to sit on that big leather chair in the corner," he reminisced, slurring his words a little. You knew exactly the one he meant. It was right next to the window. "Every morning, every-single-fucking-morning, you would come in, get your tea and go." His eyes were like pinball machines flickering from the club lights. "And I'd do the same, with my macchiatos. Other faces came and went but you were always there, always. It kind of felt like we were fated to meet."

You had been waiting for the explanation of why he had been ordering peach teas, but it never came. Your drunk mind skipped over his admission and drew it back. "Yeah but, why order peach tea if you hate it so much?"

"You'd been coming to the cafe for months," His full attention was on you and you could feel yourself looking at him through your lashes, exaggerating your wide eyes. "Fate was taking too long, so..." He scrunched his face up. "So I decided to make my own."

»»———— 🍑 ————««

Unfortunately for him, fate had other plans. The endless slog that you and Ali had endured paid off, with a promotion not long after. A new contract meant a new city, relocating to head office and leaving your beloved peach tea place behind.

The transfer had been quick; a take it or leave it situation. You had left within the week, and not a single one of those days had your mystery peach tea man been there to greet you with a drink.

Within a couple of years, corporate had burned you out. Sucked dry of your passion, you were withering away, in desperate need of a sweet nectar to replenish your mind. 

You thought Ali had been joking when she said the pair of you should open up your own cafe. Your laughter doubled down when she suggested calling it 'Peaches & Cream.'

Yet a year later, you were stood behind a walnut countertop cleaning down the perspex cake stands that displayed Ali's incredible home creations. To the left of the old-fashioned till, which you had insisted on, much to Ali's annoyance, was a bowl of peaches. 

A tradition had been built up amongst your locals, where they'd pay for an extra order and leave the receipt pinned to the board, free for the taking. 'Peachy Promises', you called them fondly, and they couldn't help but remind you of the man who would pay for your tea.

Sorting through stock, your ears were alerted by the sound of the bell above the door ringing. 

"I'll be with you in a second!"

"No worries," a familiar voice broke you from the task at hand. Your eyes were on the door instantly, and more specifically, on the man who was stood just inside of it.

"What can I get for you?" You tried to disguise the tremble as you spoke, but the attempts were futile. 

His lips were ajar, slack from the surprise too. He hadn't been expecting to see you either.

You looked different now, a little older and definitely wiser than you had before. He looked weathered, but still just as handsome as he always had been.

"You know," he was slow as he spoke, unsure of himself. There had been one single reason why he had come into the cafe as he was walking past. "I've been craving peach tea."

"Huh," you smiled a little, the serendipity of the situation not escaping you. "I thought you hated the stuff."

"I do," he smiled now, a little nervous. "But I miss it, regardless."

It wasn't entirely clear if he was talking about the tea or not.

As you nodded, your teeth applied pressure on the pillow of your bottom lip and his did the same. Picking up a cup and a sharpie, you were poised to fill in a puzzle piece that had evaded you for so long.

"And what name should that be under?"

He smiled, his pink gums that you had missed so much gracing his face. He'd forgotten the stupid back and forth between the pair of you, and just quite how stubborn he'd been.

"Yoongi."

"Yoongi," you nodded, not once taking your eyes off him. He laughed now at the stupidity of it all, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "One peach tea coming up, Yoongi... To go?"

"No," he shook his head defiantly. "No, I think I'll stay."

a/n: the full story of this would have had yoongi being her client and him being an absolute dick lol