A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while. First of all, thank you so much for your kind reviews and PMs. It's very reassuring. So, just to clarify. The fandom is dying in terms of activity. I mean seriously, we're one of the most popular fandoms and we hardly support our authors! The update page has now become a graveyard in the past few weeks. It's just sad and embarrassing for authors who upload. It's also just embarrassing for the fandom in general! *CRINGES* Anyways, let's become a community again, yeah? :D

Thanks so so much for all of the recommendations! I'm still reading through some of them because I also want to leave a review myself.

Lemme just give a quick shout out to the user who gave me a blank recommendation (thou shalt go unnamed, you know who you are lol), and only commented about how my eyebrows are "on fleek". You sir/ ma'am are on the level of troll that I one day inspire to be :')

My first recommendation is the author "Amethystfairy1". I got in touch with the author and they're very sweet. If you do decide to check out their stories, they would recommend their story "Can't seem to recall"

Anyways, enjoy my lovely cinnamon buns. If not on mine, make sure to follow, favourite, and review other stories in this fandom. Let's become a strong fandom again. I have a large list of recommendations to filter through, but I'm still accepting more. Feel free to self-promote your own stories. I really don't mind :)

Take care and have a good day/ night

-Ella

Butter me up, why don't you?:

~Afternoon Shift~

Lovino's POV:

It was a slow afternoon. Matthew and I had spent most of our shift taking turns sitting at table ten, which if you guys haven't figured out already, had been permanently claimed by the Bad Touch Trio, my lame-ass boyfriend included.

I walked over to said table, clicking my tongue at Matthew, who sighed, realizing that his break was over.

Gilbert wrapped both arms around Matthew, tucking his chin onto the latter's shoulders. "You'll never take my Mattie alive!" he bellowed.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring Antonio's goofy grin to the left of me. Poor Matthew had been sandwiched between Francis and Gilbert on one side of the booth. Thankfully, Antonio had reserved a spot just for me on his side.

"Gil, honey, you're strangling me again," Matthew laughed, raising a hand to ruffle Gilbert's snow-white hair.

"C'est adorable!" Francis squealed. "Ah, young love~! I can practically smell the sex in the air."

Thankfully, everyone ignored this comment.

"Good! It's not awesome for you to leave without my permission," Gilbert pouted, looking up to shed me with a snarky glance.

I placed both hands on my hips and scowled right back at the pasty bastard. "If you're so clingy, why don't you help him serve tables then?"

Gilbert pursed his lips together, albeit not letting go of the now pink-faced Matthew. "Hmmmm. Liza isn't here, so I don't have to worry about airborne pans. Okay! Ja! That sounds awesome!"

Mathew weakly tapped Gilbert on the shoulder. "Gil," he wheezed with a squeak. "Oxygen! I'd like some, if you don't mind!"

Gilbert let go of Matthew, only to grab him by the shoulders and dramatically shake him back and forth. "NO! Don't you die on me, Mattie! We still have many Hamilton references to make in this story!"

Matthew smirked, 'falling dead' onto Gilbert's chest. "Who lives, who dies, who creates awful puns for this story~. Continue my sassy legacy…that would be enough…"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, we get it. You're both horny for Hamilton. Can I take my fucking break now?!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, crawling over Gilbert's lap to exit the booth. "You're such a buzzkill," he muttered.

Gilbert followed Matthew out of the booth, standing up to drape a casual arm over the latter's shoulders. "Don't listen to him, Mattie. Come, let's show him how real men serve tables."

I decided to let that last comment pass as I slid into the other side of the booth, knowing that Antonio would explode with affection in 3…2…1…

"LOVI~!"

CRACK!

I winced when I felt my already bruised ribcage crack indefinitely. Antonio pulled me into a hug, showering my nose and cheeks with many sloppy kisses. Francis' stupid 'honhonhon' laughter only added to my embarrassment.

I pressed a palm against Antonio's forehead, holding him back from kissing me further. His green eyes widened into a pout, and I sighed, letting go so that he could properly kiss me on the lips.

"One day, you're going to grow tired of me," I remarked.

"Don't say such a thing!" Antonio scolded me, grabbing my chin with one hand. "You're always full of so many wonderful surprises. I'll never get tired of reminding you how beautiful you are."

"Same goes to you bastard," I smirked. "Although, it is fun to insult you every now and then."

"Ay!" Antonio protested.

"Oh shut up, you know I'm only teasing."

Antonio and I pulled apart when we heard Francis gasp. And here I thought that he would be creeping on us like he usually did.

Francis slammed a hand against the table, his blue eyes wide with a look that I had never seen on him before. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. Wait, was he nervous?!

"It's him!" Francis exclaimed.

Antonio cocked his head to the side. "Is this 'the guy' who gave you that five-star on your left cheek?"

Francis waved his hand about impatiently. "Details, details," he mused, standing up from the booth. "I'm bringing him to sit with us."

Antonio and I didn't have much time to protest. Francis was gone in a breeze, his long blond hair effeminately billowing behind him. I wrinkled my nose when the scent of his rose perfume lingered in the air.

It wasn't long before Francis was dragging a blond-haired, green-eyed boy towards our booth. He was wearing a black blouse, horribly-designed tweed pants, and brown loafers to match. Oddly enough, he had several piercings on his face, ranging from his ears, his nose, and even his eyebrows.

I recognized him immediately as a student who was also from the creative writing program. The boy must have known me too because his mouth parted open in recognition.

Francis eagerly tugged on the boy's wrist.

"L-let go of me, you baguette-worshipping fiend!" the boy cried out, wildly thrashing his laptop case around.

I bit my lip to stifle my laughter. Only a writer would think of an insult as 'creative' as that.

"Shhhh, mon lapin," Francis cooed. "You should be thanking me. Now you won't have to sit by yourself and be lonely~!"

"I like sitting by myself, thank you very much!" the red-faced boy roared, before aiming a desperate look at the front counter. "Mathew! Oh thank God! I need your help! Help free me from this pervert!"

Matthew chuckled, crossing his arms. "Sorry, cuz. The blush on your face says otherwise. Why don't you enjoy yourself for once and stop pretending that you 'despise' company?"

The boy grit his teeth, faltering for a moment that gave Francis enough time to shove him into the booth. Francis was then smart enough to scoot into the booth, trapping the boy from the inside.

"Come now, don't look so sad, Arthur," Francis chastised. "Making more friends is a good thing!"

"Yes, yes, whatever," Arthur grumbled, looking up to meet my curious gaze. "Oi, I know you," he muttered. "You're in the creative writing program with me."

I nodded my head. "Si, the name's Lovino. Nice to meet you."

Arthur grumbled something unintelligible before unzipping his bag and placing his laptop onto the table.

"Hi!" Antonio beamed. "I'm Antonio!"

Antonio reached over the table to shake hands with Arthur, but the Briton merely looked at his hand as if it were covered in slime.

Antonio rescinded his hand, a confused frown forming on his face. "What did I say?" he bent over to whisper into my ear.

"Who knows," I whispered back. "He's probably just shy."

Francis smiled widely, playfully elbowing Arthur in the ribs. "Don't worry, Antoine. It takes Arthur a long time to warm up to people, isn't that right now?" he asked, draping an arm over Arthur's shoulders, only to choke when said Briton aimed an elbow to his stomach.

"Don't you bloody touch me!"

"See?" Francis wheezed. "He means well, but has a hard time showing it."

An awkward silence fell over the booth. Francis never kept his gaze off Arthur, who was trying his best to ignore the former. All that could be heard was the patter-patter of Arthur typing on his laptop's keyboard.

"So…" Antonio started.

Francis and I both looked up to Antonio with hope. If anyone could start a proper conversation, it was him.

"How do you feel about tomatoes, Arthur?"

I facepalmed, while Francis sighed in disbelief. "Mon Dieu," he muttered. "Could this situation get any more hopeless?"

For the first time in my life, I had to agree with Francis.

This conversation was going nowhere.

…

Arthur's POV:

And here I thought that my day couldn't have gotten any worse. First, I had spilled coffee all over my favourite jumper. Then, I had slipped on said coffee spill. With my motivation to write at home ruined, I decided to visit my favourite café on campus. It just so happened that my least favourite person on campus was always at said cafe.

Francis was an insufferably obnoxious bloke who for whatever reason was smitten with me. I didn't even attempt to make pleasantries with him. No matter how many times that I insulted and ignored him, he just kept popping up at the most inconvenient of times. Apparently, 'shut up, I'm trying to write,' doesn't stop him from incessantly blabbing his stupid froggie tongue. What? His voice was gravelly, but for the sake of ill humour, I'm just going to say that his voice sounds more like a croak.

As of now, I was doing my best to ignore Francis' pathetic efforts to hold a proper conversation with me. The couple across the booth, on the other hand, had given up entirely on speaking to me. Francis could really learn a lesson or two from them. They certainly had the right idea.

Thankfully, I recognized that Lovino fellow from my own program. He seemed nice enough. His boyfriend Antonio, on the other hand, didn't appear to be all that bright. Regardless, it was probably best if I kept my mouth shut and didn't say anything at all. Maybe then Francis would realize that I truly did prefer to be alone.

While the others conversed about irrelevant topics, I took a sip from the mug of tea that Francis had purchased for me. No matter, as I did consider myself to be gentleman, I would be the one leaving a tip. I refused to let that frog be one leap ahead of me.

…

"Well, I should probably get back to work now," Lovino muttered, standing up from the booth.

"Bye Lovi," Antonio whimpered.

Lovino rolled his eyes, pulling out a set of keys from his jean pocket. "Here," he said, handing the keys to Antonio.

"Feli's staying over at the potato's place tonight. Make yourself at home."

Antonio beamed. "Okay~!" he trilled. "When you get back, I'll have dinner ready!"

Francis smirked. It was time to finally set his plan into motion.

…

I looked up from my laptop briefly, only to inhale sharply when I realized that both Antonio and Lovino had left.

"What the hell?" I spluttered. "Where did they go?"

Francis raised an arched eyebrow at me. "Are you just realizing this now? They left close to half an hour ago."

I felt my face heat up. Dear God, I was sitting in a booth with Francis, alone, and I hadn't even realized it. Surely this couldn't be good. Now that Frog would think that I actually wanted to spend time with him, which I didn't, just to be perfectly clear.

I looked over at the front counter, spotting my twin cousin's smirking right back at me. Matthew grinned, cupping his hand into a heart. Alfred went for the more vulgar option by mouthing a fellatio. I scowled at them, woefully recognizing that they wouldn't be offering me help anytime soon. Blood related or not, those twats were both dead to me.

I quickly went back to typing away on my laptop. None of the words flowed or remotely made any sense, but I needed to distract myself. I still had a multi-chapter to finish, after all. I could always edit it later.

Francis sighed and hummed, glancing at me whenever I paused to think over my words. I stretched out my right hand, hoping to relieve it from the stiffness of a muscle cramp.

"Tsk! Tsk!" Francis tutted. "It appears that you've overworked yourself again."

I jolted when Francis grabbed my hand, rubbing my knuckles with his thumb. "Don't touch m-!" I faltered.

"Oh," I hummed. "That actually feels quite good."

Francis shed me with a grin wide enough to match that of the Cheshire cat. "But of course," he purred. "We French know how to please with our hands."

I was too busy melting under his touch to heed any attention to his perverted words.

I don't know how, but Francis had somehow moved on to massaging my other hand.

"Tell me, Frog," I murmured. "What is it about me that you find so interesting?"

"Hmmm, well. Your eyebrows certainly do give you…character," Francis answered. "I also have a thing for boys with a temper."

"Are you insinuating that I have a temper?" I asked. I glared at Francis, unknowingly proving his point.

"Non, non. You're wonderful," Francis drawled, rubbing my knuckles with his remarkably soft hands.

"Nothing says pleasant like being repeatedly berated with insults," he chuckled.

"Hmmmph," I sighed to myself.

"What do you like about me?" he asked.

"Nothing," I answered without hesitation.

Francis stopped massaging my hands. "Come now, certainly there's something!"

I turned my head, looking up to meet a pair of too blue-to-be-real eyes. My cheeks flushed slightly as I took in his sharp jawline, letting my eyes rake up again to the faint stubble peppering his chin. Now that I think of it, the stubble wasn't that bad. I mean, I've always preferred a cleanly shaven man, but with Francis, the 'beard' sort of just worked for him.

"Oh fine! You have nice eyes," I huffed, letting my eyes fall down onto the table again. God knows why I was continuing to speak with this Frog.

"Bon fils," Francis cooed. "I've never seen you be this nice to me before~!"

"I'll have you know that I'm a very respectable man!" I snapped. So what if I was sarcastic from time to time? It wasn't my fault that he was an intolerable pervert.

"Oui, I'm sure," Francis patronized.

"Don't you get crass with me!"

Francis shrugged. "It's unbelievable how easy it is to provoke you."

I let my retort fall short on my tongue when Francis cracked my hand, bringing on a new wave of pleasure and relaxation. I closed my eyes, letting Francis do his thing.

BEEP!

Francis sighed, delicately letting go of my hand before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

An irritated click of the tongue prompted me to ask him about it. "Something wrong, Froggie?"

"Non, well, I have to go," Francis mumbled, sounding convincingly disappointed. "Liza just texted me. She wants me to help her design new uniforms for the staff here."

Ah that's right. I think I remembered him mentioning something about how he was in the clothing design program. Then again, this was the first civil conversation that we had ever had together. I usually just ignored him most of the time.

"Well, go on then," I suggested. "You've distracted me long enough. I still have another 3000 words to write before tomorrow morning."

"Is this your way of saying that you'd like to see me again?" Francis mused.

"Since English is your second language, I'll be gracious enough to let that comment slide."

Francis didn't seem to be fazed by this retort.

"How kind of you," Francis said with a wink. He then grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips.

"Adieu, mon chou. I look forward to the next time we meet."

I rolled my eyes as he gracefully slid out of the booth. It was always the dramatics with this first-class pervert.

"Thanks for the hand massage and tea," I mumbled.

"It was my pleasure. Now I really must get going!" Francis smiled, turning his back to me. His navy-blue trench coat trailed behind him for extra effeminate flare.

"Try not to stalk me too much!" I called after him.

"Stalking, pursuing…I don't see ze difference!" Francis called over his shoulder.

"Bye now!" I hissed.

I hadn't realized that I was smiling until I turned back to my laptop, spotting my reflection in the blank screen.

"Bloody Frog," I mused to myself.