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Au: Bakery/ Regular (timeskip)
Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, excessive swearing
Word Count: 2.6k+
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Looking back on your accumulated experiences and knowledge, you couldn't fathom why you had ever chosen to become a pastry chef. Sure the food tasted good, but having to do anything other than bake in the kitchen of your run-down home was proving to be a drag.
You'd spend mornings starting a 5am, hiding in the back of your first floor, staring at the cracking walls. At the same time, you worked on batches and batches of dough till your hands either felt like they were drowning in thick oil or were dried to the bone. Then, you'd get out of your kitchen while everything baked and wipe all the surfaces clean in case of chipping paint or falling chiprock that might have ruined your clean-up from the previous night.
Once the clock hit 8am, it was time to open your door, get all the freshly baked goods on display, and put on a brave face while customers waltzed in to grab their croissants and coffees before work. You'd get to breathe before and after lunch until 4pm. Then at 7pm, you cleaned the shop, closed the door, and worked on more dough that would wait in the fridge until the following day. You'd relax for a couple hours, sleep for five, then repeat it all again and hope that your building didn't collapse with you inside of it.
But hey, you made excellent croissants.
Due to your hefty schedule, going out was impossible unless it was for essential purposes. However, most of your ingredients could be bought in bulk without worrying about them going bad for a while, and you had a couple lovely workers that would go buy you anything else you might need. You hadn't even noticed that the store that had previously been next door had moved and been replaced until the owner of the new establishment came to knock on your bakery door a half-hour before opening.
You were wiping off some fallen pieces of wall from one of your tables when he appeared, body pressed against the glass door as he knocked and waved to get your attention. The sight of a shadow at your door made you jump.
"Eh! Asshole, don't do that!" You cursed, rushing to the door, towel and spray bottle in hand. "Your stained the glass!"
As you pushed it open, the man sprung back, jumping high into the air before dropping down and continuing to hop about. His white unbuttoned jacket bounced with him, flopping about.
Wiping the glass, furiously trying to get rid of the smudges left behind.
"Good morning, neighbour."
"Neighbour?" You glanced to the shop next door. "Since when?"
"I started moving in a couple weeks ago. Did Pierre not mention it?"
