Cliché

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"Crafting Table Anyone?"

George

Tw: None

Notes: tHeY had sEgGs oN ThE cRaFtInG tABeL

Song: "Arms Tonite" By Mother Mother

GN!

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(Y/n) was this close to murdering somebody.

This close to taking a baseball bat and smacking those insufferable men upside the head.

But let's back up a bit shall we? It wouldn't be much of a story if we started out with a limp body and a bloody murder weapon now, would it?

(Y/n) worked at a fairly local shop for some reference. After getting out of the small little school they had graduated from, the young adult had sent out for an average paying job that would help get them on their feet for the meantime.

So when they had seen a flyer loosely taped to the side of the building talking about "Hiring Today!" at a nearby store, they had snatched the flimsy paper add up quickly and sent their information out by the end of the day.

All of this is why they were currently sitting at a pale checkout counter- bored out of their mind -as a faint song played in the background.

They had been analyzing the soft song as a pastime for the last couple of minutes. (It had been composed by a local musician who called himself Wilbur Soot they believed.) The guy wasn't too bad, and the lyrics about an E-Girl wasn't too pitchy for (Y/n)'s taste.

But of course, the tinkling of the shop's fateful doorbell had to ruin her moment of serenity.

Looking up, (Y/n) prayed to every known god that it wasn't one of those boys.

For some more background context, these boys I speak of are the reason our dear (Y/n) feels like snapping some necks. Every day since the beginning of this month, two guys had been coming in and annoying the every loving shit out of them.

They had resorted to calling them Smiley (due to the porcelain mask the first wore) and Arsonist (because of the fire emblem and insane glint in the others eyes.)

They'd come in, alone or together, and ask for a crafting table.

The first time was completely innocent. Maybe they had broken their own and simply needed a new one quickly. (Y/n) sent them on their way with a flawless customer service smile and fake cheer.

The second time was a bit more suspicious. Who needs two crafting tables back to back? Apparently these assholes. So (Y/n) gave them the same thing, but this time with a considerable dip in their mood.

Third time was the charm.

Smiley and Arsonist had come back for the third day in a row with cocky grins on their faces. Both of them asked for the same thing, but it was the way they asked.

Oh, damn was it the way they asked (Y/n) that made them fume.

Arsonist would lean over the counter in a sultry position while eyeing them up and down. He would bite his lip very noticeably before lowering his voice.

"You got a crafting table?" He'd whisper lowley. After (Y/n) would answer him with a bland 'yes', Smiley would make his move.

The hooded man would sling an arm around Arsonist while tilting his head up to purposefully expose a sharp jawline.