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meadowfics · 19 days ago

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caffeine addict

kang dae ho x f!reader

this fic is another addition to my 'kang family' series linked here

warnings: reader has a caffeine addiction. this is not major to the plot of the family series if you cannot relate, so do not worry! this is me being self-indulgent.

a bright morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting a soft golden glow hitting right on the espresso machine.

to you, its like the universe is leading you to a start in your morning routine.

the espresso machine is a sleek, expensive one jia surprised you with last christmas. it’s a far cry from the clunky industrial machines you used to wrestle with at your old job at the café years ago, but the familiar hum as it grinds the beans takes you back.

you’re measuring out just enough for a single shot.

it is self-imposed restraint, a promise to yourself and dae-ho.

one iced espresso, 12 ounces with a splash of milk and brown sugar, three mornings a week.

it’s progress, you remind yourself, compared to the days when you’d down eight shots, cold brews, and pour-overs at your cafe job like they were water.

you ran on those fumes and five hours of sleep.

maybe all of that was why you passed out on the evening you found out about seo-ah.

your espresso machine hisses, and the rich, nutty aroma of espresso fills the air in the kitchen.

you pour the shot over a glass of ice, watching the dark liquid swirl and settle, then add a splash of oat milk. your fingers linger on the glass, cool against your skin, and you smile.

this small indulgence is yours.

it’s a piece of the old you. aka the one who worked nine-hour shifts, seven days a week, at the café in itaewon where you first met dae-ho.

you don’t need the caffeine like you used to, not with seo-ah and byeol growing out of their sleep regression stages, but it’s still a comfort.

being hooked to caffeinated beverages was a part of who you were before the world turned upside down.

six years ago, before your lovely life and before the squid games, your life was different.

you were closing the café at 8 p.m., the neon lights of hongdae buzzing outside, the air thick with the smell of street food and the hum of late-night crowds.

you’d be wiping down the counters, your apron stained with coffee grounds, a 16-ounce iced americano in your hand.

you’d sip it slowly, the bitter chill keeping you sharp as you locked up the doors for the night.

dae-ho would be waiting outside, leaning against the wall in his dusty work clothes, his construction job leaving him tired but never too tired to meet you so you both could walk back to your shared apartment together.

the man's long hair would be messy, and he’d always tease you about the coffee.

“babe, it’s 8 pm.,” he’d say, raising an eyebrow as you stepped out with that half-filled cup in hand, “you really need that now?”

you’d laugh, locking the door behind you.

“we’ve got stuff to do when we get home,” you’d say, nudging him, “dishes, laundry, that shelf you promised to fix. I gotta stay awake.”

the two of you would walk back to your tiny studio apartment, your shoulders brushing as the city was bright around you.

it was small, that apartment. it was just a single room with a creaky bed, a secondhand couch, and a kitchen barely big enough for both of you to stand in at once.

at the time it was yours, and it was home then.

dae-ho would try to talk to you about the caffeine, his voice gentle but serious as he sat on the couch, watching you sort laundry with your americano still in hand.

“y/n, you gotta cut back,” he’d say, his eyes soft with concern, “you’re gonna burn out. or, like, your heart’s gonna explode or something.”

you’d roll your eyes, taking another sip.

“i’m fine, dae-ho. it’s just coffee. it keeps me going and its not like im doing real drugs right!”

he’d sigh, pulling you down next to him, his arm warm around your shoulders.

“too much caffeine still isn't good for you, love. j-just please promise me you’ll try to hold back, okay? for me? I know you work around coffee all day but maybe take a few sips of water to avoid crashing from caffeine withdrawals.. you get what I'm trying to say?”

you’d nod, leaning into him, knowing you meant it in the moment.

“I get what you mean,” you’d say.

“I'll try."

unfortunately two days later, you’d be back at it.

you would sneak an extra shot at work, telling yourself it was just to get through the shift.

dae-ho never pushed too hard. he’d just shake his head and kiss your forehead, calling you his “caffeine lover” with a laugh.

a year and a half into your relationship with daeho... the squid games came along.

you don’t think about it much anymore, not consciously, but the memories still linger like shadows.

you’d found out you were pregnant with seo-ah just a week before thanks to passing out at work from exhaustion and dehydration.

thankfully you’d stopped drinking coffee cold turkey, knowing it wasn’t good for the baby.

the timing couldn’t have been worse since the games were a nightmare andthe constant threat of death allayed pressed down on you.

the withdrawal.

goodness, the withdrawal.

the headaches were relentless, a pounding in your skull that made you feel like you were dying before the guards even had a chance to point a gun at you.

every muscle ached, your hands shook, and the fog in your brain made it hard to think straight.

you’d survived, thanks to daeho and the will you had from carrying seo-ah, but those days left scars.

now, though, you’re here.

safe.

home.

you take a sip of your espresso, the cold bitterness familiar and grounding.

the house is still quiet, the girls asleep upstairs since its only 7am, their soft snores barely audible through the baby monitor on the counter.

dae-ho’s still in bed too, probably sprawled across your side, stealing your pillow like he always does.

you smile at the thought, your heart warm.

you’re not the same person you were back then, running on caffeine and adrenaline.

you’re a mom now, a wife, a survivor.

the coffee is still part of you, even if you’ve tamed it.

after twenty minutes of reading one of your books, coffee in hand, while occasionally checking on byeol in the monitor, the floor creaks.

you turn to see dae-ho shuffling into the kitchen, his hair a mess, his sweatpants low on his hips. he’s wearing a black t-shirt, and you can’t help but grin.

“morning, sleepyhead,” you say, holding up your glass.

“want one?”

daeho yawns, rubbing his eyes, then smiles.

it is a slow, soft smile that still makes your stomach flip after all these years.

“only if you’re making it,” he says while stepping closer, “you’re the barista, after all.”

you laugh, setting your glass down to start another shot.

“flattery will get you everywhere,” you say, measuring out the beans.

“one iced espresso, coming up.”

he leans against the counter, watching you work.

“you and your coffee,” he says, his voice warm with affection.

suddenly, he walks up and comes directly behind you. the ex-marine's large hands hold your waist as he presses his front body against your back.

“i swear, you’d marry that machine if you could.” he whispers against your earlobe.

“don’t tempt me,” you tease, pouring the espresso over ice, “this thing’s been more reliable than you when it comes to keeping me awake in the morning.”

he clutches his chest, pretending to be wounded.

“ouch, babe. you know thats a lie, I've kept you awake for me in the morning ... plenty of times.” you caught a smooth hint in his voice as he speaks.

"don't get any ideas, big tiger... here," you hand him his glass, and he takes a sip, his eyes closing briefly.

“perfect,” he says, then sets it down to pull you into his arms again.

daeho's hands are warm on your waist, and you lean into him, resting your head against his chest.

“you know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your hair, “i’m proud of you. one coffee a week? your past self would've wondered how you were making it.”

you laugh softly, tilting your head to look up at him.

“it’s three mornings, not one,” you say while poking his chest, “don’t exaggerate.”

“still,” he says but his voice serious now, “you’ve come a long way. i know it’s not easy.”

you nod, your throat tightening.

he’s right since it hasn’t been easy.

it took finding new rhythms like better sleep, herbal teas, long walks with the girls to tire you out naturally.

dae-ho’s been there through every phase and every step, gently nudging you, never judging when you slip.

you lean up and kiss him, soft and slow, tasting the chocolate under taste from the espresso on his lips.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth.

“I love you too,” he says, pulling you closer.

for a while, it’s just the two of you.

the world is quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint chirping of birds outside while the sun still takes its time to rise.

around 8am the baby monitor crackles, and byeol’s soft babbling breaks the silence.

you both laugh, the spell broken but not gone.

“duty calls,” dae-ho says, kissing your forehead before letting you go.

masterlist

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liviawildrose · 1 month ago

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𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝟏

WHAT IS THE LYMPHATIC SYSTEM?

think of the lymphatic system as your body’s emotional janitor and drainage crew. it’s part of your immune system, and it does the following:

• filters waste, toxins, and pathogens

• moves lymph (a clear fluid) through your body

• helps circulate white blood cells

• absorbs fats from your digestive system

• balances fluids in your tissues

it’s made up of:

• lymph (fluid)

• lymph nodes (filter stations)

• lymphatic vessels (the pipelines)

• spleen, thymus, tonsils, bone marrow (support squad)

your heart pumps blood, but your lymph has no pump. it moves through muscle movement, breath, and manual stimulation. no movement = no drainage = sluggish, bloated, toxic vibes

WHAT IS LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE?

lymphatic drainage is the process of stimulating lymph flow to help it do its job faster and more efficiently. this can be done manually with massage or with tools/devices. it’s like giving your internal plumbing system a nudge.

benefits?

• reduced swelling/inflammation

• glowing skin

• decreased bloating

• boosted immunity

• improved healing post-surgery

• less brain fog

• reduced cellulite appearance

• de-puffing (hello, snatched face + jawline)

WHY YOUR LYMPH SYSTEM LOWKEY RUNS YOUR LIFE

when your lymph is stagnant, it doesn’t just affect your body it affects your mood, energy, skin, digestion, even spiritual flow. (yes, your energy field has drainage, too.)

poor lymph flow can lead to:

• chronic fatigue/ laziness/ procrastination

• frequent colds/infections

• puffy face or limbs

• brain fog

• digestive issues

• poor healing

• acne + skin flare-ups

• fibromyalgia or pain syndromes

this is your sign to stop ignoring your lymph.

SIGNS YOUR LYMPHATIC SYSTEM MIGHT BE CONGESTED

• you wake up puffy AF

• you get sick a lot

• your skin looks dull or acne-prone

• you always feel bloated or heavy

• your eyes feel heavy/tired

• you have sinus issues

• your underarms or groin feel tender (lymph node overload)

• water retention that won’t go away

TYPES OF LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE

A. MANUAL LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE (MLD)

• slow, rhythmic, skin-stretching strokes

• developed by Dr. Emil Vodder

• done by trained therapists or at home

• moves lymph from extremities toward nodes

B. MECHANICAL DRAINAGE

• compression suits (like Normatec)

• vacuum suction (like LPG Endermologie)

• electric rollers + vibration plates

C. INTERNAL (NATURAL)

• breathwork

• rebounding (trampoline bouncing)

• dry brushing

• sauna/sweating

• hydration

• movement & inversion yoga

HOW TO DO MANUAL LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE AT HOME

PREP:

• be well-hydrated

• be relaxed (stimulating lymph in stress = nah)

• use a dry brush or clean hands

FACE:

1. start at collarbone, gently massage down and out

2. jawline → ears → down neck

3. under eyes → temples → down sides of face

4. forehead → temples → behind ears → down neck

5. always drain downwards toward collarbone

BODY:

1. start at armpits

2. stroke down from arms to armpits

3. belly massage in clockwise circular motions

4. groin lymph massage with gentle circular movement

5. legs: ankles upward to thighs, ending at groin

tip: Always go from distal to proximal, meaning far-to-close to the heart. And be gentle lymph is superficial, you don’t need deep pressure.

DEVICES THAT CAN HELP

for the face:

• gua sha (natural, ancient, sculpting goddess magic) (i use this)

• jade rollers (cooling and de-puffing)

• Foreo Bear or NuFace (microcurrent tools)

• ice globes (i use this)

• vibrating massagers (i use this)

for the body:

• dry brushes (firm bristle brush for exfoliation + flow) (i use this)

• lymphatic paddle boards (i use this)

• compression boots (used by athletes + lymphatic clinics)

• vibration plates (you stand and it shakes your lymph awake)

• infrared sauna blankets

• LPG Endermologie machines

LYMPH-FRIENDLY LIFESTYLE HACKS

FOODS:

• raw fruits (pineapple, berries, citrus)

• leafy greens

• ginger + turmeric

• dandelion root

• seaweed

• chlorella + spirulina

• omega-3 rich foods

HERBS:

• red clover

• cleavers

• echinacea

• astragalus

HABITS:

• drink water (especially warm lemon water)

• move daily (walk, yoga, stretch)

• alternate hot + cold showers

• dry brush before shower

• rebound on mini-trampoline

• sleep well (drainage is boosted in deep sleep)

LYMPH + BEAUTY

• lymphatic drainage de-puffs the face like magic

• stimulates collagen production

• clears breakouts by boosting detox

• reduces dark circles

• tightens jawline and cheekbones

• boosts skincare absorption

SPIRITUAL + ENERGETIC LAYER

in many healing traditions (like Ayurveda, TCM), lymph = life fluid. congestion = blocked emotional energy

blocked lymph = blocked creativity, blocked intuition, blocked glow.

draining the lymph = restoring your internal flow, your connection to Self, Source, and spirit.

you wanna shine? clear your waters.

HOW OFTEN SHOULD YOU DO LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE?

• face: daily or every other day

• body: 3x a week minimum

• post-op: depends on doctor’s advice

• vibration plates/compression boots: 15–30 mins a few times a week

CONTRAINDICATIONS + SAFETY

don’t do lymphatic drainage if:

• you have active cancer

• you have infections or fever

• you have blood clots or deep vein thrombosis

• you are pregnant (only do under supervision)

• you’ve had heart or kidney issues (speak to a doc first)

always listen to your body. gentle is good. pain is not.

FINAL WORD

your lymphatic system is like your inner spa therapist, immune defense squad, and emotional sponge rolled into one. don’t sleep on it.

if you want:

• snatched cheekbones

• less puffiness

• glowing, radiant skin

• fewer colds

• balanced moods

• deep detox

• emotional flow

then lymphatic drainage isn’t optional. it’s essential. give your body the love, movement, and flow it deserves.

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ramblings-in-imagination · 7 days ago

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Too Much Like Dean

The hunt had been rougher than usual. A nest of ghouls, tucked away in an abandoned meat-packing plant outside of Tulsa. The three of you had taken them down, but not without a price. Sam had a dislocated shoulder and a nasty gash along his ribs, and Dean — Dean’s knuckles were torn up and there was a deep cut across his collarbone that needed more than the butterfly bandage he’d slapped on in the Impala.

So when you felt the burn under your jacket — the sting of claws raking along your side, just under the ribs — you bit your tongue. You’d seen Dean wince every time he turned the wheel. Sam was pale, fighting to stay awake in the backseat. You told yourself it was just a scratch.

You could handle it. You were a Winchester, weren’t you?

You’d made it through the night at some cheap motel — the three of you holed up in a room that smelled like stale cigarettes and old coffee. Dean had knocked back two fingers of whiskey and passed out half-upright against the headboard. Sam crashed on the other bed, his injured arm splinted up with duct tape and half of the motel’s ice machine.

You’d slipped into the bathroom to peel your shirt away from the wound. It was worse than you’d let on. The gash ran jagged across your side — maybe three inches long, deeper at the center. You’d cleaned it best you could, pressing a wad of gauze against it and wrapping it tight. *It’s fine*, you’d told your reflection. *They’re worse off. Dean would do the same.*

The next morning, the room was cold. Dean was up first, pacing in jeans and boots, rummaging for coffee filters. Sam was awake but barely upright, groaning every time he shifted.

“You okay, kiddo?” Dean grunted at you over his shoulder, one eye squinting at the coffeemaker like it had personally wronged him.

“Peachy,” you lied. Your voice sounded normal enough. You didn’t trust your legs when you stood, though — the floor tilted a little too far left. You chalked it up to no sleep.

You helped Sam sit up, fetched him water, argued with Dean about whether he needed stitches himself. All the while, your side throbbed under your flannel. The bandage was warm — too warm — and every step tugged at the raw edge of the wound.

Dean didn’t notice at first. He never did when he was too busy playing mother hen to Sam. He brewed terrible motel coffee and barked at you to go grab more ice for your brother’s shoulder. You nodded, grabbed the ice bucket, and stepped into the morning sunlight.

That’s when the world tilted.

You made it as far as the walkway outside the motel door before your vision went white at the edges. The cold wind hit you like a slap — and the next second your knees buckled. The bucket clattered to the cracked concrete.

The door swung open. Dean’s boots hit the concrete fast — he caught you halfway down, arms under your shoulders before you face-planted into the ice machine.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! Hey!” His voice cracked with panic, half-bark, half-beg. “Hey, sweetheart, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You tried to speak but the words stuck. Dean’s hand pressed to your back — that’s when he felt it: the damp warmth bleeding through your flannel. He pulled his palm back — dark red smeared across his fingers.

“Son of a — Sam! Sammy, get out here, now!”

Dean eased you down, cradling your head against his thigh. Sam stumbled out, good arm hugging his ribs, eyes wide when he saw the blood.

“She’s bleeding out — how the hell did we miss this?” Dean barked. His voice broke at the edges — panic under the anger. He peeled back your shirt, cursing when the soaked bandage pulled away in strings.

“Did you even clean this? Jesus, kid — you didn’t tell us?”

Sam crouched beside you, pressing his hand to the wound, careful but firm. “She must’ve been hiding it. She’s too much like you, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Don’t pin this on me, man — help me!”

“I am! Get the med kit — now.”

Dean bolted back inside, came back with the battered green duffel you’d patched up a hundred times. He tossed it open on the concrete. Sam checked your pulse — too fast, too thready.

“BP’s dropping — she’s hypovolemic. We need to irrigate and close it,” Sam said, voice shifting to that calm, terrifying doctor mode.

Dean’s hands shook as he cracked open a saline flush. “Stay with us, sweetheart. C’mon. Open those pretty eyes. If you wanted more attention, you could’ve just asked, huh?”

You managed a weak, pained laugh — half a breath, half a sob. “Didn’t wanna… whine…”

Dean’s eyes burned as he pressed a clean gauze to your side, applying just enough pressure to make you hiss. “You’re allowed to whine, especially when you’re bleeding out on my watch.”

Sam prepped the suture kit. “This is gonna hurt like hell.”

Dean squeezed your hand so hard it almost hurt more than the wound. “Good. She deserves it for scaring me this bad.”

When you came to, the world was fuzzy but bright. Dean was perched on the edge of your bed — your actual bed, back at the bunker now, the hunt days behind you. Sam was asleep in the armchair, drooling on an old book.

Dean brushed your hair back with a gentleness that didn’t match his gruff voice. “You scare me like that again, I’m bubble-wrapping you, you hear me?”

You cracked a smile, throat dry but warm. “Love you too, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, but his hand didn’t move from yours. “Next time you’re hurt, you tell me. Got it?”

You nodded, fighting sleep again. “Got it.”

And for once, Dean let you drift back under — safe between the two people who’d drag you back from hell itself, just like you would for them.

A few days passed. The bunker was quiet, for once. Dean hovered like a ghost — checking your bandages, forcing you to drink that god-awful protein shake Sam swore by, half-joking that you’d lost too much blood to live on pizza alone.

The stitches Sam put in held — mostly. You winced every time you turned too fast, but you laughed it off when Dean barked at you to stay in bed. Stubborn, just like him.

By day four, the fever hit.

At first, it was subtle — you felt chilled under two blankets, sweat dampening your hairline. Dean noticed it before you did. He pressed a hand to your forehead and swore under his breath.

“You’re burning up. Dammit.”

“Probably just… healing,” you rasped. You hated how weak your voice sounded.

Dean didn’t buy it. He called for Sam, who shuffled in with his laptop tucked under his good arm. He read your vitals like a field medic — pulse too fast, temp creeping over 101.

“Let’s see the stitches.” Sam’s voice was calm, too calm. He peeled back the edge of the gauze. The skin around the wound was red, swollen, hot to the touch.

“Infection,” he said flatly. “We need antibiotics, now”.

Dean’s jaw ticked. “We don’t have any more broad-spectrum — used the last of it on my shoulder.”

“I’ll go,” Sam said, already reaching for his coat. “There’s a 24-hour pharmacy two towns over. I’ll grab enough to run a full course IV.”

Dean didn’t protest. He squeezed your shoulder as Sam disappeared out the bunker door. “You hear that? Sammy’s got you. Just stay awake for me, yeah?”

Hours blurred. The fever climbed — 102, then 103. You drifted in and out, shivering, sweat soaking your collar. Dean sat next to you with a wet rag, wiping your forehead, his hand shaking every time he checked your pulse.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You don’t get to tap out. I’ll never let you hear the end of it if you do,” he half-laughed, half-growled.

Your breath hitched — shallow, ragged. “Dean… s-sorry…”

His chest cracked open at that word. He grabbed your face, forcing your blurry gaze on his. “Don’t you apologize, This is on me — should’ve seen it sooner. Should’ve—” His voice broke. He pressed his forehead to yours. “Just don’t quit on me.”

The door slammed open — Sam, back with two white paper bags and a look of grim focus. He dropped everything on the table, snapping on gloves. “IV line — now. Dean, help me roll her.”

Dean’s hands were steady for once — gentle as they shifted you just enough for Sam to find a vein in your arm. The needle slipped in, tape pressed down, a clear line trailing to the antibiotic drip.

“Vancomycin and fluids,” Sam muttered, checking your pupils with a penlight. “BP’s dropping. We might have sepsis setting in.”

Dean paled. “Sepsis? She’s gonna—?”

“Not if we catch it,” Sam snapped. He didn’t look up. His voice softened when he added, “She’s strong, Dean. She’s you — remember?”

The monitor on the nightstand — a borrowed handheld pulse ox Sam kept for hunts gone bad — beeped out your oxygen sats. They dipped: 91… 89…

“Why’s she breathing like that?” Dean asked, voice edged with panic.

“Fever’s spiking, she’s going tachypneic. Probably septic shock brewing,” Sam said, pushing more fluids through the line. “BP’s 85/50 — we’ll need vasopressors if she doesn’t respond.”

Your eyes flickered open — glassy, unfocused. “De…an… Sam…”

Dean’s hand closed around yours so tight it hurt. “Right here. Right here”.

Sam’s jaw clenched as he switched out the IV bag for a bolus of saline. “C’mon, kid — fight like a Winchester. You got it in you.”

The bunker hummed with quiet terror — the overhead lights buzzing, the only sound besides your labored breathing and Dean’s low, constant murmur of Stay with me, stay with me.

Sam watched the monitor numbers like they were a prayer. The antibiotics worked slow, too slow.

Your pulse stuttered once — twice. Dean’s whole body went rigid.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.” His voice was raw, hands framing your face, his thumbs catching a tear you didn’t know you’d shed. “You don’t get to check out on me. Not you. I’ll drag your ass back myself.”

Your chest rose — shallow, rattling — then fell again. But this time the rhythm held. A beat later, the BP monitor flickered up by two points.

Sam exhaled — a shaky, broken sound. “She’s stabilizing. The meds are working.”

Dean’s shoulders shook as he let his forehead drop to the back of your hand. “Too much like me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Stupid, stubborn kid.”

But when you blinked up at him — still pale, still burning with fever, but fighting — Dean laughed, wet and raw, and pressed his lips to your knuckles like a vow.

“You’re gonna be okay. You hear me? You don’t get to leave, kid. You’re stuck with me.”Absolutely — here’s the final piece, with another scare during recovery, more real medical detail, and that raw Winchester family love that always drags them through hell and back.

Two days later, you were still tucked into your bunker bed, a jumble of blankets and IV lines and gauze tape. The fever had broken but left you wrung out, your skin clammy and your body aching like you’d gone twelve rounds with a werewolf — which wasn’t that far off.

Dean hovered at your bedside like a grumpy mother hen. Sam drifted between the library and your room, reading medical articles and double-checking your vitals every few hours like he didn’t trust the world to keep you breathing on its own.

You were awake more now, enough to roll your eyes when Dean tried to spoon-feed you soup. Enough to sass Sam about the *nasty* probiotic drink he’d forced on you. Enough to almost feel human again.

But recovery was never a straight line for Winchesters.

It happened late that night. The bunker was quiet except for the hum of the old ventilation system. You’d dozed off after managing to eat half a sandwich Dean grilled for you — the best you’d tasted, even if it was charred on one side.

Dean sat slouched in the chair next to your bed, boot propped on the edge, chin dipped to his chest. He hadn’t left the room in hours. Sam was half-asleep at the table, a medical textbook drooping in his good hand.

You woke with a shiver. The sweat was back — hot, clammy, wrong. You shifted under the blanket and felt the tug — the sharp, biting pain in your side. When you pressed your fingers to the gauze, they came away wet. Sticky. Dark.

You swallowed down the sudden rush of nausea. Your head felt too light, your vision pulsing at the edges. “Dean…?” you rasped, but it came out more like a whimper.

Dean’s eyes snapped open. One look at your pale face and the red smudge on your fingertips and he was wide awake, hands already pulling back the blanket.

“Shit. Sam!” Dean barked, voice rough with sleep and terror all at once. “She’s bleeding again!”

Sam jolted awake, nearly toppling his chair. He crossed the room in three strides, ripping the tape away from your old bandage. Blood seeped around the stitches — fresh, bright, more than before.

“Looks like the wound dehisced — stitches tore,” Sam said grimly. He pressed a gloved hand over it, firm enough to make you gasp. “Could be a pocket of infection or a vessel that reopened.”

Dean’s jaw clenched so hard you could see the vein pop in his neck. “Fix it. Now.”

“I will. But you need to calm her down or her BP’s gonna tank more,” Sam snapped back.

Dean cupped your cheek, trying to catch your drifting focus. “Hey — hey, sweetheart. Eyes on me. You’re okay. Sammy’s got you. Just keep breathing.”

Your teeth chattered as a tremor ran through you. “Cold… ‘m cold…”

“Hypovolemic response,” Sam muttered under his breath, grabbing a fresh IV bag. “Dean, lift her side — I need to pack this. If she goes hypotensive we’ll have to give her more fluids.”

Dean’s arm slid under your shoulders, propping you up while Sam worked. You flinched when the antiseptic hit raw flesh — a sharp, breathless cry muffled against Dean’s chest. He hushed you through it, fingers tangled in your hair, rocking you like you were six years old again, trembling after a nightmare.

Sam’s hands moved fast — sterile packing, fresh sutures, fresh gauze. He worked under the dim yellow lamplight, brow furrowed in that way he got when he wouldn’t allow himself to panic.

Finally, he tied off the last knot, checked your pulse at your wrist, then let out a tight sigh. “Bleeding’s controlled. BP’s low but stable. She needs fluids and sleep — and *no more getting up without help,*” he growled at you, voice rough but soft at the edges.

Dean shot him a look that could have curdled milk. “Like she’s getting out of this bed for the next damn week.”

You managed a small, exhausted laugh that turned into a wince. “Bossy…” you rasped.

Dean leaned in, forehead bumping yours. “Damn right I’m bossy. If you scare me like that again, I swear I’ll lock you in the bunker’s panic room until you’re thirty.”

Sam huffed a wet laugh, already draping another blanket over you. “You’ll heal. Might need the doc to check for abscess once you’re stronger. But you’re here. That’s what matters.”

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy again. Dean’s hand curled around yours, anchoring you to the warmth of the bunker — to the promise that no matter how many times you fell, they’d drag you back.

“Dean… Sam… love you…” you mumbled, half-gone already.

Dean squeezed your hand, voice ragged but certain. “Yeah, kid. We know. We love you more. Now sleep — you’re safe.”

Outside the small circle of lamplight, the bunker hummed — the old pipes, the low groan of air through the ducts — a heartbeat that matched the three of you, stubborn and relentless.

Family. Bleeding, bruised, stitched together. And still here — no matter what.

#supernatural imagine #supernatural x sister! reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader

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se-sissy-lina04 · 1 month ago

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Sissy’s Masterlist:

CT-Cassa: The great water crisis

Trigger:

Echo is taking a shower. Suddenly: "Pffffft-clunk." No water.

In the kitchen: Fives turns the tap – nothing.

Boil is in the middle of watering his plants.

In the washing machine: Hardcase screams because his favorite shirt gets stuck half-dry.

Panic spreads.

8:00 AM – Hallway-wide announcement

Fox is standing in front of the intercom on the ground floor.

His tone: strict.

"Water supply is interrupted in corridors 501st, 212th, Guard, Wolfpack, and all specialist corridors. No panic. No unnecessary movements.“

Hardcase: "I'M ALREADY IN A PANIC!"

8:10 AM – The realization

Kix (notoriously thirsty): "I... I need water. Now.“

Boil: "I need to water my plants."

Rex: "We need to ration ourselves.”

Clones = no water. 10 hallways = dry as Tatooine. Nervous breakdowns = in sight. You? Have no idea.

You:

make yourself a tea.

take a long shower and hum while doing so.

fill Mephisto's bowl.

water your plants.

blow up a green-blue kiddie pool on your small terrace.

Mephisto sits at the edge wearing sunglasses.

You dip your feet in and say: "That was the best impulsive online order of my life."

Meanwhile: In the hallways

Jesse is dying of thirst.

Fives secretly washes his hair with disinfectant gel.

Cody wrote an Excel spreadsheet about "water priorities."

Wrecker drags empty canisters down the hall.

Fox tries to sweat with dignity. Fails.

Tech: "Sensors show... moisture within a 20-meter radius."

Hunter: blinks "There." Scent of mint. And... chlorine?

Day 1 – Realization and Denial

Rex starts the day calm. “It’s just a temporary pipe issue. Maintenance’ll sort it.”

Kix is already sweating and furious: “I have medicinal needs. People will dehydrate.”

Fives, lying dramatically on the lobby floor: “This is how I go. Not in battle, but in a dry hallway. Tell my caf mug I loved her.”

Cody tries to rally the 212th: “No problem. We’ll ration. Focus. Breathe.” He sweats through his armor within 10 minutes.

212th improvises: they water their plant balcony with leftover shower buckets. The plants now get more hydration than the troopers.

104th keeps it together. Wolffe orders silent endurance. They begin conserving water like it’s a battlefield resource—measured sips, shared mist-sprays, minimal movement.

501st? Chaos. Jesse steals a melting bag of ice from the common freezer. Tup tries to make a cooling scarf out of wet socks. Hardcase starts a “Water War Journal” in crayon on the hallway wall.

Day 2 – Delusion and Meltdown

Clone group chat is pure heat-fried chaos:

“Rex declared martial law on the third floor.”

“Boost is hallucinating a rain god in the wall vent”

“If I hear Fives say ‘oasis’ one more time I’m kicking him down the stairs.”

Fives organizes a funeral for the last remaining ice cube in the building. Everyone attends. It’s emotional.

Jesse proposes building a distillation rig out of a dehumidifier and caf filters. It doesn’t work. Kix yells at him. They fight with wet dish towels.

212th tries a “guided hydration meditation.” It ends in tears and cactus theft.

Coruscant Guard posts signs: “WATER IS A LUXURY. DON’T ASK.”

Fox drinks from his helmet’s cooling system in front of everyone just to assert dominance.

Day 3 – Feral Mode

Rex hasn’t slept. He’s set up a “hydration checkpoint” with strict rations: 3 sips per clone. No exceptions.

Cody is no longer rational. He’s bargaining with plants. “Give me one drop of condensation and I’ll give you my spare armor.”

Tup starts seeing mirages. “Zee’s floor looks…sparkly.”

Kix starts measuring clone eye moisture as a last hydration source. “If you cry, I will harvest it.”

Wrecker: “You all look like roast nuna birds.”

Tech: “Statistically, you will begin to hallucinate within the hour.”

Crosshair: “I don’t sweat. You’re all weak.”

Hunter drinks recycled water from his own boot filter. Everyone screams.

Meanwhile… You

Just vibing.

Cold shower. Cold caf. A misted plant. A small fan.

You open your door one morning and find Fives on your welcome mat, whispering “Evaporate me” to your doormat.

Cliffhanger Moment

Jesse, passing your open kitchen window, hears a sound. A tap. Running water.

He freezes. Turns slowly. Drip. Drip. Drip.

His face goes pale. Then red. Then he screams:

“THE CIVVIE HAS WATER!”

Cue dramatic clone stampede. End scene.

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willowwindss · 3 months ago

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100 Inventions by Women

LIFE-SAVING/MEDICAL/GLOBAL IMPACT:

Artificial Heart Valve – Nina Starr Braunwald

Stem Cell Isolation from Bone Marrow – Ann Tsukamoto

Chemotherapy Drug Research – Gertrude Elion

Antifungal Antibiotic (Nystatin) – Rachel Fuller Brown & Elizabeth Lee Hazen

Apgar Score (Newborn Health Assessment) – Virginia Apgar

Vaccination Distribution Logistics – Sara Josephine Baker

Hand-Held Laser Device for Cataracts – Patricia Bath

Portable Life-Saving Heart Monitor – Dr. Helen Brooke Taussig

Medical Mask Design – Ellen Ochoa

Dental Filling Techniques – Lucy Hobbs Taylor

Radiation Treatment Research – Cécile Vogt

Ultrasound Advancements – Denise Grey

Biodegradable Sanitary Pads – Arunachalam Muruganantham (with women-led testing teams)

First Computer Algorithm – Ada Lovelace

COBOL Programming Language – Grace Hopper

Computer Compiler – Grace Hopper

FORTRAN/FORUMAC Language Development – Jean E. Sammet

Caller ID and Call Waiting – Dr. Shirley Ann Jackson

Voice over Internet Protocol (VoIP) – Marian Croak

Wireless Transmission Technology – Hedy Lamarr

Polaroid Camera Chemistry / Digital Projection Optics – Edith Clarke

Jet Propulsion Systems Work – Yvonne Brill

Infrared Astronomy Tech – Nancy Roman

Astronomical Data Archiving – Henrietta Swan Leavitt

Nuclear Physics Research Tools – Chien-Shiung Wu

Protein Folding Software – Eleanor Dodson

Global Network for Earthquake Detection – Inge Lehmann

Earthquake Resistant Structures – Edith Clarke

Water Distillation Device – Maria Telkes

Portable Water Filtration Devices – Theresa Dankovich

Solar Thermal Storage System – Maria Telkes

Solar-Powered House – Mária Telkes

Solar Cooker Advancements – Barbara Kerr

Microbiome Research – Maria Gloria Dominguez-Bello

Marine Navigation System – Ida Hyde

Anti-Malarial Drug Work – Tu Youyou

Digital Payment Security Algorithms – Radia Perlman

Wireless Transmitters for Aviation – Harriet Quimby

Contributions to Touchscreen Tech – Dr. Annette V. Simmonds

Robotic Surgery Systems – Paula Hammond

Battery-Powered Baby Stroller – Ann Moore

Smart Textile Sensor Fabric – Leah Buechley

Voice-Activated Devices – Kimberly Bryant

Artificial Limb Enhancements – Aimee Mullins

Crash Test Dummies for Women – Astrid Linder

Shark Repellent – Julia Child

3D Illusionary Display Tech – Valerie Thomas

Biodegradable Plastics – Julia F. Carney

Ink Chemistry for Inkjet Printers – Margaret Wu

Computerised Telephone Switching – Erna Hoover

Word Processor Innovations – Evelyn Berezin

Braille Printer Software – Carol Shaw

⸻

HOUSEHOLD & SAFETY INNOVATIONS:

Home Security System – Marie Van Brittan Brown

Fire Escape – Anna Connelly

Life Raft – Maria Beasley

Windshield Wiper – Mary Anderson

Car Heater – Margaret Wilcox

Toilet Paper Holder – Mary Beatrice Davidson Kenner

Foot-Pedal Trash Can – Lillian Moller Gilbreth

Retractable Dog Leash – Mary A. Delaney

Disposable Diaper Cover – Marion Donovan

Disposable Glove Design – Kathryn Croft

Ice Cream Maker – Nancy Johnson

Electric Refrigerator Improvements – Florence Parpart

Fold-Out Bed – Sarah E. Goode

Flat-Bottomed Paper Bag Machine – Margaret Knight

Square-Bottomed Paper Bag – Margaret Knight

Street-Cleaning Machine – Florence Parpart

Improved Ironing Board – Sarah Boone

Underwater Telescope – Sarah Mather

Clothes Wringer – Ellene Alice Bailey

Coffee Filter – Melitta Bentz

Scotchgard (Fabric Protector) – Patsy Sherman

Liquid Paper (Correction Fluid) – Bette Nesmith Graham

Leak-Proof Diapers – Valerie Hunter Gordon

FOOD/CONVENIENCE/CULTURAL IMPACT:

Chocolate Chip Cookie – Ruth Graves Wakefield

Monopoly (The Landlord’s Game) – Elizabeth Magie

Snugli Baby Carrier – Ann Moore

Barrel-Style Curling Iron – Theora Stephens

Natural Hair Product Line – Madame C.J. Walker

Virtual Reality Journalism – Nonny de la Peña

Digital Camera Sensor Contributions – Edith Clarke

Textile Color Processing – Beulah Henry

Ice Cream Freezer – Nancy Johnson

Spray-On Skin (ReCell) – Fiona Wood

Langmuir-Blodgett Film – Katharine Burr Blodgett

Fish & Marine Signal Flares – Martha Coston

Windshield Washer System – Charlotte Bridgwood

Smart Clothing / Sensor Integration – Leah Buechley

Fibre Optic Pressure Sensors – Mary Lou Jepsen

#women #inventions #technology #world #history #invented #creations #healthcare #home #education #science #feminism #feminist

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leiascully · 8 months ago

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X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 24: Decompress

Here you go @calimanc 💞

She's had a long fucking day. She couldn't even begin to detail what's been so exhausting about it. She's too worn out. It was all the things she did and all the people she dealt with and the disappointing sandwich at lunch she only ate a few bites of and the pebble that nearly turned her ankle and the weird smell in her car from some fast food remnant that had gotten lodged under the seat somehow. Just one damn thing after the other from the moment her alarm went off. The coffee filter overflowed and she got a mouthful of grounds. Her favorite pen disappeared. Her coat pocket has a hole in it and there are miscellaneous little objects inside the lining that bump against her as she walks.

Scully just wants to lie down and hope sleep overtakes her before hunger does.

She opens her apartment door and recoils, her hand going to the grip of her pistol. Someone's been here. Someone is here, or at least she hopes so, because there are lit candles on her table. Artfully arranged around them is a tasteful display of takeout boxes. She sniffs: steamed rice, General Tso's chicken, beef with broccoli, and the off-menu garlic eggplant she can't resist. All her favorites. There's a container of egg drop soup, too, and a greasy bag that surely contains egg rolls. The tv is on, the opening scene of The Exorcist frozen on the screen.

Mulder emerges from her bathroom. "I couldn't find napkins," he says, brandishing a couple of washcloths.

She steps into the apartment and takes the washcloths from him. "Napkins are in the kitchen."

"I didn't want to go through all your drawers," he says with a cheeky little wink.

She tosses the washcloths onto the little table with the answering machine and goes to get cloth napkins out of the drawer in which she keeps them, as if she throws a lot of dinner parties. As if she's thrown any since her father passed away. But she still has the napkins. They're aspirational. She hands a couple to Mulder and he puts them on the table, silverware arrayed on top. He puts the cutlery down correctly next to the plates, which doesn't really surprise her; he has those old-money manners.

She's too tired to even ask him why he's here. She looks at him mutely, one eyebrow ghosting higher.

"You skipped lunch, Scully," he says, answering her unspoken question as he helps her out of her jacket and hangs it up.

"I had a sandwich," she says in a doubtful voice.

"You had two bites of a sandwich." He pats the back of a chair. "Sit down."

She sits. He spoons portions of the various dishes onto her plate, adds an egg roll with a flourish. He brings her a glass of water with just the right amount of ice. He sits and serves himself, and they eat. He talks, but he doesn't ask her questions. It's what she thinks of as Mulderchatter, an endless patter of interesting facts and outlandish theories. It washes over her like a warm bath.

When they've eaten, he maneuvers her to the couch and washes the dishes. The leftovers are stored tidily in the fridge. The candles are snuffed. When he's done, he joins her. She's just staring into space. He picks up her remote, presses play, pulls her feet into his lap, and takes off her shoes. He squeezes her feet gently with his big hands. It feels nice. She's too tender to want the pressure of a real massage, either emotional or physical.

They watch the movie. She's seen it a number of times, can mouth some of the dialogue. He flinches at the scary moments, which is satisfying, because she doesn't. She lets herself drift, anchored by the weight of his hands still cupped over her feet. By the time the movie's over, she's half-asleep.

Mulder wiggles out from under her feet and scoops her up, helping her stand. He slips one arm around her and walks her to her bedroom. There's a pair of clean pajamas lying on her comforter, so he did go through some of her drawers. Somehow that's comforting too, even though she's absolutely certain he's now seen her underwear. He's seen it before. She's got nothing to hide from him.

"Don't go yet," she says. "Please."

"You got me," he promises.

He turns his back while she changes. When she's done, he helps her into the bed. She stares up at him until he sits on the edge of her mattress. He toes off his shoes. She scoots over to make room for him and he lies down on top of the covers. He puts his arm over her.

She shouldn't be soothed by this, probably, but she is. She accepts that about herself at this point. She tries to be superhuman, but everyone needs touch. She's not a wire monkey. She needs Mulder: the bulk of his body next to hers, the even rhythm of his breathing, the faint whiff of cologne from his skin.

She knows he'll be gone when she wakes up, but he'll stay until she's at peace. That's what matters. He did this for her: saw her aching inarticulate need and brought her gifts to nourish her, body and soul.

"Mulder," she mumbles.

"I'm here," he assures her, and she thinks she feels his lips brush her forehead, but she's already sliding into sleep. It's all right. He knows.

#xfiles octoberficfest #my fic #leiascully fic

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earlysunshines · 2 years ago

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(i love you) for sentimental reasons

kindergarden teacher!sana x fem!reader. (pt. 4)

summary: fate seems to love you and sana being alone together, so do your niece and jihyo.

wc: 8k

warnings: mentions of food ; slight (barely) suggestive(?) ; cursing

pt 1. pt2. pt3.

a/n: thank you all for the kind words and support on this series! it was fun writing it and the support on this has been amazing. thank you and enjoy :-]

“What would a young teacher usually order at a cafe.” You ask Chaemin, staring at the espresso machine and pondering. The taller, dark-haired barista looks at you, quirks a brow, then yawns.

“Do I look like I’d know what your five-year-old niece's teacher would like?” Chaemin mutters sleepily, “I’m tired, it’s early, and me personally I need something strong as hell to get me through this damn shift. Maybe she needs something strong since she has to deal with so many kids running around?”

“What if she doesn’t like strong, what if she’s more fond of something sweet? What if she prefers tea?”

“Well maybe you should’ve asked her or something, how do you not know what your dream woman likes.”

“I’m not gonna ask my niece to ask her what her favorite coffee is, that’s weird.”

“You already make Hana tell you about her teacher, I don’t think that would make anything different, y/n.” Chaemin sighs, “Look, I have to prepare for that fucker that orders six drinks and complains to me that they’re not made in two minutes every Wednesday morning. You have fun figuring out what to order for this wonder of a woman, but make it quick. I need to prepare at least 7 shots of espresso before that damn regular walks in.” He says, walking past you and over to the coffee bean grinder.

It’s 7:53 in the morning and the form said to meet in the lobby of the school by 8:30. You’re trying to get your daily caffeine in and decided to ask for an extra beverage to give to your nieces' teacher. Is getting a drink for a woman a form of flirting?

“I’ll just get my usual, and then I guess I’ll get something sweeter and I’ll ask her.”

“Okay, so what’s the sweeter thing gonna be?” Chaemin questions, weighing out the coffee grinds for your usual iced americano. You think to yourself for a bit as he tamps the grinds down and puts a filter on,

“Vanilla latte? Hot, since it’s cold out, maybe she would appreciate that.”

“Can’t go wrong with that I guess.” He sighs while pulling a shot of espresso over a cup of iced water.

You get to the school at 8:23 am, and by the time you’re all parked and in the lobby it’s 8:27.

The lobby is filled with at least sixty kids, probably more. There are four other kindergarten teachers, you assume they’re teachers from the lanyards they wear. At least ten parents are also present, scattered around the lobby with the teachers of their own students. It’s loud and crowded, you wonder if Hana had gotten lost until you look over to the corner to see Hana waving at you, and return the smile at her before making your way to the girl and her class.

Sana watches you with the two coffees in your hand and a smile spread across your face as you walk over to hug your niece, making sure not to spill the beverages. You’re wearing a patched, dark-blue denim jacket and a white t-shirt with a graphic that Sana can’t fully make out, and the t-shirt exposes some of your collarbone, Sana notes. The bottoms you wear are simple, yet effortlessly stylish. You have on washed, dark gray wide-legged jeans that compliment your top, along with black laced loafers to complete the look. Sana thinks you look amazing - Your casual, yet striking style is added to her mental list of what makes you so effortlessly stunning.

After hugging your niece, you make your way over to Sana, the grin that is plastered on your face seems contagious as it makes her grin back. You stand in front of her and greet her with a simple “Hi.” and somehow, her cheeks are already starting to warm up.

“It’s nice to see you, as always,” Sana greets, and you chuckle lightly,

“Yeah, likewise.” You start. The latte that was once about to burn your hands is now at a reasonable temperature, at least one that won’t burn anyone’s tongue (you hope). You look from the latte and back to Sana, “Do you prefer sweet or strong? I stopped by my work and I wanted to get something for you, I didn’t know which you preferred so…” You trail off, looking back at her with uncertainty.

Sana doesn’t know how you’re so perfect.

“Y/n,” She mumbles, looking at the drinks in your hands, “You didn’t have to.”

“I thought you might need some caffeine before working with so many kids you know.” You joke. Sana pauses, you think of her?

She wonders how often the thought of her crosses your mind (which is a lot), and it gives her a little hope in her heart.

“You’re so sweet, Y/n. What are the options?”

“I got a vanilla latte and iced americano. I mean you got an Americano when we ran into each other at the store, but I had to make sure there were options.” You explain, though you realize there are definitely not a lot of options. You'd bring her the whole cafe if you could, just to make sure she could have a beverage that she'd like.

“I’ll take the latte, I like sweet things.” sweet things like you, she thinks to herself. You hand her the warm vanilla latte with a grin before another voice joins in,

“Good morning Sana!” A shorter woman chirps. The woman with the bob has her own hot beverage in her hands, and she’s dressed warmly to fit the weather as it transitions from late fall to early winter.

“Jihyo!” Sana cheers, hugging the woman. You smile at the woman (although your jaw tenses a little. You want to be able to hug Sana like that), and she smiles back after pulling away from the teacher. You examine her outfit; she’s wearing a black coat over a dark form-fitting shirt, and casual blue jeans paired with white tennis shoes to finish the look. She also has a beige bag that is hung on her shoulder and a silver ring on her left ring finger.

Sana looks at the two of you, and she holds back a small giggle looking at your height difference. Jihyo’s head is angled upwards to meet your gaze and even though the woman is shorter – you can’t help but be a little intimidated by such a strong aura: it screams authority.

“Ah, Jihyo, this is Y/n,” Sana says a bit shyly, and the slightly shorter woman with the bob looks back at Sana with slightly raised brows,

“Oh? Is that so?” Jihyo says amusingly, looking back at your taller self. You seem a little smaller under her gaze, and it’s scaring you a little. Jihyo temporarily washes your worries away by sticking her hand out and grinning at you, “I’m Jihyo. Sana has told me a lot about you, it’s nice to meet you in person.”

“She has?” You question, a brow arching. Sana clears her throat and it stops Jihyo from exposing her, though you wanted to know more.

“Y/n, this is Jiyeong’s mom. We used to be roommates,” Sana quickly says. Jihyo just laughs and nods before Sana adds, “Y/n is Hana’s aunt.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me that,” Jihyo responds with surprise. Jihyo knew your name and that Sana had a really big interest in you, but she didn’t know that you were her daughter's best friend’s aunt. Sana shuts her down before she can say anything more to make her cheeks redden.

You’re confused, to say the least. Sana talks about you? What does she tell Jihyo? Is she into you? You’re thinking a lot of things and you want answers to all the questions you have running through your mind, but for now, you'll have to wait. Sana walks off, face flushed, leaving you and Jihyo to chat with one another.

You look over from Jihyo to her daughter, who is talking to your niece and laughing as they converse.

“My daughter talks about your niece quite often,” Jihyo says, and she’s looking in the same direction as you while she sparks a conversation, “Hana seems like a sweet one, she makes my daughter very happy. It’s nice to meet the one who takes care of her, you must be as kind as Sana says.”

“Thank you,” You respond, turning to see her still looking at the two girls, “Can I ask… What else does Sana say about me?”

“You’ll have to find out yourself.” Jihyo simply states.

Aw, man.

“This is your chance to talk to Ms. Minatozaki alone! I can’t keep being the one to talk to her and then talk to you! I want to talk to Jiyeong too y’know.”

“Oh.”

“Papa was right, you need to be not shy for once,” Hana sighs, “I thought you said you had the cool genes!”

Ouch.

Hana had insisted that you sit with Sana after giving you a lecture, or was it her just scolding you? Same thing. You realize that you literally got lectured by a five-year-old, it humbled you a bit.

The conversation between you and your niece ended after she gave you a pat on the cheek, fist-bumped you, and let you run off on your own as if she was your own guardian – how ironic.

So, you make your way onto the big yellow bus, looking for the familiar face of someone who you think might be an angel. You wave to her and ask if you can sit next to her, she nods happily. Now you’re closer to Sana than you have ever been, all thanks to that five-year-old, and you’re not too mad about it.

You never fully noticed before, but she smelled really good, not in a weird way or anything – it’s just, she smelled like roses, fruit, and vanilla – it really fits her. Her shoulder was dangerously close to yours, and you figured you’d explode if you guys made even the slightest bit of contact.

Sana is dressed up warmly too; she wears a thick, dark gray cardigan with a white shirt under, and the hem of the shirt peaks from under the cardigan. She’s dressed in casual pants, they’re loose on her legs and just a shade lighter than the cardigan she wears, and to top off the whole look, there are white sneakers that she wears. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, and some strands fall over her face. She looks beautiful, you might faint right then and there.

Sana looks at you again and tilts her head a bit,

“You’re not sitting with Hana?” She questions, and immediately regrets it after wondering whether it sounded like she didn’t want you next to her, because she definitely did want to be next to you; in fact, you were the only thing she had on her mind last night before she fell asleep. You turn your head to look back at your niece, who’s laughing with Jihyo’s daughter,

“Hana wanted to sit next to Jiyeong. I guess it’s not too bad that she didn’t want to sit with me if I get to sit next to you now.” You say boldly. Sana looks at your expression, you look unbothered and the way you just flirted with her was so smooth it had her blushing from ear to ear. You give her your signature, toothy smile, and she has to take a moment, it makes her look away for a few seconds,

“Your niece kicked you out?” Sana teases, trying to compose herself,

“They grow up so fast.” You sigh playfully. Sana giggles.

The bus driver gives the signal that he’s ready to start heading to the art museum, Sana stands up and starts to talk to the students.

“Alright everyone, I’m going to need you all to use your indoor voices for Ms. Minatozaki. If you do so, we’ll get to the museum quicker, alright?” She announces,

“Yes Ms. Minatozaki!”

“Thank you, everyone. We’ll be there in twenty minutes, maybe less if you all behave, so make sure to leave a good impression on the bus driver and make it easier for him to get there!” Sana finally says. The students respond with another “Yes Ms. Minatozaki,” and the young teacher counts all the kids on the bus, making sure she doesn’t miss anyone. After making sure everyone is all aboard, she signals to the bus driver that they’re all good to go. The bus shifts a bit as it starts, then it starts moving forward.

In an attempt to spark small talk, Sana decides to bring up the weather.

“It’s getting cold, huh.” She mutters, looking out the window. You hum in response, looking in Sana’s direction, but not at the window. Your look stays on Sana’s side profile, and you wonder how every feature on her face is so flawless, whoever made her took their time for sure. Her nose is angled perfectly, and her plump lips are just barely parted as she stares out the window, you could stare at her forever.

Sana turns her head back towards you and you quickly shift your stare to the window to avoid eye contact and to make it seem like you weren't admiring her for the last ten seconds. You clear your throat.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Thank you for the latte, it was really good. It warmed me up.” Sana says. Eye contact is shared again and you bite the inside of your cheek,

“Anytime. I could uh, bring you more if you’d like?”

“It’s alright, I don’t want to make it seem like I’m using you for coffee.” She laughs, “But I appreciate the offer.”

“Well,” You start, “If you ever change your mind you can always tell me when you see me.” You shrug. Sana smiles at you again, nods, then gives you that look from your lips to your eyes that turns your heart into a beating mess. She looks out the window again and you have to stop yourself from admiring her the whole time.

A few words are shared between the two of you every time Sana spots something pretty, she talks about how it reminds her of things from her past or her friends. You learn a little more about her, she’s so pure and cute it’s heartwarming.

The bus ride goes well.

As soon as the bus comes to a stop, the kids are all rowdy again, however, Sana quiets them down with ease. She simply claps her hand in the same pattern as she would usually do to grab their attention, and they clap their hands in the same pattern back, all eyes are on the young teacher now.

“Alright everyone, we’ve made it! Now, in order for us to get started with our field trip, I’m going to need everyone to be patient and exit as I say. The grown-ups will exit first, then the kids. We’ll go by row and I’ll be the last one out, okay?”

“Yes Ms. Minatozaki!” The kids respond, and you admire how much they seem to trust and adore the teacher.

Getting everyone out of the bus was easy, each kid listened and Sana told the parents to keep them in a group once they had gotten out. Once the disembarking had finished, Sana made sure that everyone was present, taking another headcount. After knowing that no one had wandered away, she smiled and kindly ordered them to follow her.

After the guides had introduced themselves, given a brief description and synopsis of what the museum offered, and handed out maps, the class was split into groups of four. There were exactly twenty-eight students, seven guardians and/or parents, and Sana. With that amount of people, it was easy to make the groups.

Originally, Hana was set to be in the group that you and Jihyo would watch over, but Hana insisted that you switch with the parent paired with Sana. Jihyo and Hana talked for a few seconds, which you had noticed from the corner of your eye. They exchanged smiles and understanding nods, and whatever they plotted somehow allowed you to be with this wonder of a woman.

And so, you’re with Sana now.

Sana is happy to accept her new partner; in fact, she’s more than happy to spend time with the woman she’s been gushing over for weeks.

The groups decide to pick their own section in the museum to start at and make their way through the whole place from there, making sure to meet in a few hours.

Your group had seven kids, and each group did. You and the young teacher had stumbled across a certain section with an adult that would give the kids a thirty-minute detailed guided tour, leaving you and Sana to wait alone together and wander around the nearby exhibits. You two would’ve joined in on the tour, but of course, the max capacity was eight people.

You had insisted that Sana should go join, after all, it was her class. Sana, being the caring person she was, had assured you it was okay if she missed the tour and stayed with you. The tour guide had made sure that he would take care of the kids, after all, the exhibit was mainly for young kids like them, and he had dealt with many before.

Fate decided that you two spend more time together, and this time, alone.

“Have you been to this museum before?” You ask.

“No, you?”

“Once.” You mumble, “In high school.”

“You’ve lived here since high school?” Sana questions, suddenly invested. You nod and look at the painting in front of you,

“I’ve lived here since I was in fifth grade, but in the more suburban area, rather than here in the city.” You simply respond.

“Well,” Sana hums, “Maybe you could show me around sometime.”

“W-what?” You practically choke out, a blush creeping to your cheeks.

“I moved here at the beginning of the year, I’m still a bit new.”

“I see,” You begin, trying to recompose yourself, “Yeah, It’s a nice area. I wouldn’t be against the idea of showing you around.”

Sana smiles and turns to face you again, “Maybe you could start by showing me around the museum? We have twenty-five minutes.”

There’s a sudden nervousness that spreads throughout your whole body, as well as a warmth that spreads across your chest. Sana wants you to show her around, and she asks you like it’s a normal request (it is, but you figure it’s not because the person asking is particularly striking).

You nod your head and respond with a small, “Okay.” and her radiant grin grows.

The exhibits were all unique in their own way – some were filled with modern art, some with abstract art, and even some with Renaissance art. Each section had works that were all tremendously striking; however, the most beautiful thing in the museum had been by your side the whole time.

Sana makes her way to a pleasant-looking painting, something floral. Maybe it’s an oil painting? She can’t really tell, but it sure is a wonder. It’s detailed and vibrant, the colors complement each other well with such a diverse color selection. Each stroke seems to have been placed so carefully, every single swipe of paint complimenting the stroke next to it.

Sana stares at the painting with much interest, “This one is beautiful,” she says in awe.

“Very…” you hum, though, you aren’t observing the painting,

Your eyes are fixated on her.

The day goes by quickly, unfortunately.

You and Sana aren’t able to indulge in many conversations as you two were busy making sure everyone was still nearby and not running off.

The kids finish the painting activity that was scheduled for them at the end of the trip, and they leave the museum with their hand-crafted art. everything had gone by too fast, you wished it hadn’t, then maybe, you could admire Sana for just a few moments longer.

Sana helps everyone get situated on the bus, so you end up sitting down first and getting the window seat this time. You wait for her.

Sana sighs as she sits down next to you, a bit worn out from the day and keeping everyone in check.

You try to ignore the contact that her shoulder makes with yours when she shifts to get more comfortable in the seat, and you also try to ignore the fact that your knees touch a little, just for the sake of your sanity. Sana seems to be unbothered by the physical touch, and she looks at you innocently,

“I think the kids enjoyed it.” She says proudly, resting her head on the seat. She turns her head a little so that she’s looking at you with the most soft, tender look in her doe eyes, “Did you?”

“Of course.” You say, voice just above a whisper. Of course I enjoyed it, who wouldn’t enjoy their time with a woman like you? You think. Sana lets out another content sigh, and she rests her head against your shoulder a bit, not even bothering to think about how bold the action is, she's too tired and she figures you wouldn't mind – you don't mind at all.

“I’m glad.” she mumbles, and you hope she can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest, “Wake me up before we get back?”

“Of course.” You hum lowly. Her eyes close and her weight seems to shift onto your shoulder more. Your cheeks redden and you let out a small breath as you relax into the seat – you couldn’t be any happier.

The chaperones and their kids bid their farewells to Sana, though you stay a bit longer since Hana and Jiyeong want to hang out more. Your mind wanders a bit and you can’t help but stare into the distance, and your gaze somehow manages to land on Sana as you remember what she had said: Maybe you could show me around sometime? The words seem to replay in your head, a thought pops up in your mind.

Jihyo looks over to see you in a trance, and she chuckles to herself as she notices what – or, who your eyes are fixated on,

“Did you two have fun?” The shorter woman asks, a smirk tugging at her lips. Your head turns quickly to her in surprise, cheeks turning a bit red as you realize you’ve gotten caught staring. Jihyo laughs at you playfully, shifting her look towards the woman you had been admiring before, “Sana was really excited to be able to spend time with you today.”

“M-me?” You stutter out, mentally punching yourself for such a response.

“You two are oblivious, I could tell from the few interactions I saw.” Jihyo sighs.

You look back at Sana, who’s now walking over with a smile on her lips. She looks at you first, then at Jihyo when she meets with the two of you again,

“Everyone just left, sorry for making you wait, Jihyo.” Sana sighs. Her shoulders are drooping down a bit, and she seems ready to go home and rest again, though this time on her bed and not your shoulder (much to your dismay).

She turns to eye you again, and suddenly she’s full of life, as if the energy that had been squeezed out of her had suddenly come back.

“Ah, y/n. I’m happy that you were able to chaperone. I’ll see you…?” She trails off for you to respond, or in this case, finish her sentence, because she hopes to see you again this week.

“Um, I don’t think I’m picking up Hana for the rest of this week. My shifts go on until five because I took today off.” You explain, “So, next week.” You nod. There’s a familiar thought from earlier that crosses your mind, you avoid the woman’s gaze and try to forget about it.

Sana notices you biting the inside of your cheek and breaking eye contact as if you were about to say something to her. Sana decides to let it be.

“Well, we’ll be going now Y/n,” Jihyo says, almost sighing. She looks you dead in the eye and raises a brow, almost as if she could read your mind earlier, almost as if she were urging you to go through with your sudden thought.

“Yeah… Me too. Um, yeah.” Your words are tumbling off the tip of your tongue from nervousness, “Hana, let’s go. Your dad must be waiting at home.” You finally say, waving to the two women and Jiyeong.

As you depart, Jihyo looks at you slightly disappointed.

You’re back in the car after saying goodbye and you stare out the windshield while holding onto the wheel, simply thinking.

The sight of Jihyo and Sana catches your eye from the side-view mirror, and there’s a sudden rush of confidence that takes over.

“Hana, I’ll be back in a bit.” you quickly say.

Your fingers fumble with the seatbelt that refuses to unbuckle due to your nervousness, though you manage and hurry to open your car door, rushing out. You’re trying your best to prepare yourself for whatever the fuck it is that you’re about to do, your jaw tensing up and your hands trying to straighten up the denim jacket you have on. Self-consciousness and worry took over, but you ignore it, you can’t have Jihyo looking at you like you’re a big loser the next time you see her, can you?

So, here you are.

Jihyo notices you first and raises her brows in amusement, Sana notices you after seeing Jihyo’s expression shift.

“Hey, Sana,” You say with a surprising amount of confidence. You clear your throat and your eyes dart to anywhere else but Sana’s eyes, “Can I talk to you for a moment,” You ask, “Alone.” and you practically mumble that last word. Sana tilts her head and Jihyo smiles knowingly,

“I’ll be in the car,” Jihyo says amused, then grabs her daughter's hand with hers, urging her to come with and leave the two of you alone.

You and Sana are alone now, in the middle of a barely filled parking lot.

“Did you need something?” Sana questions. You nod and it takes a bit for you to continue talking, the words in your mouth getting tangled in your tongue.

“Uh, well.” god, you really need to get a grip. “At the museum, you uh, you mentioned, well - you said, you said maybe I could show you around sometime? I mean I can. I hope you’re still up for it, I mean,” You close your eyes out of embarrassment and turn your head to the side a bit, and you really try to compose yourself this time.

“This Sunday, yeah. There’s always a flea market on Sundays, they’re on until around eight. We should go, I mean if you’d like. What I’m trying to say is I’d really like to show you around.” You finally say, you say what you’ve been thinking and you say it without tripping over your words.

“You’re asking me out?” Sana asks playfully,

“You implied that you wanted me to.” You simply say, making eye contact with her again. Now it’s Sana’s turn to be all flustered as she looks up at you. Your eyebrows are slightly raised as you wait for an answer, and her cheeks are dusted a faint shade of pink as you waited for a response,

“So?” You question again,

“I’d love that,” Sana says almost immediately.

“Really? I mean, yeah- yes. Okay, that’s,”

“You’re so cute.” is what Sana says, and it has your heart skipping a beat, Sana’s heart too, “Let me get your number, so you can text me the details?”

“Yeah, here.” You respond, handing her your unlocked phone.

You both exchange numbers, and before departing you can’t help but grin at each other, and you grin at each other for a while.

Mission success.

You agree to pick up Sana from her place in the evening around five.

Your fingers tap against the wheel of your car and you tap your foot anxiously as you wait. There’s a sound that’s heard from your phone as it vibrates against the cup holder, and you immediately check to see what it is. There’s a message from the young teacher and your eyes light up immediately as you open it,

Sana

I’m on my way out right now

Can’t wait

y/n

Take your time

Can’t wait to see you

You probably look like a fool who's in love as you read her message, reply, and hit send because you’re smiling at the screen and biting your lip slightly from the rush of excitement that courses through your veins.

Sana shows up a couple of minutes later.

Your eyes widen almost immediately and your cheeks are definitely tinted – no, fully crimson. Your grip on the wheel tightens, and it seems to do so every time you see the wonderful woman. Your heart does flips and beats at an unhealthy rate as you take in everything about her.

She wears something so striking, but slightly casual too. She has on a black blazer, almost a jacket, you think. It’s worn over a black shirt and the tops she wears are complimented by silver jewelry that loops around her neck, sitting just above her collarbone level. She’s wearing dark jeans that are just slightly loose around her legs, and casual sneakers to really top it off.

She’s so incredibly stunning that it makes you wonder if you’re dreaming.

Sana waves as she makes her way over and you’re trying your best to act normal – or at least act like this woman isn’t making you completely lose your cool.

“Hey.” She says, getting in your car,

“Hi.” You say in awe, “You look beautiful.” and that’s just an understatement. You’re unable to look away from her as if your eyes were a moth and she was the flame drawing you in. Sana simply smiles and she’s extremely flattered by your compliment, as well as the way your lips slightly part while you check her out.

“Thank you.” Sana responds as she puts on her seatbelt, “You look really cute.”

You’re going to explode.

“Thanks.” You mumble, quickly turning your head away and back to the steering wheel. Sana plays the passenger princess role too well, with emphasis on the princess part because her looks are something you would expect to see from a descendant of royalty, something in a renaissance painting that has the words 'do not touch' beside it. You adjust the rearview mirror for no apparent reason as it’s already been adjusted, but you’re doing anything to distract yourself from the jaw-dropping sight to the right of you.

As you drive toward the city, there’s the faint sound of a slow romance song playing. The mood is extremely intimate and romantic, you’re having trouble focusing on driving as your heartbeat ups its pace.

It takes about fifteen minutes to get to the flea market area downtown. Fifteen minutes of small conversation and Sana’s gaze on you every couple of minutes.

You two arrive and you turn off your engine, making sure to get out first and open the door for Sana. She gets out and smiles at you sweetly, which makes you smile back. You close the car door for your passenger princess.

The brisk winter air carries a hint of anticipation that invites everyone to immerse themselves in the weekly event. It’s early winter and darkness envelops the slightly crowded, dimmed, and busy streets. the sun had almost set completely, though there are bright lights that illuminate the areas which seem to be hidden away from the lamp posts that lighten up the main streets. Each store and vendor has its own uniqueness, selling different types of items, clothing, accessories, and more.

You and Sana walk towards the flea markets, the space between you two getting smaller and shoulders occasionally brushing every now and then. The two of you explore and interact with any vendor or stand that seems to have anything interesting, which helps you learn about one another.

Sana learns that you have an interest in old rings, silver ones specifically. You buy three silver rings, and it all ended up being ten dollars in total. She learns that you have a liking towards graphic t-shirts; in fact, you buy two while walking around. Sana had picked out both for you, telling you that you’d look cute in them, making your cheeks flush, though your cheeks might've been red ever since you laid your eyes on her.

You buy an old vintage camera and film for less than thirty dollars, and Sana thinks it’s so extremely cute how your face lights up after you purchase the two items, holding them up as if they were trophies you had won.

You learn that Sana seems to love jewelry, and she buys various bracelets and necklaces for herself and even buys one of each for you. You insist that it’s okay and you don’t need it, but you give in when she looks at you with those puppy eyes – you learn that you can’t say no to her. Sana buys a few samples of fragrances, and she explains that she’s always had a thing for collecting different scents, you think it’s adorable.

You’re the one who had asked Sana on this date, but she’s the one who ends up dragging you to every little section that manages to catch her attention. The knuckles that brush against each other lead to the intertwining of fingers and flushed cheeks.

After almost two hours of walking around and exploring, you two decide to relax and get ice cream, even in the cold weather because the two of you are warmed up enough from just being around each other, ice cream won’t hurt anyone.

“Have you tried this ice cream place before?” You ask Sana, who’s taking a picture of the dessert in front of her. She shakes her head,

“No, you?”

“Twice. Once in high school with Johnny and last year with Hana.” You explain, taking a bite from the sweet treat in front of you. It’s matcha flavored, though the sweetness is still there. The strength of the matcha is more prominent than the coconut base, just how you like it.

Sana melts as she takes a bite of her strawberry ice cream, her eyes lighting up and shoulders relaxing. You can’t help but laugh.

“What?” Sana questions,

“You’re just really cute.” You simply say, taking another bite of your ice cream. Sana’s heartbeat quickens. Sana tries to compose herself in front of you, changing the topic of the conversation,

“So,” She clears her throat, “What do you like to do? It’s a cliche and unavoidable question, but other than being a barista do you do anything else?”

“I actually write a little. I used to write for some art articles online, I still do it every now and then.” You explain, “You?”

“Just teaching.”

“Did you always want to teach?”

“Yeah, actually. I’ve always liked helping others and I don’t know, I like encouraging the kids.”

“That’s cute.” You mumble, “You’re so cute.”

The night goes on and you two learn more than just about your interests in occupations. Sana learns that you rock climb every weekend, which explains why you’re so unbelievably athletic looking and toned. She finds your love for cooking and making drinks extremely cute and admirable, it seems as if the more she learns about you, the more she falls for you. She learns that you moved to the city with Johnny when you were 18, and that was the same time Hana had been brought into your life, one of the best things the universe had given to you. You’re the type of person who lives life to experience the beauty the universe has to offer, she thinks that’s amazing.

You learn that Sana had moved with the help of Jihyo and that they had been friends since college, Jihyo was also the reason Sana had landed her current job. Sana shares that she’s an only child, and in contrast to you, she wasn’t the athletic type really. You notice how bubbly she is talking to you, her more professional demeanor had completely broken down and a new, lively side was revealed. Sana is incredibly talkative and she rambles a lot, you think – no, you know you could get used to this.

The night had gone by too fast, Sana is back in your car again and you’ve just reached her apartment complex.

It seems that time spent with Sana seems to go by too quickly, and you hope that there's a chance of being able to spend more than just a couple of hours with her.

“Thank you for everything y/n, I really enjoyed tonight.”

“It’s no problem,” You start, “I’m glad you liked downtown.”

“Maybe you could show me around again sometime? I’d really like to do this again.” Sana says, and her toothy grin is so bright it nearly outshines the lights in your car.

“I’m not against that at all.” and you think you might die right then and there from the way your heart beats, and you want this moment to last forever; just you and Sana together.

“I’ll see you then, text me.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. She opens the car door and your heart breaks slightly, not ready for her to leave just yet.

Sana seems to have read your emotions because she pauses before she gets out and turns to you.

“Wait,” She begins, “I forgot something.”

Before you ask her what it is that she had forgotten, she seems to answer your question before you can even let any words out of your mouth,

her lips are suddenly on yours.

The contact is sudden and you’re a bit unprepared, but you easily grow accustomed to it and kiss right back, eyes fluttering shut. Sana’s lips are so incredibly soft on yours, and the scent of vanilla and fruit is takes over your senses. Sana pulls away and your lips chase for hers again, and when they meet again it’s like the oxygen from Sana’s lungs had been snatched. Your hand moves to cup her cheek and your shoulders relax in the moment because it feels as if nothing else in the world matters except for her, as if all your worries had vanished just like that. Sana moves her hand to your neck and gently caresses it as you two share a few more soft, slow, and steady kisses, there’s no rush as if this moment would last forever. You two are practically unable to pull away from how much you both like the feeling of each other's lips on one another.

You want to live in this moment forever.

You two finally pull away after what had seemed like forever, though your hands seem to linger on each other a bit and both of your lips are parted slightly. Your lips are still so close that they’re slightly brushing against each other, butterflies are in your stomach and you’re forgetting how to breathe, think, or even function.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you.” Sana mumbles against your mouth, “You’re so cute.”

If you were in a cartoon right now, you’d think your heart would be dramatically beating out of your chest, and your jaw would be on the floor. You pull away a bit and it’s almost impossible to make eye contact with Sana, but you manage to do so anyway.

“I think I might die right here right now.” You mumble, it’s the only thing you can say or think of in the moment. Sana giggles and presses another soft peck on your lips,

“Let’s do this again.”

“Yeah.” You breathe out.

the light from the car shows her flushed cheeks and warm smile as she leans away from you, opening the car door and smiling at you one more time as she closes it. She turns to leave and you’re left in the car alone, your heart beat slowly beating back to its normal pace.

You put a hand on the wheel and grip it tightly, still processing what just happened before smiling to yourself and driving away from the apartment complex.

Sana has you head over heels, and you want to kiss her again and again.

Chaemin had been teaching the new high school student that had been hired. He helped her measure out the espresso grinds, telling her how many grams would be needed for whichever drink, and she listened carefully.

“Hello.” A customer beams, Chaemin turns his head.

“Hello, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Chaemin starts, giving the woman a friendly smile, “Eunchae, just measure out the grinds and pull a shot. Give it a try and I’ll be back.” He says to the young, new employee.

Chaemin walks over to the register and taps at the screen. He gives the woman his signature smile and greets her,

“Hi, what can I get started for you?”

“Oh, I’m not ordering, I was just wondering if y/n was here?”

Chaemin quirks a brow, “Y/n?”

“Yeah, she should be off in ten minutes, no?”

“She’s off soon, just putting stuff in the back. You are...?”

“Sana.”

Ah.

“So you’re the woman she’s been gushing over.” Chaemin laughs, “God she has not stopped talking about you since she met you.”

Sana’s smile grows a bit from the sudden remark and she laughs,

“I see… That’s sweet.”

“You had her going insane for three months.” Chaemin jokes playfully, “I’m glad she finally found a way to ask you out. I haven’t heard her complaining as much about not being able to take you out for about two months or something, though she’s still always gushing about you.”

Sana and Chaemin talk about you for a bit, laughing at your antics and Chaemin decides to tease you here and there. The two get along very well, and Sana is very happy about that.

“You know one time, I think, maybe before you two started dating? She came in the morning and asked me what a ‘young teacher usually order at a cafe’ and I swear she almost-” Chaemin gets cut off when you push him aside, pushing his face away with your hand and squishing his cheeks. He groans.

“Alright that’s enough.” You say, embarrassed. “Whatever he said, do not listen.”

Sana giggles and it’s time for you to stop being annoyed by Chaemin and start smiling at the girl you’ve been with for almost three months now. Chaemin narrows his eyes at your sudden mood change, scoffing playfully.

“Hi, Sana.” You say all giddy, “You didn’t tell me you were stopping by,”

“I wanted to see you. It’s also Friday, maybe we could-”

“Yes.” You cut her off, “I’m down for whatever.”

Chaemin rolls his eyes at you, chuckling to himself, “You’re so-”

“Go back to teaching Eunchae.” You retort, narrowing your eyes and Chaemin can't lie you look scarier than usual, you are infatuated with this woman.

“I’m not letting this go.” Chaemin finally sighs, walking back over to Eunchae.

Your attention is back on Sana, who’s smiling at you, “Dinner?” she asks,

“Yeah.” you respond, “Where?”

“My place?” Sana suggests, you nod,

"Let me get my stuff and I can drive us."

"Okay." She beams.

You two grow extremely fond of each other after spending more time together as a couple. Three months of being together turned into four months, six months eight, and suddenly you’re together for a year. Each and every second that passed by while you were with her is another moment that you had fallen more in love.

You love Sana for so many reasons.

She's the only one you want to see when you roll over in the morning, the only one you want to kiss awake after intimate nights after seeing her with her oh-so-messy hair flowing down in different directions around her. You love to carry her to your now shared living room and set her on the couch while you make her coffee, her giving you the kisses you can never get enough of, ones that you reciprocate and smile into. You love her radiant smile and the way her nose scrunches up when she giggles at you for slipping and falling on accident, you love the sound of her high-pitched giggles so much that you would purposely slip and fall over and over again just to hear her laugh again and again.

As you grow more attracted and attached to Sana, the physical aspects of her seem to disappear for a moment, you fall for not just her outside beauty, but all the internal aspects. You’re in love with how comfortable she makes you feel – you can sit in silence for hours and there are no words that need to be said because you two simply just enjoy each other's presence. You’re in love with how caring she is, she naturally is a caring person, she always has been. She’s always looking after kids at her job, making sure they’re all satisfied and happy – then she comes home to you, making sure you’re loved, and you return the favor. She’s beautiful not because of the way her features fit perfectly on her face, but because she makes you feel so giddy and happy. She makes you smile and that’s the thing that really makes her so captivating.

You’re in love with all of her, from her physical beauty to her caring heart. She is the one who you love so tenderly, so warmly, you love her and it’s real, genuine, and you don’t think you could ever love anyone the way you love her.

Sana also loves you for many reasons. She’s been in love with you since the day she saw you – whether she knew it or not.

The first time Sana had woken up next to you she knew she wanted to be with you forever.

Her nose was buried in the crook of your neck and her arm was lazily thrown across your chest while her legs were tangled with yours. The only thing that was heard that morning was your slow, labored breaths, and Sana could feel your chest rise up and down with each one. A smile had formed on her lips as she traced your jawline, her heart fluttered and the moment was so simple, yet so soft. Sana wanted to live in the moment forever.

Sana loved you because you were there when she needed a pillar of support, you were her pillar of support. She loved you because you loved and cared for everyone important to you, whether it was your parents, Johnny, or Hana, you loved them all so deeply and it was so genuine that it made Sana so incredibly happy to realize that you would love her as much as you loved them – it’s almost as this love that you had for everyone you cared about was the most precious thing in the world, and she was someone you shared it with.

Sana loved the late-night drives with you, humming softly to the romantic music that would play. She loved the way you’d mumble sleepily in the morning, your cheek squished against the pillow, it was a cute sight. She adored you when you would pull her aside and serenade her to slow songs in the living room during the evening, and she loved when you'd cook or make coffee for her, how you’d kiss her as she fell weak to your touch, and so many other things that not enough words could ever describe.

Sana felt so lucky to have you in her life, she was so glad that your niece had her as a teacher because if she didn’t she wouldn’t have met you. You were so glad that Hana had helped you get to know her kindergarten teacher, you were so glad that Johnny had that business trip because it allowed you to meet Sana.

You’re so glad that a five-year-old helped you meet the love of your life, you're so damn glad.

#sana imagines #sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice sana #twice x reader #twice #twice imagines #minatozaki sana #sana twice

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blowndrip · 4 months ago

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À DEUX PAS

PART V : À UN PAS

part I , part II , part III , part IV

pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

A/N: sorry for the very long wait here is part 5

Y/N POV:

Bondy, Spring 2016

It had been a little over two months since he left. Two months of waking up every day with that hollow feeling in my chest. It was strange, almost absurd. Shouldn’t I be used to it by now? After all, I knew he would leave someday—that he’d leave Bondy to chase his dreams. But knowing something doesn’t make it easier to live with.

I’d stopped counting the days, but I couldn’t forget the absence.

That morning, soft summer light filtered through my curtains. I’d been awake for a while, lying still, staring at the ceiling. Each day felt the same as the last.

Finally, I sat up slowly, my feet touching the cold floor. I could feel the fatigue etched into my face, but I didn’t bother looking in the mirror as I passed the bathroom. What was the point?

Downstairs, the smell of coffee filled the air. My mom was already up, as usual, scrolling through her phone. She barely glanced up when I walked in.

“Sleep well?” she asked distractedly.

“Yeah,” I replied flatly, pouring myself a glass of water.

She didn’t press further. She’d grown used to my short answers lately. I think she could tell something was off, but she didn’t push.

I sat at the table, idly playing with my glass. The house was quiet, save for the sound of her flipping through a magazine.

My phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at it quickly—just an Instagram notification. I sighed. Since he’d left, every buzz made my heart skip, even though I knew better.

I headed upstairs, trying to focus on my homework. Math. Just looking at the equations gave me a headache, but I had to get through it. I picked up my pen, attempting the first problem.

Nothing. My mind wandered again.

I grabbed my phone, just for a break. No new messages, of course, but my fingers instinctively went to his name. I stared at the empty conversation. No new messages in weeks.

My chest tightened. I put the phone face down, determined not to touch it for the rest of the day.

The afternoon came and went without me noticing. The house felt suffocating, so I threw on a light jacket and stepped outside.

The streets of Bondy were alive with their usual rhythm—kids playing, neighbors chatting, and the distant hum of traffic. I walked aimlessly, letting my feet guide me. The sun warmed my skin, and for a moment, I felt a little lighter.

Eventually, I found myself near a small park. I sat on a bench, watching people pass by. A couple walked hand in hand, a group of friends laughed loudly, and a dog chased after a ball. Life went on, as it always did.

A little while later, I decided to grab something to drink. There was a small café just a few blocks from the park, and I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.

Inside, the familiar smell of freshly ground coffee greeted me. The clinking of cups, the hum of conversations, and the hiss of the espresso machine felt comforting. Here, at least, I could escape for a while.

I ordered an iced tea and sat by the window. The sunlight cast a warm glow over the tables, and I tried to focus on the present.

But even here, my mind wandered. I pulled out my phone, hesitating for a second before opening Instagram. As always, his profile was the first thing I searched for.

He’d posted something the day before—a photo of him on the pitch in Monaco, smiling, surrounded by his teammates. I scrolled through the comments, most from fans praising his talent and predicting a bright future.

I should be proud of him, right? After all, this was what he’d always wanted.

Before I could overthink it, my fingers typed out a message.

Me: Hey, congrats on the goal. It was impressive.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, then immediately put my phone down, resting my head in my hands.

I’d barely finished my tea when my phone buzzed on the table. My heart leapt.

It was him.

Kylian: Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot that you watched.

I read and reread his message, searching for something between the lines. Was it just a polite thank-you, or did it mean more?

I took a deep breath before replying.

Me: I couldn’t not watch. It was… impressive.

Another message came almost immediately.

Kylian: I miss seeing you, talking to you. I hope you’re doing okay.

My chest tightened. His words were simple, but they carried so much weight. I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me wanted to tell him everything—how his absence had left a void in me. But another part was scared.

Finally, I typed:

Me: I miss you too, Kylian.

It was honest, maybe too direct. I wasn’t sure what to expect. The silence from my phone felt unbearable. Maybe I should’ve stayed quiet…

Then, it buzzed again. My heart raced.

Kylian: You have no idea how happy it makes me to read that.

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. A familiar warmth spread through me.

Me: Why did you wait so long to text me?

A few seconds passed, and I saw the “seen” notification appear. The typing bubbles popped up, then disappeared.

I frowned. He was typing… then nothing.

A minute passed, then two. Just as I started to think he wouldn’t reply, my phone buzzed again.

Kylian: I was scared you were still mad.

Me: And you thought silence would fix that?

Kylian: No. I messed up, I know. But I didn’t know how to come back to you after everything.

I looked down, the words sticking in my throat.

Me: You should’ve tried.

A moment of silence, then he replied:

Kylian: Yeah, but sometimes it’s hard. I have everything I’ve ever wanted, but I realize some things are really missing.

I furrowed my brow slightly as I read his message. My heart beat a little faster. But before I could reply, another message came through:

Kylian: You.

I froze, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. No matter how many times I reread those three words, I couldn’t quite believe them.

Me: Me?

Kylian: Yeah. Since I left, everything’s different. It’s like… sometimes, what really matters stayed in Bondy.

A small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. His sincerity always disarmed me, even through a screen.

Me: Then why are you telling me this now?

Kylian: Because I want to see you again. I wanted to ask… your birthday’s coming up, right?

He caught me off guard again.

Me: And?

Kylian: I’d like to be there. To see you. To say everything I should’ve said before.

I pressed my hand to my cheek, trying to calm the warmth rising there.

Me: It depends. What are you planning if we see each other?

A moment of silence, then:

Kylian: Just to talk. And to see you smile. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that.

I held my breath.

Me: We’ll see. If you can make it, then… maybe.

His reply came instantly:

Kylian: I’ll do whatever it takes to be there. Promise.

I sighed softly, an invisible weight lifting from my chest. But before I put my phone away, another message appeared:

Kylian: By the way… I know Inès annoys you. But it’s nothing. I didn’t want you to think otherwise.

My fingers stilled. I thought for a moment before replying:

Me: Why are you telling me this?

A long moment passed, and finally, he wrote:

Kylian: Because it’s you. You’re the one who matters, not her.

I froze, my eyes glued to the screen. He didn’t add anything, and neither did I.

I simply liked his message before locking my phone and setting it on the table.

I finished my iced tea in one go, then stood up and left the café. The cool evening air felt refreshing after being inside for a while. I still had some time before heading home, so I decided to make the most of it.

Without thinking too much, I headed downtown.I needed a distraction, and a little shopping seemed like a good idea. Maybe I’d find something interesting, or at least something to take my mind off things.

The streets downtown were bustling, as usual at this time of day. People hurried past, some rushing, others lingering in front of store windows. The lively atmosphere lifted my spirits a little, pulling me out of the strange melancholy that had settled over me earlier.

I stopped in front of a clothing store. Through the window, a dress caught my eye. Simple but elegant, in a soft shade I liked. I hadn’t planned on buying anything, but… why not?

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, immediately appreciating the cool air conditioning. The smell of new fabrics soothed me as I ran my fingers over a few items while browsing the racks.

Then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart skipped a beat.

I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Kylian: Do you already know what you want for your birthday?

I bit my lip, hesitating. He’d never forgotten my birthday, and knowing he still remembered made me feel something.

Me: Hm… Not really. Why?

I put my phone down and continued browsing, stopping again in front of the dress that had caught my eye earlier. I grabbed it and headed to the fitting room.

As I passed a mirror, my phone buzzed again.

Kylian: Because I want to make sure I get you something you’ll like.

I looked up at my reflection, unable to suppress a small smile. He’d always been like this—sincere, even in the simplest things.

Me: I’m sure whatever you choose, I’ll like it.

I set my phone aside and stepped into the fitting room, carefully unfolding the dress before slipping it on. It fit well—light, comfortable… Maybe I could wear it on my birthday.

My phone buzzed again, and this time, I took a moment to breathe before checking the screen.

Kylian: Then I really hope I’ll be there to see it.

My gaze lingered on the message for a few seconds.

Me: Yes 🙂

The message was sent before I could overthink it. Just one word, simple and unambiguous.

Maybe, deep down, I didn’t want to say more.

A few seconds later, I saw the notification under my message: *Kylian liked your message.*

I sighed, turned off my phone, and slipped it into my pocket.

I paid for the dress at the counter and left the store, the bag swinging lightly in my hand. The air outside was cooler now as the sun began to set.

I walked home slowly, the bag with my new dress brushing against my leg. The evening air was pleasant, a refreshing change after the strange day I’d had.

— Y/N?

I turned, slightly surprised to hear my name. Inès was walking toward me, a small smile on her lips.

— Oh, hi, I said, slowing down.

— How are you?

I nodded, unsure where she was going with this.

— Listen, I just wanted to say… I’m sorry, really. For before.

Her tone was simple, sincere. No awkwardness, no exaggeration. Just her, looking at me with a hint of regret.

I stayed silent for a moment, caught off guard by her sudden apology.

— It’s fine, I finally replied.

She smiled slightly, relieved.

— I got carried away sometimes… but, you know, we were kids. Well, we still are, but you know what I mean.

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

— Yeah, I get it.

A brief silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… normal.

— Anyway, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I just wanted you to know, she added, shrugging slightly.

— Thanks, that’s nice of you, I replied simply.

She nodded, then her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it before looking back at me.

— Well, I’ll let you go. See you around,Y/N.

— See you, Inès.

She walked off, and I continued on my way.

It was strange… but not unpleasant. Like a page turning without drama, without shouting. Just an apology, and maybe a new dynamic between us.

At least, that’s what I thought.

///////////

The days passed, and the excitement around my birthday started to grow—at least for everyone else. Sarah and my friends were already talking about what they’d wear, the music we’d play, and even the photos we’d take. I, on the other hand, tried not to think about it too much.

Until today.

I was leaving school with Sarah when she asked:

— Did you book an appointment for your braids yet?

I raised my eyebrows, caught off guard.

— Uh… not yet.

— Y/N! Your birthday’s in two days, she scolded. What are you planning to do, wait until the last minute to find someone available?

I sighed, shaking my head.

— I thought about it, but I was too lazy.

— You’re impossible. Come on, let’s see if Malya has any openings.

Malya was *the* hairstylist in the neighborhood. Everyone went to her for braids, stylish updos, and even hair treatments. If she didn’t have any spots left, I’d be scrambling to find someone else at the last minute.

— Alright, let’s go, I finally said.

We took the bus to her salon, which was a few stops from the school. When we arrived, the place was as lively as ever. Three girls were already getting their hair done, while Malya moved between them, giving instructions to her assistant.

As soon as she saw us, she flashed a big smile.

— Y/N! Long time no see, girl. What are you here for?

— Braids for my birthday, I replied, sitting down on a chair to wait my turn.

— Oh, is it soon? she asked, still working on another client.

— In two days.

— And you waited until now to book an appointment? she said, rolling her eyes. You’re lucky—I have a spot tomorrow afternoon. Otherwise, you’d be out of luck.

I exhaled, relieved.

— I’ll take it.

— Any idea what style you want?

— Long, neat braids. Simple but clean.

She nodded.

— That’ll look great on you. Come by tomorrow at 2 PM, and we’ll get you sorted.

After chatting a bit with Sarah and Malya, we left the salon. I felt a little more excited now. My birthday was really coming up.

On my way home, I got a text from my mom asking me to pick up a few groceries. I stopped by a grocery shop, while browsing the aisles, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Kylian.

Kylian: How are you?

I blinked. It was the first time he’d messaged me since our last conversation.

Me: I’m good. You?

He didn’t reply right away, so I grabbed what I needed and headed to the checkout. Just before leaving the store, my phone buzzed again.

Kylian: Tired, but I’m okay. Can’t wait for Saturday.

I stared at the screen for a moment. He’d just confirmed he was coming.

Me: You’re really coming?

This time, he replied faster.

Kylian: You think I’d say that just to talk?

Me: I don’t know. It’s been months since we really talked, so…

He took a little longer to respond this time. I saw the typing bubbles appear, disappear, then reappear.

Kylian: I shouldn’t have let so much distance grow between us. But yeah, I’m coming. Promise.

I looked down at my screen, gripping my phone a little tighter.

Me: Alright. We’ll see then.

Kylian: Want me to bring something?

I rolled my eyes with a small smile.

Me: Like what?

Kylian: I don’t know, maybe a gift?

Me: Oh, so you were planning to come empty-handed?

Kylian: I’m just asking to make sure you’re expecting one.

Me: Do whatever you want.

He liked my message.

I sighed softly, slipped my phone into my pocket, and continued on my way home.

The days that followed passed without much happening. Between school and my responsibilities at home, I didn’t have much time to think about anything else. Still, every time my phone buzzed, a tiny part of me hoped it was him.

But Kylian didn’t send any more messages.

I didn’t know if it was because he was busy or if he felt everything had already been said, but I decided not to dwell on it. After all, I had other things to focus on… like preparing for my birthday.

Today, I had an appointment with my hairstylist to get my braids done. I loved the feeling of renewal after spending hours getting my hair styled, as if the braids marked the start of a new chapter.

I walked into the salon, greeting the few clients already there. The smell of hair products and the sound of lively chatter immediately put me at ease.

— Y/N! Come on, I’ll take you right away, called Cindy, my hairstylist.

I sat down in the chair as she prepared the braiding hair.

— So, what are we doing today? she asked, gently running her fingers through my hair to detangle it.

— Long, simple braids. My birthday’s coming up, so I want to look good.

— Oh, really? When is it?

— Saturday.

She smiled as she started sectioning my hair.

— That’s tomorrow. Got any plans?

— Just a small thing with friends and family.

— A “small thing”? You know birthdays always turn into big parties, even when you say they’ll be simple, she joked.

I laughed softly.

The hours passed, and the salon remained filled with chatter, laughter, and the sound of combs gliding through hair. I talked with Cindy about everything and nothing, and for a while, I completely forgot about my worries.

It wasn’t until my phone buzzed on my lap that I was brought back to reality.

A message from Kylian.

Kylian: Can’t wait to see you Saturday.

I smiled slightly but didn’t reply right away.

— Is that your boyfriend? Cindy asked, noticing me glance at my screen.

— What? No, no, just a friend.

— A friend who makes you smile like that?

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

— It’s not what you think.

She raised an eyebrow, amused, but didn’t say anything else.

I set my phone back on my lap and left it at that.

//////////////////

Saturday arrived faster than I’d expected.

I woke up that morning with a slight sense of excitement. It wasn’t a big party, just a small gathering with my closest people, but I wanted everything to be perfect. After breakfast, I helped my mom with the final preparations, adjusting decorations and making sure everything was in place.

In the early afternoon, I went upstairs to get ready. My new braids fell neatly over my shoulders as I looked at myself in the mirror. I’d chosen a simple but elegant outfit, something that made me feel confident without being over the top.

As I applied a touch of gloss to my lips, my phone buzzed on the dresser.

A message.

Kylian: On my way. Be there soon.

My heart skipped a beat.

He was really coming.

I stared at the screen for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, I typed:

Me: Ok, see you soon

I hesitated for a second before adding a smiley face. Nothing more.

Taking a deep breath, I set my phone down and gave myself one last look in the mirror.

Downstairs, a few guests had already arrived. My family, my closest friends—they were all laughing and chatting around the buffet my mom had prepared. The atmosphere was light and warm.

But my eyes kept drifting toward the front door.

I tried not to look too eager, but every sound of a car outside made me perk up.

Then, finally, the doorbell rang.

My heart raced as I walked to the door.

I opened it… and there he was.

Kylian stood on the doorstep, a small smile on his lips. He looked taller—not by much, but enough for me to notice. His expression was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were trying to gauge whether he was truly welcome.

He held a small gift bag in one hand.

— Happy birthday, Y/N.

I smiled.

— Thanks, Kylian. Come in.

Kylian stepped inside, glancing around the room at the familiar faces. My friends, my family, a few acquaintances—they were all there, chatting and laughing.

I closed the door behind him, and the sound of conversations filled the space again.

I took a deep breath before breaking the silence between us.

— You can hang your coat over there, I said, pointing to the coat rack near the entrance.

He nodded and did as I said before turning back to me, the gift still in his hand.

I shrugged with a small smile.

— Now’s fine.

He handed me the small bag, and I opened it with curiosity. Inside was a neatly wrapped box. I carefully tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a delicate silver bracelet.

I held it up to the light, noticing a small inscription engraved on the inside.

“Always with you.”

My chest tightened slightly. I looked up at him, searching for an explanation.

— Do you like it?

I swallowed before answering:

— Of course I do.

He smiled slightly, looking relieved.

— I wanted you to have it. Just… so you know I’m still here.

I looked down at the bracelet, running my fingers over the engraving. A warm feeling spread through me.

— Thank you, Kylian. It’s beautiful.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I did what felt most natural: I put it on right away.

— It looks good on you, he said.

I met his gaze, and there was something in his eyes—something soft, almost regretful.

Before either of us could say anything else, a voice interrupted us.

— Y/N, you there?

I turned to see Inès approaching, a smile on her lips.

My stomach tightened slightly.

She glanced at Kylian before focusing on me.

— Can I talk to you for a second?

I felt Kylian’s eyes on me, but I nodded.

— Sure.

I gave Kylian one last look before following Inès to a quieter corner of the room, away from the noise of the party.

Inès seemed a little nervous, fidgeting with the small gift bag she held in her hands.

— Here, this is for you, she said, handing me the bag with a timid smile.

I took the gift, hesitating for a moment before carefully unwrapping it. Inside was a pair of delicate star-shaped earrings. Simple but elegant, exactly my style.

— They’re beautiful, I said, genuinely touched.

— I saw them in a store and immediately thought of you, she replied, shrugging slightly. I thought they’d suit you.

A smile spread across my face as I closed the box gently.

— Thank you, Inès.

She hesitated for a moment before opening her arms.

— Happy birthday, Y/N.

Without overthinking it, I hugged her back. It felt strange after everything that had happened between us, but in that moment, it felt right.

When we pulled away, she seemed to search for the right words before adding:

— I hope you’re happy today.

I looked down for a moment before nodding.

— I am.

She smiled one last time before glancing behind me.

— Well, I’ll let you enjoy your party. We’ll catch up later, okay?

— Okay.

She walked away, and I watched her go, a strange feeling settling in my chest.

It was odd… but not unpleasant. Like a page turning without drama, without shouting. Just an apology, and maybe a new beginning.

At least, that’s what I thought.

The evening continued, the atmosphere light and cheerful. My friends and family laughed, danced, and enjoyed the food my mom had prepared. I tried to soak it all in, to be present in the moment, but my eyes kept drifting toward Kylian.

///

A little while later, I felt a light touch on my arm.

— Come with me, Kylian murmured.

Curious, I followed him to a quieter corner of the room, away from the noise.

— I just wanted to tell you something ,he continued.

His tone was more serious now. My heart started to beat a little faster.

— What? I asked softly.

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. Then, he looked at me.

— You’re important to me, Y/N. I don’t want you to ever doubt that.

I stayed silent, letting his words sink in.

— Even with the distance, even with everything that’s changed… you’ve always mattered.

A shiver ran through me.

Our eyes met one last time, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background. It was just him and me, standing there, the air between us charged with something unspoken.

I stepped closer, my heart pounding in my chest. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his gaze softened, and I saw a flicker of something—nervousness, maybe, or hope.

Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us.

Our lips met in a kiss that was soft and tentative. It wasn’t rushed or dramatic, just a quiet moment that felt like it had been a long time coming. His hand brushed against mine, and I felt a warmth spread through me, steady and comforting.

When we pulled away, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and he gave me a small, shy smile.

— I’ve wanted to do that for a while, he admitted, his voice low.

I smiled back, my own cheeks heating up.

— Me too.

For a moment, we just stood there, the weight of everything we hadn’t said hanging between us. But before either of us could speak, a voice interrupted.

— Y/N! Time to cut the cake!

I turned to see Sarah waving at me from across the room. I glanced back at Kylian.

— Go ahead, he said.

I hesitated, not wanting the moment to end, but he gave me a reassuring smile.

— I’m not going anywhere yet.

I nodded, feeling a little lighter as I walked back to the party.

I turned to see her waving me over to the table where my birthday cake stood, decorated with candles. I walked over, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as everyone gathered around.

— Make a wish! someone called out.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the moment sink in. When I opened them, Kylian was standing nearby, watching me with a small smile.

— Make it a good one, he said softly.

I smiled back, then leaned in and blew out the candles. The room erupted in cheers and applause, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

— Happy birthday! everyone shouted.

As the cake was cut and passed around, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. This was exactly what I loved—a night surrounded by the people I cared about.

///

As the evening went on, I found myself stealing glances at Kylian. He was talking to my mom now, laughing at something she said. It was strange, seeing him here, in my world, after so much time apart. But it felt right, like a piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

Later, as the party started to wind down, he found me again.

— I should probably head out, he said, his tone apologetic. My dad’s here. He came to pick me up a few minutes ago.

I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment.

— Thanks for coming, I said softly.

— I wouldn’t have missed it, he replied.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and squeezed my hand.

— I’ll text you, okay?

— Okay.

One last smile, and then he was gone, disappearing into the night.

I stood there for a moment, the warmth of his hand still lingering in mine. The party continued around me, but my mind was elsewhere, replaying the moments we’d shared.

As I turned back to my friends, I couldn’t help but smile. The night hadn’t gone exactly as I’d expected, but it had been perfect in its own way.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like everything was going to be okay.

/\/\/\/\/\

#fanfic #kylian angst #kylian fanfic #kylian fluff #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian x reader #kylian x you #beyonce #football

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mongoosesthings · 3 days ago

Text

Ladies and Gentlemen,

A Little Taste of my WIP Novel, lots of info will be placed below the piece!

For some context:

Changing Lanes (Working title) is a story about an F1 driver, who is very tightly wound, definition of precision, being forced to teach a NASCAR driver how to race F1. He is the personification of chaos and southern charm. They are fire and ice. And definitely not falling for each other.

Check out the bottom for more info and give me all your thoughts and opinions in the comments!

And now, a scene from a chapter in my book Switching Gears, featuring a forced proximity trope. 🤩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The morning had come far too soon, his eyes stung as he slapped the bedside table buzzing with his phone alarm. Coffee was his only thought. He'd stayed up way too late last night and now it was kicking his ass. Nash flipped the blankets off of himself sending one of the notebooks flying to the floor clattering around. Ensuring the ipad hadn't fallen to the ground aswell he moved both his tebook and ipad to the small desk (covered in training print outs) for safe keeping.

Hardwood floor was cold as Nash shuffled through the halls towards the kitchen, Redline had spared no expense for this training housing. It was huge and high tech, even had an automatic coffee machine, which must have been set on a timer, because the closer he got to the kitchen the more it smelt like coffee. Coming around the corner he stopped dead.

There she was.

Maria Andretti.

In his kitchen.

Her hair pulled back, her sleeves rolled up, barefoot, standing like the damn poster child for early-morning discipline, already brewing coffee with surgical precision. Not a drop spilled. Not a sound made. Like she'd always been there. She was already dressed, it was fucking 6:30 in the morning? Who was up and functional before their coffee finished percolating. Nash blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. "The hell?"

Maria didn't flinch, didn't turn. She just poured boiling water into some kind of contraption that looked suspiciously european. "Buenos días."

He stared, like she might vanish if he just refused to acknowledge her presence. And much to his disappointment, she didn't. "You-" He pointed, as if maybe that clarified things, like she didn't know who he was talking to. "You're in my kitchen."

"Technically," she said, her voice clipped and calm as she pushed the top of the french press down, filtering her coffee, "it is our kitchen. Redline owns the house.”

He made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a choke. "Nobody said a damn thing about roommates."

Maria finally looked at him. Steady. Cool as steel. "Yes. I asked them not to."

So she thought that just because she was an established F1 Driver and technically credited as his mentor she had the right to just play boss and keep information from him? Because she had the accent and the formal training that she could just invade any space she wanted and he'd accept that? This was America, and if Maria thought he wouldn't push back when she entered his space, she was about to learn what the Lone Star hospitality looked like when you walked in uninvited and started rearranging the damn furniture.

At least he had the foresight to wear pajama pants ta bed last night, being shirtless was one thing but there would be no winning this battle if he had decided to walk out here in his boxers or worse. He huffed and walked over to the lower cabinet next to the oven pulling out the classic coffee pot for the stove. He'd done some snooping the day he got ther to be acquainted with where everything was.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱

The stove top percolator had just about finished the coffee, the strong smell made Nash grin as he grabbed a mug from one of the cabinets near the microwave. "Now that's coffee."

Maria was on her second coffee being poured from her french press. A news paper sat in front of her on the island counter. Without looking up from her mug she commented, "That is not coffee. That is industrial runoff."

The blonde held his empty mug to his chest pretending to cover the mug's metaphorical ears, mock offended, "Ma'am, this is a Texas Classic. A Real Man's Brew." Reaching for the pot he poured some into the mug, admittedly it did look dark enough to be oil sludge from an engine, but it was the kind of coffee to wake you up, and that's just what he needed.

Maria on the other hand seemed unamused, setting her mug down on the table, glancing at him, "Real men must have very low standards."

Ouch. He took another sip of his coffee before smacking his lips to make a show of enjoying it, “What's that thing? Looks like it came with an instruction manual," he gestured towards the press sitting on the counter.

"It is a cafetière. I guess you could also say French press. I assumed even Americans were familiar." She hummed moving to the fridge to look for butter to put on the toast she had put in the toaster.

"Well excuse me, Princess Europe." Nash thought he was being slick when he slid her cup aside to make room for his, assuming she had not caught the movement. Maria clocked it immediately when she went to put the butter back on the table. Grabbing her cup and moving it back to her original spot "This side is mine." He couldn't help but lean in a bit, smirking, he was getting under her skin. "I didn't see your name on it." "I was not aware that territorial claims required signage." She muttered, turning to grab the toast that had sprung in the toaster.

With her back turned he reached for her mug, but instead of moving it again he took a long exaggerated sip. Damn it. It was actually good. Too good. It was smooth, dark, and didn't taste like it came from a truck stop. He hated that. Nash wanted to spit it out to make a point, on principle, but stayed to himself, instead, savoring it quietly, knowing she had caught the sip, he cleared his mouth and gave a wicked grin, "Mmm, tastes like colonization."

To be continued…

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

I’ve been working on this for a while, ever since I found out you could become a published author on Amazon for free.

I think holding a piece of your writing in your hands physically is so freaking cool.

That being said I don’t want people really having to pay for what I create, so it’s why I’m dropping lots of stuff here!

I love to talk and chat about writing so if anyone is interested in yapping with me, or want to be a proofreader I desperately need it lol.

Love Yall!

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 2025 #f1 story #f1 novel #sports romance #nascar #vroomvroom #black cat golden retriever #fire and ice #grumpy sunshine #current wip #I will publish this #mark my words #i’m a writer #i swear #forced proximity

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ducks-and-stuff · 2 years ago

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How to build a house; a comprehensive guide by Jimmy Solidarity.

You don’t, first of all. Build one that is. You steal one, and you go to the market for new locks, and you hope and pray that whoever owned this place before you doesn’t come poking around ever again. There’s Ivy on the walls now though, and the roof is partly collapsed over to the left over there, and everything is entirely overgrown so- it’s abandoned, the whole neighborhood looks very abandoned, so they’re probably not. And you’re alone. And it’s fine.

2. It’s fine. You take a dust coated broom from the closet and run the faucet until the rust colored water turns into something that looks drinkable and eat a couple canned peaches from the cellar. You look around at the barely habitable place around you and you fix it. You’re fixing it. You collect boards and nails for the ceiling, take the debris into the waste disposal at the nearest town, the quaint little one you passed on the way over. Kill a pregnant spider, and manage not to abandon the half baked plan of yours entirely when it’s babies subsequently explode everywhere. You do it, you’re doing it, and this is what success must feel like. You clean the bath, the sink, you hate the mirror but it’s okay because the water systems and most of the electrical sockets work. And then you’re done one day. It’s not exactly homely, but it’s a little livable, and when there is nothing left to clean, or salvage, or keep you occupied anymore there’s a queen sized bed in one of the bedrooms. And it is at that point that you look back on everything that has happened over the past year and who knows how long and realize that yes you are tired, and yes a nap sounds very nice. So you curl up into it, and sleep for a very, very, very long time.

3. Realize you were wrong. That’s what comes next You wake up, sit in silence for five minutes, and immediately realize that there’s more to do, isn’t there? There’s always more to do. It’s barely livable anyways and cottagecore? The great Jimmy Solidarity is not some fairy tale in the forest he’s- he’s- he’s the guy who plants a garden. Fixes the fence out back. Fill the empty space with work and work and work and it works. Get a heater, get a water filter, kill some of the cows outside in this lawless land because sheep and chicken and cattle are content to roam the streets apparently and store the meat in an icebox when the fridge randomly stops working. One mini-fridge, two mini-fridges, you are an unstoppable mini-fridge machine Solidarity. Good for you! What’s this? Whatever poor suckers lived here before only owned one of those old boxy tv’s with a twisted antennae? It hasn’t been the 90’s in several decades! Replace it, throw that thing down the cellar stairs and laugh like a maniac when you hear it shatter on the ground. It feels good. It has to feel good. Some weird, beautiful, twisted form of good. Throw more things down the stairs just to to chase that fleeting feeling. The twinkling of bells. Somehow the wall acquires a fist-shaped hole. Somehow your hand gets bruised. This place has everything but bandages, it doesn’t matter. You have a tub of ice cream next to the meat and Golden Girls plays on loop when you lie down to rot in the living room. Scream into the pillow.

4. You get a cat. You’re not supposed to get a cat. You know this. Getting attached to anything ever again is unhealthy, more people should learn this from you. The cat, obviously, does not care. It shows up one day, follows you home after you’ve had the bright idea to go farther than the front porch for some fresh air. Adventure and all that. The cat is probably tired of all the condescending cows roaming the landscape and so follows you home, and every time it leaves it inevitably comes back, and now it’s a cat and it’s yours. One that purs when you scratch it. One that curls up next to the heater sometimes early in the morning. Kills a mouse and presents it proudly at the room to your door. It likes golden girls too, because sometimes at night when bed is too far away it curls up next to you on the couch and you breathe in and out into its fur. The cat looks in your direction when you sit and awkwardly talk on the phone. You name it after a serial killer.

5. You work. You can’t- it was fine when it was just you there because, well, you didn’t matter all that much. Really. Just keep up appearances when going out and all was well. No-one asked questions. But now the damned cat is needy. Giving it some old frozen mini-pancakes was a bad plan actually, because he’s now got a taste for them and won’t leave it alone. Who has disgusting mini-pancakes just lying around anyways? This is England- you- you hope it’s England. Most people here have British accent anyways, but regardless, the cat wants mini-pancakes. You hate the cat for this, but you hate everything else too at this point so it’s fine. The cat- Norman, also has a bad habit of getting into places no matter the amount of sensible barriers are put up between him and the offending object. Walls? Squeeze around them. Windows? Finds another route. Doors? Nope. Magical teleporting cat winds up in the room anyways, which means now you have to clean the dangerous cellar stairs now too. Amazing. You go down there and get a piece of glass stuck in your foot in the process before the bright idea of wearing shoes presents itself. Cats eat meat and cat food, and milk isn’t healthy for them. Norman feeds himself a lot. It doesn’t matter. You used to head into town maybe once every two weeks. Now you do it more. There’s no set reason behind why but you’re blaming the cat anyways. So you get out more, and you have a cat and the cat jumps up onto the off-kilter dining room table to eat some of your meals. There is still no guide out on what to feel about all this. Someone who isn’t you should write a book. 6. You suck it up and hang their pictures on the wall. You don’t have many, but you have some in the backpack downstairs, and that first day of college with Grian and Martyn by your side looks down at you when you place it up in the entrance to the hallway. Grian is smiling cheekily, you are smiling with way too much enthusiasm, you pretend Martyn isn’t there. There are other photos too, all in that same hallway. Your arm around Big B. The property police station. The first day of Evo. A rare moment of you and Pearl wearing smiles that aren’t somewhat strained. So you hang them up, and you get them nice little frames because the photos themselves are crumpled and a little yellowed around the edges. At some point you point to them and say to Norman that these are his uncles and aunts and then pause before you explain why he’s never going to meet them. He steals some of your fish again. Nobody seems to care.

7. You cry a lot

8. You drink tea. You make a good attempt at baking Norman a birthday cake. The sun rises and you rise with it. You decorate a little bit with some stuff you’ve gathered from town and people who’s love language is gift giving. You breathe in. You breathe out. You tell yourself it’s going to be okay, really, and if it isn’t then at least you are trying your best. You stuff the note in the bedroom drawer, and hope that one day you will forget the words etched into the paper. You won’t, you know you won’t, but maybe pretending it will is just what progress looks like.

9. Joel comes over. He- he wants to see where you live. You told him a little about it, and now he wants to see it, because you might have been a little too honest and Joel gets too worried for his own good. Wild animals roaming in the street and all that. Not up to standard. You are Jimmy Solidarity, throw out the old standard and make a new one. Joel doesn’t acknowledge that joke, but he does stare wide eyed at the neighborhood you call home when you finally finish the bike up, and sends you a slightly panicked look you pretend not to see. It’s manageable. The stovetop works. It’s fine. Joel keeps his mouth shut politely all the way up until you enter that hallway, at which point he asks why the walls are so bare. But it’s for the best that you took those pictures down today, really, because had then he might have asked about the people in them, and you would have just gaped like a fish. So you shrug. And his face is scrunched up into the patented Joel ‘I’m very concerned’. stare. It fades when he sees the cat though. He’s more of a dog person himself but everyone’s a Norman person so it doesn’t really matter. You sit down, he pets the cat, you serve some tea with lemon, he wins at Monopoly. Then when it gets too late he tells you he’ll see you for the build battle on Monday, and hugs you goodbye. You tell him not to get eaten by the dangerous wild cows on the way down. You both smile.

10. Home doesn’t sound right. Is it supposed to? Probably. If you live there and all. If you’ve got a cat roommate and photos on the walls more often than not. If you’ve got a bunch of mini-fridges and fairy lights strung up in the bedroom and a little mosaic made up of shattered glass that shimmers when the sun hits it just right. So it’s home. It must be. But still… When Fwhip invites you to join empires you lock the door and pack your bags, and it is much easier than one might have initially considered to leave.

#jimmy solidarity #evo smp #mcyt #mcytblr #Wow guys look it’s that one au I have again #Jimmy and the importance of Saying Goodbye #AU

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