#a coworker recommended it and now i put it on EVERYTHING

[sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine]

my fellow cilantro lovers you need to get into the trader joes zhoug sauce

[covenofagatha]

Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 1)

Hot, rich, lawyer Agatha comes into the bakery where you work and she takes quite an interest in you (or Sugar mommy Agatha)

Word count: 2000

Warnings: none yet

A/N: hope you guys like this one!

The bakery is always dead on Sunday afternoons. 

You’re not really sure why, maybe people are getting ready for the week or something, but it seems that in the town of Westview, no one craves sweets on Sundays. 

You’re not complaining, though. That just means you get to sit in an empty store and scroll on your phone and still get paid. 

Working at the bakery part time was a nice way to make some money while you finish up college, and to be honest, you did really like it. Your coworkers were all super nice and it wasn’t a very demanding job either. 

And then the bell on the door rings. You look up from your phone, startled. 

It’s a woman that you’ve never seen before. 

She’s wearing a tight white blouse under a brown blazer and smart gray pants. Her long, dark hair flows freely over one shoulder and her pale skin and blue eyes are striking. She is attractive. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve always had a thing for older women. 

“Hi,” she says, coming to a stop in front of the counter. 

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” You ask the rehearsed question. You wouldn’t be surprised if you said it in your sleep at this point. 

“What do you recommend?” 

You’re not even sure she’s looked at the menu that’s posted above the counter. “Depends on what you like. We have cupcakes, cake, pastries. It’s all good. What are you in the mood for?” 

You might be imagining it, but it really seems like her eyes rake up and down your body. She shrugs noncommittally. “Something fresh, something…sweet.” You swallow hard at the glint of heat in her eyes. 

“I just took a batch of cupcakes out of the oven,” you say. “Do you like red velvet?” 

“Sure, hon. I’ll take three,” she says. You smile wearily and get to work packaging them up. She watches you the whole time. 

You ring up the purchase on the register and clear your throat. “That’ll be $7.50.” She smirks and pulls out her wallet, flipping through bills. She pulls one out and hands it to you and your mouth falls open. 

It's $50.

“Keep the change,” she says with a wink. She grabs the box and walks swiftly out of the bakery. 

You assume it’s a one-time thing and pocket the extra money. You secretly hope she comes back though. 

And sure enough, she struts back in three days later, dressed just as nicely as she was the first time. You’re working the morning shift before your afternoon class and you are sipping on a desperately needed cup of coffee. She must be really rich, you think as she walks up, a smile playing on her lips. 

“Morning, hon,” she says. 

“Good morning, how are you doing today?” 

“Better now,” she replies and you can feel your cheeks getting hotter. “Can I get an espresso and a piece of cinnamon crumb cake?” 

“Of course. Anything else?” 

She raises an eyebrow teasingly like she wants to make a joke but says, “That’s all, dear. Thank you.” 

“Your total comes to $8.75,” you tell her. “For here or to-go?”

“For here, please.”

“I’ll get you the cake and then the coffee will be ready soon.” 

When you turn back with the piece of cake on a plate, she’s holding another $50 bill between her fingers. 

“Oh, I can’t–” She cuts you off by putting it into your uniform shirt pocket and pats it. You freeze with her hand basically touching your boob. She smirks and takes the plate from your hand and goes to sit in a corner booth. You don’t allow yourself to look at her as you make her espresso. 

She’s on her phone when you walk over to her, but she looks up earnestly when you put the cup down in front of her. 

“Here’s your coffee,” you say and you’re turning around to go back behind the counter when she touches your wrist. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” She asks, and it’s clear she’s not asking. And even if she was, she’s tipped you almost more than you make in a day on two separate occasions. You plop down on the other side of the table. “How do you like working here?” 

“Oh, um, it’s nice. I enjoy it. Plus we get dessert for free so can’t complain,” you say, a little surprised by the question. 

“Are you still in college?” 

“Yeah, I’m graduating in the spring.” She nods like she’s deep in thought. “What do you do?” 

“I’m a lawyer,” she answers, confidence oozing from her voice. Her tipping so much makes a lot more sense now. You launch into a series of questions, absolutely fascinated by her words, and she gives you everything you want. 

You’re so engrossed in her stories that you almost miss the bell to the bakery ringing. You suddenly jolt and remember that you’re supposed to be working. 

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say hastily and dart back behind the counter. A man orders a croissant and a coffee and you get his order out quickly. You want to back over to the woman, but you feel like you shouldn’t, especially with the other customer in here now. You can feel her looking at you the whole time though. 

A few minutes later she walks back up to the counter and places her empty coffee cup and plate down. 

“Oh, thank you,” you say, surprised. You usually clean off the tables yourself. 

“Thank you,” she says. Her eyes sweep over your face. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 

“I’ll be here,” you joke lamely but she smirks regardless. “I’m y/n.” 

“I know,” she responds, reaching over again to tap on the tag that clearly says your name. You blush furiously and fight the urge to hide your face in your hands. “I’m Agatha.” 

“Nice to meet you, Agatha,” you say, trying out her name on your tongue. You like how it sounds, how it feels. 

“Have a good day, hon.” Before you can tell her to have one too, she’s on her way out of the bakery, the bell announcing her departure. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. How is it that she can have this much effect on you after meeting her twice? 

You take the bill from your shirt pocket and put it in the register, collecting the change. Sure she’s rich, but she doesn’t have to be giving you this much money. 

So why is she? 

You spend the rest of the day thinking about Agatha. 

The next day, she comes strolling in at the exact same time. You’re doing some school work on your laptop and you hope you don’t visibly perk up as much as you feel. You wonder if those three days you didn’t see her between the first meeting and yesterday she had come by when you weren't on shift. 

But that’s a crazy thought, because surely she isn’t coming by just to see you. She orders the same thing: an espresso with a piece of cinnamon crumb cake. 

She gives you another crisp $50 bill.

“I know you have money to burn, being a fancy lawyer and all,” you tease. “But please don’t go broke buying coffee and cake.”  

She laughs melodically. “Doll, I’m not just buying coffee and cake, I’m thanking the excellent service.” And once again, she’s made you flush. You inwardly tell yourself that you need to stop letting her have such an effect on you. 

You get her the cake and she goes to sit down at the booth from yesterday and you begin making her coffee. You’re lost in thought, wondering if Agatha will invite you to sit with her again, when your hand shakes as you're pouring coffee from the pot to the cup and splashes onto your hand. 

You gasp loudly and drop the pot. It shatters all over the counter and soaks your laptop. 

“Oh, god, no!” You groan and rush to grab paper towels. You quickly sop up the mess from your laptop and carefully collect the pieces of glass. 

“Everything okay?” Agatha asks and you turn to find her standing at the counter again, a look of worry on her face. 

“Yeah, god, I’m sorry, I accidentally dropped the coffee,” you sputter. You throw the towels away and open up your computer, frantically pressing the power button.

It doesn’t turn on. 

With a defeated sigh, you close it and pinch the bridge of your nose. Of fucking course. You aren’t sure how you’re going to pay for a new laptop. 

“You okay?” Concern laces Agatha’s voice. 

You scoff and shrug. “There could not be a worse time for my computer to break. I have school work that needs to be done – I have an exam to take! And now I have to go find time to go to the store and buy a new one and ugh. It’s just so frustrating.” It feels good to vent and then you realize that you’re talking to basically a complete stranger. You straighten up. “Sorry, let me get a new pot and I’ll have that espresso right up.” 

She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ll get it next time.” She winks at you. 

“Next time it’s on the house,” you say. She laughs like it’s some sort of inside joke. Granted, if she keeps tipping like she does, you could buy yourself a new computer in no time. 

You still don’t know why she’s doing it. You open your mouth to say something, maybe ask her what she’s doing here, but she cuts you off. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you later?” She asks, sounding slightly hopeful. 

“You know where I’ll be,” you answer, feeling a longing pang in your chest as her face lights up at your cheesy comment. 

“Sorry about your laptop,” she adds before she sticks another $20 in the tip jar. You gape at her as she smirks and walks out. She is quite literally just throwing cash at you. 

And it doesn’t stop there either. 

You’re just about to finish up your shift when a man walks in, carrying a white plastic bag and a clipboard. 

“Y/n?” He asks, looking at a piece of paper. You affirm and he puts the bag on the counter in front of you. “Sign here, please?” You’re not quite sure what’s happening at all but you do as you’re told. 

Once he walks out of the bakery, you practically tear open the bag to see what’s in it. The first thing you find is a note. 

Hope this will suffice. Let me know if you like it. X, Agatha. And then a number at the bottom. Your mouth drops open and you go back into the bag and pull out a box. You take the top off and inside is a sleek, dark, new MacBook Air. Probably close to a thousand dollars.  

“Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath. You run your hands over the smooth cover and open it up. It blinks to life and you actually laugh out loud. 

Fucking Agatha. You’ve met her three times and she just bought you a brand new computer because you accidentally spilled coffee on yours just that morning. 

Speaking of the older woman. You pull out your phone and type the number into it. 

It’s y/n. Thank you so much for the laptop! You are literally a lifesaver. Is there anything I can do to repay you? I’d give you free coffee and cake for the rest of your life, but I might get fired. Thanks again!  You decide it’s a good mix of gratitude and humor and send it. 

Bubbles immediately appear and you wait with bated breath. 

Finally a response appears and heat courses through your veins. 

Of course, doll, it’s my pleasure. And don’t worry about paying me back just yet. I’m sure we’ll figure something out ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyone want to be my sugar mommy lol

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a terrible day at work, you find an unexpected dose of comfort in an absurd late-night conversation with your coworker.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, you make a huge mistake at work (unspecified) for which you get seriously chewed out by hotch, too many beds trope, ridiculously long considering the entire plot revolves around a single conversation, gets kinda wild at the end, spencer hits his head, but it’s nothing serious

𝐚/𝐧: the ending inspired by a situation from my life, but don’t worry, my head is fine now (in the general sense of the word) (no one kissed my forehead...) i recommend reading it in bed before sleep <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.7 k

"Hotch, but I thought—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," your boss replied in his typical, emotionless tone, which in this particular situation sent a distinct chill down your spine. Every word he uttered felt like a frozen dagger, driven straight between your ribs and left there, while the coldness spread across your skin in the form of goosebumps. "What you did was not only reckless but also undermined all of today’s hard work by the entire team. They put tremendous effort into locating the unsub and cornering him at that specific location, and because of your decision, he managed to escape. Every additional day this man remains free could cost someone their life—an innocent person."

You stood before him in an empty parking lot across from the hotel where your entire team was staying. It wasn’t exactly the typical setting for delivering a reprimand, but since you were far from the office, there wasn’t a better option at hand. And while you were teetering on the edge of tears—tears you were desperately holding back to avoid appearing like a weak little girl in his eyes—you were grateful for one thing. Grateful that he had chosen to chastise you in private. One-on-one. Away from everyone else.

A moment of silence fell between you, and you tried not to lower your head like a chastised child—but that’s exactly how you felt. Not just ashamed, but overwhelmingly guilty. As someone who had only recently joined the BAU, you’d never made such an egregious mistake before. A mistake that could cost someone their life. Deep down, you had clung to the naive hope that this moment would never come. That if you followed the instructions of those more experienced than you with feigned confidence, something like this could be avoided.

But reality had placed you in a completely different position—one where, for a brief moment, the weight of everything rested squarely on your shoulders. You failed, and the unsub escaped.

The wind around you blew with a certain bitterness, tugging at your hair. It drowned out the sound of your heavy breathing, your racing heartbeat, and the loud gulp as you swallowed. Hotch, saying nothing, studied you with a measured gaze. You couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted allowing you into this job.

“I wanted you to be aware of that,” he said, his tone less harsh now but tinged with a certain disappointment that only deepened the guilt gnawing at you. He nodded, signaling you were free to go. “That’s all I had to say.”

He walked away, and watching his figure dissolve into the darkness in such a dramatic manner, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The laugh immediately turned into the beginning of a sob, which you quickly stifled, waving your hand in front of your face. You stood there for a moment, your feet seemingly rooted to the parking lot, as though the concrete were still fresh, hardening around your shoes.

In your experience, failure almost always came hand in hand with a sense of vulnerability, transporting you into a completely different, weaker body, one without any shields. All the achievements of the past few years, including making it into the BAU at such a young age, seemed to melt away, and once again, you were nothing.

You knew you couldn’t stand there all night, but in a way, it felt safer. In the motel, you might run into someone from the team. You might accidentally meet their gaze, and you’d see the disappointment in their eyes. After all those weeks of trying to prove your worth to them, of showing that you even belonged in this job, the last thing you wanted was to face that look.

To muster some courage, you took a deep, slow breath. You needed to slip into your room unnoticed, lie down in bed, hoping that the night would at least slightly cleanse you of your guilt. Hotch was absolutely right. Not only had you wasted an entire day of hard work, but you’d also put civilians from that area in danger. What if tomorrow another person became a victim?

The thought tormented you so much that by the time you reached your door, you were massaging your temples. You inserted the key you had picked up from the front desk into the lock, turned it, and was about to pull the handle… but it was locked. Frustrated, you figured the universe had simply decided to unite all of its forces against you as some kind of punishment. Before you could resort to a tired kick at the door and curl up in a ball in the hallway, you tried again. This time, the door opened without issue.

So absorbed in yourself, your situation, and your grievances, you didn’t even notice that inside, not only was the light on, but there were someone’s belongings—and, most importantly, someone else. It wasn’t until you took off your coat and stepped further into the room (if you could even call it that, it was an exceptionally small space) and came face to face with Spencer Reid that you realized you weren’t alone.

You stopped mid-step, stunned as if the least expected thing at that moment had just appeared before you—a turtle on stilts wearing a cowboy hat, or some other kind of religious prophet.

Quick note—this wasn't the first time you and Reid had shared a room during cases. Specifically, the bed. It all started when you found out he struggled with a fear of the dark, and someone’s presence really helped him feel better. In fact, at first, he insisted on sleeping on the floor, but you couldn't just watch him suffer on that uncomfortable surface every night. And, you had to admit, sometimes after an especially harrowing day in your, let’s be honest, stressful job, it felt nice to fall asleep next to someone.

As usual, it was him who came to you. Late at night, to your room, when he felt like sleeping would be particularly difficult. He was never there from the start…

"It turns out all the rooms here are double," he blurted out hastily upon seeing you, his tone overly explanatory.

When you walked in, he was in the middle of pulling something out of his suitcase. He straightened up, and you noticed he was wearing a loose T-shirt, his hair damp from a shower, and in his hand, he held that familiar white sweater you often teased him about, the one with an embroidered bear wearing glasses.

"I mean, the rest of the team got roomed together too, so we’re not some weird exception. I hope this doesn’t bother you. If it does, well, maybe we can switch somehow… I know Elle and JJ are together, and I think they only have two beds in their room, but maybe... or I could go with Derek…”

"Oh, come on," you waved dismissively, your tone sounding a bit irritated, like you were shooing away an annoying fly. The truth was, you were exhausted from the day and didn’t want to worry about the accommodation on top of everything else.

Reid stopped mid-sentence, his lips slightly parted. You felt guilty again as you had no reason to speak to him like that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your frustration.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, your tense posture easing a little as you realized you were no longer outside, under the sharp, yet truthful words of your boss. "Really... I'm sorry, Reid. It doesn't bother me at all. Not one bit," you reassured him, sincerely.

He studied you in silence for a moment, his face showing a concerned, analytical expression.

"Actually, we’ve shared a room before," you added almost immediately, forcing a little chuckle. "And not just once. Well, at least now we have two beds…"

"Did you... did you talk to Hotch?"

The question was asked with hesitation, on a breath. Well, it finally meant confronting everything that had happened that day. You looked him straight in the eyes, searching for judgment or any hint of dislike toward you. But there was none. Instead, you found concern and discomfort at the fact that he had even brought up the subject.

"It’s... it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it," he quickly corrected himself, giving a slight nod. "You... you have every right, I don’t expect you to explain anything to me, your conversation with the boss is your private matter... oh God, I feel like with every word I say, my statement is losing more and more sense, and I’m getting more and more tangled in it, isn’t that right?"

He stared at you with furrowed brows, waiting for your reaction. It turned out to be... a burst of laughter. You honestly couldn’t help yourself.

“I hate to admit it, but yeah, you’re right. You completely lost your train of thought. Maybe we should just pretend I’ve only just walked through that door, huh?”

“That’s... that’s actually a very good suggestion. So... so, uh, hi?”

Your lips curved into a smile, this time genuine.

“Hi, Reid.”

He managed to improve your mood in less than five minutes after you’d received a serious reprimand. You were immensely glad to have ended up with him in the room lottery. Shaking your head in disbelief, you began getting ready for bed without a word. He didn’t say anything either, sensing you needed a bit of space after everything that had happened. Speaking of space...

“This room is alarmingly small, don’t you think?” you said, returning from the shower and slowly sliding under your blanket. Fifteen minutes under scalding hot water had helped your body relax, and you no longer felt like you might throw up on your own feet at any moment. “It’s like some sort of exclusive cupboard under the stairs. Still a cupboard, though. Look, I can practically touch you.”

You stretched out your arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, even though you were sitting on neighboring beds, your fingertips almost brushed the fabric of his shirt. Between you was a massive nightstand made of dark wood, the same as the windowsill and the floor. On it sat a slightly old-fashioned bedside lamp with a glass base and a slightly yellowed lampshade. Other than that, there wasn’t much furniture. Not that there would’ve been room for any.

“Do you hear that?” Reid asked enigmatically, sitting up straighter on his bed.

You looked at him, intrigued.

��Listen closely…is that…paper rustling? Morgan drafting his resignation?”

You chuckled. Your coworker had a particular sensitivity to the motels you stayed in and their condition. He firmly believed that since you risked your lives almost daily during dangerous cases and investigations, you deserved accommodations that were at least decent. And that wasn’t always what you got.

“Don’t worry, as long as the shower has hot water, we don’t have to fear him leaving,” you said. “Though now that I think about it, I can’t blame Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Potter. If I lived in such a claustrophobic little room, I’d convince myself I was a wizard too. Can I turn off the lamp?"

You politely asked, as usual, leaving plenty of room for potential conversation. Aware of his fear, you always ensured he felt comfortable with the encroaching darkness. Reid looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"Maybe... maybe it could stay on for a bit longer? If that's..."

"That’s okay," you finished for him, knowing what he intended to say.

A fleeting, grateful expression crossed his face. Seeing it, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You were glad he no longer felt as ashamed of his unease with the dark. Besides, you preferred the light to stay on too. You were afraid of what the darkness might conceal—the worries and anxieties it could bring… already was bringing.

Mainly, it was the looping words of your boss, the thought of how you'd messed up, and the rest of the team. Well, there was one thing that eased your mind in that regard: knowing that Reid was lying in the bed next to yours and recalling the look on his face when he saw you. He wasn’t angry that you’d let the unsub get away. Maybe the others weren’t as furious with you as you’d imagined.

Or maybe it was the opposite?

Maybe he, as the second-youngest member of the team after you, was the only one showing you any understanding. And the others, perhaps, harbored nothing but disdain, their resentment growing stronger at the mere thought of you…

"You're shivering."

Reid's observation reached your ears as you lay on your side, facing away from him. His voice was gentle, blending seamlessly with the quiet that had previously enveloped the room, not cutting through the sound of your sleepy breaths but accompanying it. Not knowing how to respond, you gave a small shrug. He probably saw it—you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn't intrusive, just a worried glance from the corner of his eye.

"I could turn up the temperature if you're cold. Do you want me to?"

Your trembling had nothing to do with the cold, but admitting that felt like too much. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to steady your restless body.

"Yeah, if you don’t mind," you murmured in response.

It was easier to blame it on the chill. Still, hearing him get up and move toward the thermostat, you felt a pang of guilt for pulling him out of bed. He should already be asleep. There was so much work waiting for you both tomorrow. Another day of the investigation—a case that could have been solved already if not for you…

"I'm afraid…it doesn’t seem to work," Reid said thoughtfully. He fiddled with it for a moment longer before letting out a sigh and returning to his bed, though he didn’t lie down right away. He paused in the narrow space between your beds, and you felt his gaze again, wondering what it meant this time.

"Maybe… I don’t know, would you want my sweater? You know which one. It's…too warm for me, but since you're freezing…”

Reid’s voice was soft, tinged with an almost shy kindness that made your chest tighten. You didn’t need to turn around to picture the small, uncertain smile that likely accompanied his offer. Of course, you knew exactly which one he meant. He had received it as a Christmas gift from Penelope, and it was quite light and breathable. But what truly made it a staple in his pajamas was the adorable bear wearing glasses that appeared on the front. Sometimes, when you slept in the same bed, you could feel the softness of its fabric.

You had just turned toward him, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t actually cold—you had been lying about that all along—but still... the offer lingered in your mind. His kindness, followed by the concern. You felt that taking his specific sweater, which was not only comfortable but also... well, his, could effectively calm your trembling limbs and ease your anxiety.

"Would you like to give it to me?" you asked, making sure. "You don't have to."

He shrugged slightly and immediately bent down to grab the suitcase tucked under the bed. The sweater in question was right on top, so he could reach for it at any moment when he felt the need for an extra layer.

"I know I don't have to," he replied, pausing for a moment with the sweater in hand. "But, you know, I want to. It's just a sweater."

"Won't Penelope be mad if you're giving it away like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She’d be furious…" he started, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the edge of your bed, his forehead lightly furrowed. After a serious moment of hesitation, he sat on the bed, as gently as if he feared it would burn him. He stretched the sweater out towards you. "…if I gave it to anyone else. But in this case, she'd probably scold me if I didn’t give it to you."

You took it from him. Though it wasn’t one of those thick, bulky sweaters, it felt surprisingly heavy in your hands.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," you replied after a moment of hesitation, letting out a sigh. "After today."

Reid looked at your face in silence. Suddenly, you started regretting not turning off the lamp after all. His gaze seemed piercing, too piercing. It surely noted every shadow of doubt and shame cast by the subtle changes in your expression.

“That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

For a moment, you both stared at each other in silence. You sighed, shifting slightly to the side, making room beside you.

“Come on. It’s easier for me to talk when I don’t have someone directly in front of me.”

Surprised, he stared at the small space next to you, shaking his head slightly.

“But… this bed is kind of ridiculously small, don’t you think?”

“I’m not that wide, Reid. If that’s what you’re suggesting…”

“That’s absolutely not what I meant, and I definitely wasn’t suggesting anything,” he quickly explained. “Well, maybe apart from the fact that every tiny movement will risk us both falling off…” He looked at you with an unchanged expression, patiently pointing to the spot next to you and sighed in defeat. “Okay, I feel like I’m not winning this one…”

Well, he had a point. After a while of shifting around, trying to find a position where you wouldn’t keep elbowing each other in the ribs, and after countless accidental jabs and whispered apologies, it ended with him half-lying, half-sitting, leaning against the headboard of the narrow bed, while you lay flat on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His figure cast a gentle shadow over you, making the room feel darker than it really was. It had a calming effect. Or maybe it was just the presence of someone so close by. Or perhaps it was the touch of the soft sweater, the fabric resting between your fingers, in the way one holds a rosary. Maybe it was a little bit of all those things.

"I screwed up today," you said. Though your voice was soft, there was no trace of gentleness in your tone. From the way you were lying, you could see his face, and you noticed his lips part slightly, as if to deny it. "And don't try to convince me otherwise, Reid. I knew that even before Hotch said it to my face."

You heard him sigh softly.

"I guess it wasn't a pleasant conversation."

"Oh, Reid, it was like a horror movie. But I don't blame him for anything he said. I deserved to hear it all from someone else's mouth, not just from my own head." Restlessly, you began to fiddle with the sweater like a stress toy. He watched the movement of your hands, alternating between that and the slight trembling of your chin. "At least the talk with him is over. Now I'm scared... scared of what’s with the rest of the team."

You voiced your biggest worry out loud, and there was a silence as he pondered it.

“I think… I think we’ve talked about this before,” he replied finally, clearing his throat. “About how you’re afraid of what others will think of you. And I don’t want to repeat myself, but... you need to look at it a bit differently. We all started somewhere, we were all rookies. If we got mad at each other every time someone messed up, well, there wouldn’t be a team. Of course, we keep in mind all the mistakes we've made in the past..."

“You're good at comforting...” you muttered bitterly.

"...But we don’t dwell on them unnecessarily," he finished. "We're only human, you know. It’s estimated that each person makes about five to seven mistakes a day. If we assume you live to be about eighty... though of course, I wish you much more than that, that would be between 150,000 and 200,000."

You snorted, listening to those statistics.

“I feel like I’ve already used up half of my lifetime quota today,” you confessed, while also reflecting on the first part of his statement. About the team, who, according to him, wasn’t going to hold a grudge against you…

Reid paused for a moment, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he said after a while. “Just make sure you’re really careful when you’re old. You won’t forget when your grandkids have birthdays.”

“Damn, I think that’s the problem. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. I’ll probably mix up their names. Or call them all by the same one. The prettiest one, of course. The least common one.”

“Just make sure you get a good calendar,” he suggested. “One that’ll remember everything for you. Dates, names.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist,” he agreed.

You spent a long moment without bringing up any new topics, but laughing quietly about the course of the conversation. If you looked at it that way, this was probably the only time in your life you talked to someone about being an old lady with a questionable memory and joint problems with amusement rather than sheer terror. Although the bed was seriously small, you felt more comfortable than ever before. You were sinking deeper into the mattress, into his side, into relaxation. You wondered if and when, or even if, he planned to go back to his own bed. There was really no reason for him to stay...but was there any reason for him to leave?

“And you?” you spoke again after a long moment. You felt like the only way to keep him around was by saying something. Not that you were desperate to have him stay… “Have you ever messed up on a case? Like, seriously messed up?”

"I could lie and say I haven't," he noticed.

He shifted slightly, likely due to exhaustion, as his back had been slowly sliding down the headboard for a while, until it finally sank into the mattress. His head rested on the pillow right next to yours, closer than ever before. Well, you could only blame the narrow bed for that. Because of the tight space, you had to lie on your side, which meant your breath brushed against his cheek.

"You could. But then I'd ask Elle for the truth, and you'd only end up compromising yourself."

"That's true. That's why I'm telling you. Just promise you won't laugh."

"This sounds serious. Come on, what did you do?" you asked, genuinely curious, a smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, or let me guess."

He lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. However, when you suggested it, he slowly and hesitantly turned onto his side as well, so that you were face to face. He probably wanted to see your reaction, the laughter you'd burst into once he told you, whatever it was.

"You have three guesses," he announced. He tried to gesture to you encouragingly with his head, but then, for a split second, his chin brushed against yours. Slightly flustered, he quickly froze again.

For a moment, something changed in your breath. You bit your lip, thinking. His gaze briefly dropped to it.

"Okay, so that’s the first one," you said, taking in more air than you probably needed. You didn’t really understand what was happening, but it seemed like you were running out of oxygen faster than you should have been. "Did you confuse your weapon with a taser?"

"Really, that was the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about a mistake I might have made?" he scoffed. His breath warmed your face in a pleasant way.

"Oh, sorry, but it’s really hard for me to come up with anything when it comes to a genius with eidetic memory," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I don’t know, did you lose some evidence? Something really important?" you suggested, trying to read confirmation from his brown, unusually gentle eyes at that moment. He gently shook his head.

"Now, I honestly don’t know. Okay, this might sound like some soap opera plot, but here goes. Were you supposed to keep an eye on a potential victim and ended up having a passionate affair with them?"

You lowered your voice to a flirtatious whisper as you said the last words.

For a moment, he held your gaze. He met it like an opponent, sending an exciting shiver down your spine. And it wasn’t because of the cold. But then, he submissively lowered his eyes. You let out such a strong burst of laughter that you started to worry if you had accidentally spat on him.

"Spencer Reid, you’re joking with me, right?"

He turned back onto his back again, avoiding looking at your wide-open mouth and amused eyes. You propped yourself up on your elbow, gently nudging his shoulder.

"What kind of... seductress beast are you? Because I don't know how else to call it," you muttered, still shaking your head from side to side. "Wow, I didn’t know this side of you."

"There’s no side like that," he replied defensively, closing his eyes with some embarrassment. "It was... she was an actress who had a stalker..."

"An actress?"

"...and it just happened that way! But it was definitely a mistake. And it wasn’t any... passionate affair, as you called it. I put her in unnecessary danger when we kissed in the pool..."

"In the pool?"

"Oh, why do I even keep talking?" he groaned, pressing one hand to his tightly closed eyes. He suddenly snorted. "Sure, laugh even louder. Gideon and Derek in the next room won't mind if you wake them up."

"Oh, don't change the subject now. You seduced an actress. Was she famous?"

"I didn’t seduce her..."

"So, she seduced you?"

Reid sighed, resigned.

"Well, I’d put it that way," he admitted finally, quietly, with a certain childish indignation, as if he had simply decided to surrender to the onslaught of your questions. He didn’t reveal much, but after a moment, you learned a few important details about the case, and with some... relief, you realized you didn’t recognize the actress’s name. But why relief?

Suddenly, however, the hysterical amusement faded, leaving you with a genuine dilemma. Reid was still lying on his back, avoiding your mocking gaze and comments. Before you could stop yourself, you lightly touched his arm to get his attention. He nodded questioningly.

"I know this might be a very strange and, above all, an extremely personal question, but what does it take to seduce you?" you asked.

Reid froze, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just realized that I’ve probably never seen you actively filter anyone. Consciously, that is. Because sometimes it happens, and you don’t even notice it," he opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly covered it with your hand. Confused, he looked down at it. "Don’t even try to deny it, everyone would confirm it. But I’m trying to imagine the kind of person you would lose your head for, and I’ve got a few conflicting ideas. So, I’ll repeat the question. What does it take to seduce you? Asking for a friend, of course."

Reid flinched as if alarmed.

"What friend?"

"My God, it’s just a figure of speech."

He sighed, and the way he shook his head showed a certain disbelief.

"You’re surprisingly hyperactive, considering the time. Maybe we should go to bed?"

"No, I asked you a question," you protested. "Does she have to be pretty? Smart? Probably both, right?"

He looked at you with the same expression—simultaneously embarrassed, disbelieving, shocked, amused, offended, and above all, thoroughly confused.

"I feel like this question is going to keep you up tonight. So, for the sake of your own sleep, I’ll answer briefly. And I don’t care if my answer satisfies you or not." Reid paused, and you waved your hand, urging him to continue. He sighed. "She just... has to seem... interesting."

"Was there any more evasive answer?" you snorted, disappointed.

"Did you expect an entire essay?"

 "Well, honestly, yes. Last time you talked to me for over thirty minutes about bioluminescence and what causes it. You were able to go on and on about that, but not this time?"

You knew by now you were just teasing him, playing with his nerves as if it were an instrument you'd been mastering since early childhood, attending lessons three times a week and slowly climbing the ranks of your musical career. 

Your conversations often felt like a game of ping-pong, with each of you exchanging comments, remarks, observations, and verbal jabs at a pace that was downright wild. Time completely vanished for you then, feeling as though you could carry on such a dialogue forever.

 "Goodnight," he finally said, without much firmness in his voice. Well, that was probably more out of practicality than a strong desire to end the chat. It was indeed late. "I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. Or you into me."

 "So, you're already tired of talking to me?" you asked, feigning hurt. You even tilted your head dramatically.

For a moment, he hesitated to reply, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face, a barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips.

 "Quite the opposite," he finally responded. You raised your eyebrows, not allowing yourself to feel satisfied with his words in case they turned out to be pure sarcasm. "So…goodnight."

As a result of some sort of scuffle, you found yourselves in a rather chaotic position. Well, you were definitely taking up most of the bed, comfortably sprawled in the center. He lay more on the edge, somewhere between lying on his back and on his side. Looking at him and his slightly flushed cheeks, which were quite an endearing sight, you suddenly realized the meaning of his earlier words. I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. So he did intend to sleep with you on this narrow bed, when there was a perfectly empty one, entirely at his disposal, just beside you? An unexpected choice, but… you weren’t complaining. In fact, you were kind of okay with it. With a slightly enigmatic expression, you leaned closer to him, intending to say something softly.

 Reid perked up, as although he had officially ended the conversation, he was still curious about what you were about to say.

 "Goodnight," you said slowly, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair. You should have moved away, giving him space to settle more comfortably, but you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't add, “Seductive beast."

“God, nothing in life will ever make me regret more than telling you about this,” he sighed, genuinely concerned about that prospect.

You let out a snort and were about to mumble something else when he, with resignation, turned fully onto his back. Well... at least he tried. He was so close to the edge of the mattress that it simply ended beneath him.

You shot up into a sitting position, startled by the sudden noise and the chaos that filled the room.

“Spencer,” you managed to gasp, jumping off the bed to check on him.

It wasn't an easy task; everything was submerged in darkness. If falling off the bed itself didn't sound like one of the most humiliating accidents a person could have, adding to it the fact that he had hit his head on the wide dresser next to the bed made it worse. And, as a result, the nightlight had been knocked over and shattered...

Fumbling, you reached for the light switch, and when the room was lit again, you moved to him. Kneeling beside Reid, who was slowly propping himself up, you gently held his shoulders.

"Careful, Jesus, you hit your head so hard..."

He squinted and furrowed most of his face, letting out a sharp breath.

 "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, carefully inspecting his head and looking for any serious injuries, maybe some blood... but you saw nothing

Spencer looked at you with a sort of seriousness, as if the pain had suddenly faded.

"What else is it supposed to do, tickle?"

For a moment, the room fell quieter, but it was impossible to ignore the mutual sense of relief that things hadn’t turned out worse. His words threw you off a bit; at first, you didn’t fully grasp their meaning. Instead, you focused entirely on analyzing his face, his body language, his behavior. You were afraid he might have a concussion.

"I have absolutely no medical training, but..." you paused, casting another worried glance his way. Reid was slowly starting to shake off the shock and disorientation. "But judging by how quickly your sarcasm came back, I’d say you’re going to be fine."

He let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a groan.

"Doctor of the year, right here…"

Just then, a loud knock echoed on the door. The door to your room

 “Is someone murdering you guys in there or what?” Morgan’s concerned voice called out.

You exchanged glances—both equally confused and, in a way, slightly terrified. Clearing your throat, you spoke up.

“Well, since I’m the reason this whole situation happened, I guess it’s on me to explain to him how it even got to this point,” you sighed. When he didn’t react, you raised your eyebrows. “No objections? No heroic offers to take this off my hands?”

“Not a chance,” he replied curtly, shaking his head before wincing briefly as another wave of pain clearly shot through it.

You told him, worried, to stay down for a little while longer for his own good.

 “And as my mom used to say,” you added, slowly starting to stand, glancing briefly toward the door. Morgan knocked again—or rather, pounded on it hard enough to nearly take it off its hinges.

Taking your time, you rested both hands on Reid’s shoulders in an almost protective gesture. Completely ignoring the surprised look on his face, you brushed your lips against his forehead.

 “A kiss will make it better.”

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

chapter 1 : oh shit. a cowboy.

summary: when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

pairing: cowboy mechanic!yunho x female!reader

genre: non-idol au | strangers to lovers | angst | fluff (no smut yet, but there will be eventually)

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually)

word count: 4.9k

content/warnings: pet names (sweetheart, doll), strangers to lovers, toxic relationship, yeonjun slander 😗 (sry baby), yj and reader get into a pretty big fight

notes: literally thank you so much to @ateez-main-yapper for helping me write this! like this would not exist without her letting me yap in her dms. or letting her help build the story up. or asking her to help edit. this was a two woman job 🙂‍↕️ so thank you baby 💗

ALSO there have been a couple changes and edits from the teaser, so not everything of the first 1k words is the same ☺️

and YES there will be a part 2 (& 3 💀) so PLEASE don't ask for it 😭 she will come when she's ready

Where the fuck was this place? You took another turn down another shaded alley, the sky strangely overcast for two in the afternoon.

The tapping of your fingers on the steering wheel was the only music since the stereo had broken months ago when Yeonjun slammed his fist against it in a fit of rage when you asked him to skip his gig this weekend to attend your sister’s wedding. Now it just blinked periodically when the car hit a bump, giving it miniscule signs of life. And for a man who focused his whole life around his music, he seemed uncharacteristically uninterested in getting it repaired. And maybe it would never get fixed because you could only afford to get the big issues fixed today.

After six wrong turns you finally pulled into the parking lot. Your friend had recommended this garage when you’d told her this car had been having all sorts of issues, and she insisted on here. You had your doubts when she pulled up the Instagram of one of the mechanics to show you the shop and ended up going on about how hot he was for several minutes, but you didn’t really have any other options.

It looked official enough. The brick building was large enough to house two large garage doors that opened up the shop to the dusty parking lot. Peering inside, you could see that there weren't many people inside the garage. There were only two mechanics in your line of sight, the closer of the two venturing back and forth between his toolbox and the taillights of an old Chevy, and you were their only customer as far as you could tell. You shrugged, Maybe they’re understaffed. 

You shrugged before swinging the car door open and grabbing your purse out of the passenger’s seat, brushing off your pants before you made your way in. There wasn’t a front desk or a receptionist to talk to, and you got the feeling that this shop was solely run and staffed by the men inside. 

You spent several moments hovering by one of the garage doors, shuffling your feet and trying to catch the eye of one of the mechanics, but neither of them looked up. Entirely too absorbed in their work to notice your presence. They must not get very busy. 

“Um…hello?” You spoke, trying not to startle either of them. 

They both turned to you, and the man who’d been fixing up the Chevy opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off by his coworker, who jogged over from where he'd been partially hidden from view behind a rack of miscellaneous parts, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and muttering a quick, “I’ve got her, Min.” 

“Min” chuckled and rolled his eyes, returning to his work.

Oh god. 

“Hey Doll, what can I do for ya?” Something about the way he sauntered up to you and smiled so gently immediately filled your stomach with butterflies, but you chose to ignore them for the sake of your own sanity.

Doll. That was a new one, and you felt that anyone else uttering that word toward you would’ve disgusted you to your core. But something about this stranger was strangely comforting. Maybe it was the way he tilted his head as he waited for you to speak. Maybe it was the baseball cap strewn backward on his head. Or maybe it was the strands of his taupe hair that fell in front of his face, strands you imagined yourself brushing up under his hat.

Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your purse, “I’m, uh, having some car issues.”

The laugh he let out, and the curve of his lips that accompanied it, made the tips of your ears burn, “‘Course you are, sweetheart. Anything in particular, though?”

“Oh,” you chuckled softly along with him, “Well, he mentioned that the acceleration’s been kinda weird, and I thought the engine was a little loud when I drove it here today. Sorry, I don’t really know a ton about cars.”

He hummed and tapped his foot a couple of times, “Which one is it?” 

You pointed across the lot. 

“Alright, let me pull it into the garage,” he put his hand out in your direction. 

You stared at it, confused, and when you looked back up at his face he was smiling at you again. Stupid smile. He made your heart flutter more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“Keys, sweetheart. Your keys.”

“Oh,” you scrambled around in your purse before handing them over, embarrassed. 

He took them from you with a 'thanks doll' and a tip of his head, hand hovering over his forehead in a way that made you think he was used to wearing hats much bigger than this simple baseball cap. Before you could even question it further he was jogging across the lot and pulling the car through the big garage doors. 

When he stepped out of the car he looked at you curiously, “This your car?”

You shook your head, “No it’s my boyfriend’s. He’s been…busy…lately, so he hasn’t been able to bring it in. He keeps complaining about it, though, so I just decided to do it for him, I guess.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, nodding slowly. 

“What?” you asked, moderately offended.

He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand, “Nothing. Sorry. You just seemed a little unsure is all.”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I honestly think he just kept complaining so I would get tired of his whining and go on and get it fixed myself,” You chuckled awkwardly. Why the fuck were you telling him this? You started to feel a little embarrassed.

And that feeling only got worse when you saw the mildly horrified look on his face. 

You shook your head and ran a frustrated hand through your hair, “Can you just fix it?”

That pretty fucking smile came back, and your grip on your hair tightened just a little in frustration. “Of course I can. Glad you brought this in when you did, honestly. Seems like your boy toy’s got a bit of an exhaust leak. Could be pretty dangerous, so it's good to get it off the road.”

“Ah, perfect.” You shifted on your feet, “How long will it take, do you think?”

He lifted his hat and ruffled his messy hair before readjusting it on his head. Why did every little movement he made drive you crazy? “Unfortunately, issues like this take a couple days. I doubt I could get her done any sooner than tomorrow.”

You nodded, “Okay. I’ll try and get a ride home then.”

“Alright, Doll. Let me write down your number real quick so I–so we can call ya when she’s ready.”

You wrote down your name and number for him on a pink sticky note that he stuck to the dash. 

“Perfect!” He smiled at you, “We’ll call ya tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, “Awesome! Thank you…Oh. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Yunho. My name is Yunho, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake.

And you couldn’t help the ramming of your heart in your chest when he took your hand into his own.

Yunho watched as you stepped out into the parking lot to call someone, presumably that questionable boyfriend of yours who seemed to be way more trouble than he was worth. He couldn’t help how his heart had dropped when you told him you had a boyfriend in the first place. After a long while of singleness, he was kind of hoping to test the waters when he saw you, and it even seemed like you responded positively to his obvious flirtations.

“So a boyfriend, huh?” Mingi startled him from behind.

Yunho let out a small sigh, trying not to let himself get too worked up about it. You had only met twenty minutes ago for fucks sake. “Yeah, seems like a real piece of work though.”

“Really?” MIngi gave his friend a skeptical side-eye, “Or is that the jealously talking.”

“No, seriously! This is his car. And she said it’s been actin’ up for a while, but he never made the time to bring it in. She only brought it here ‘cause he wouldn’t stop whining ‘bout it.”

“Huh. Sounds kinda child-like to me, but who are we to judge? We haven't even met the dude,” Mingi pat his friend on the back, “Try not to let it get you down, man. I’m sure there’s a cowboy-lovin girl right around the corner waiting for you.”

Yunho nodded, moving along so Mingi would let the whole thing drop. But no matter how many times he repeated in his head that you were taken, he just couldn’t stop looking over in your direction. You just seemed so…tired. He didn’t want to assume, but he got the feeling that this boyfriend of yours might be the main cause of that. And try as he might to reign in his ego and keep it in check, he couldn't help the part of him that knew that, whatever this man was providing for you, he could do so much better. That wasn’t really his place, though. So he let you be. 

“Yeonjun what do you mean you’re busy? You were on the couch when I left an hour ago,” you sighed through the phone.

“Baby, come on. You know I have a gig tonight,” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “And I need to get in the right headspace, so I can’t leave the apartment. It’ll ruin the mood.”

“Is that really more important than picking me up? I’m stuck here.”

“I don’t know. Call an Uber?” Oh, you were gonna kill him.

“What? Why would I pay for an Uber when I have a boyfriend at home with my perfectly functioning car who could drive his ass over here and pick me up? For free!”

You hated how difficult it was to get him to help you out in any way. Why did he have to be so stubborn? “Listen, I really can’t break my flow right now. Maybe wait a couple hours, and I’ll come pick you up, okay? Or maybe have one of your friends pick you up.”

“It’s 3 pm on a Tuesday, Jun. Most people are at–” He hung up on you, “Work..” You trailed off.

God, this is so embarrassing. What the hell were you going to do now? You could call an Uber, but you could barely afford groceries this week. And getting this car fixed was gonna drain the last of your paycheck. 

You bit at your lip anxiously, wracking your head for options. Your friends would be more than happy to pick you up, but most of them wouldn’t get off work for another two hours. So maybe you could just wait until then. Or maybe you could hitchhike? The highway was miles off. And your gut wrenched at the idea of a stranger knowing where you lived…But maybe that could work. Or maybe you cou–

“Everything alright out here, sweetheart?” 

You jumped at his voice, “Oh! Yeah,” you scratched at your head, trying to force a smile, “My boyfriend’s just really busy, so he can’t come get me.”

“Do you…need a ride?” He offered sincerely, “I don’t wanna overstep or anything, but I could help ya if you need it.”

“Oh god no! You don’t have to do that.”

He grinned softly at you, “It’s really nothing at all. I’ll tell you what, I’m leaving here in about an hour. If you can’t find a ride before that, you’ll let me give you drive you home.”

Just say ‘yes.’ Your brain was practically begging you to speak, but you knew this would cause an argument with Yeonjun. A random handsome man bringing you back to the apartment? Oh, it was a recipe for disaster. But what other choice did you have? It wasn’t like he was gonna pay for an Uber to help you home or pick you up himself. No, he left you stranded here with a shit reason, so you were gonna get home the best way possible, and, if it pissed him off, that was his own damn fault.

“Ok,” you smiled up at him, “If you really don’t mind.”

“Trust me, Doll, it’s no problem at all. Let me just finish a couple things up and change, and then we’ll get going, okay?”

You sat on the bench inside the shop while he finished his work. Trying to give yourself a moment to breathe. This was supposed to be your day off. You had finally been able to get a break from both of your jobs, and this is how you were spending it. Trying to fix the car of your boyfriend who couldn't even put his “pre-show ritual” on hold to make sure you got home safe. Part of you was mad at him. Livid that his priorities were so far in the gutter. But you were mostly angry at yourself. Because at the end of the day, when all was said and done, you were the one who had spent six whole years of your life bending over backward for a man who wouldn’t even reach out his arm to catch you. 

You worked two jobs to support the two of you. Your paychecks paid for groceries, rent, insurance, everything. And what did he pay for? Nothing. Because he didn’t have a job. He played two gigs every month at the dingy bar two miles from your apartment, which somehow justified not even bothering to look for employment. 

How did you even get here? A deep sigh rose out of your throat. What the hell were you doing all this for? Your head hurt just thinking about all the times he’d let you down and all the stupid little arguments those let-downs had caused. And yet you were still out here paying his bills and running his errands.

“Alright, sweetheart, ready to go?” You broke out of your spiral when he called for you, and you looked up to see him no longer in the denim and baseball cap he was sporting earlier. 

Lord help me. You silently prayed to whoever might be listening, swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat. He was sporting a light blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons left open so his collarbones were exposed and a light brown cowboy hat that almost exactly matched his hair. A cowboy. Of course. You couldn’t help the racing of your heart as he reached to adjust the brim of his hat. Unsure of whether you wanted to praise or curse whatever fate had sent him your way.

You cleared your throat and stood up from the bench, barely pushing a ‘yes’ out of your mouth. 

He grinned and motioned for you to follow him to the parking lot. The innocent gesture left you lightheaded as you focused on the way his index and middle fingers curled towards his wrist.

As you approached, he gestured to a baby blue pickup truck, “Here she is. My baby.” You chuckled, endeared by the pet name, the image of him gently patting the hood of 'his baby' as he walked around the front of the truck with you reminding you of cowboys in old westerns, leaning their foreheads against their mares as they gently stroked their manes. 

It was sweet. So sweet that you almost missed the fact that he was coming around to the passenger side of the truck with you.

He brushed past you, reaching for the passenger-side door. Swinging it open, he held out a hand to you, and you took it without much thought. 

“Up you go,” he said with a playful lilt to his voice, helping you hold your balance as you climbed into the truck.

“Thank you, Yunho.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Doll. I got ya.” He was going to be the death of you for sure.

“Ten years. You’ve been working there that long?” you looked over at him, amazed, “How old are you?”

He let out a hearty laugh, “Twenty-five. Mingi and I used to come up after school every day and help out. His grandpa used to run the shop but he retired a few years back and left it to him.”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” The thought of a little Yunho sweeping the floors and vacuuming cars made you smile. 

He hummed, “Yeah, it’s been a real nice job. Flexible hours, good pay, get to meet pretty girls from time to time.”

The tips of your ears burned at his blatant flirting. You looked over to see him focused on the road in front of you. The rays of the late afternoon sun shone on his face, letting you see the tan glow of his skin up close. 

Why did you have to meet such a seemingly perfect man today? Why couldn’t this opportunity have fallen into your lap six years ago? 

And fuck you knew you needed to end things. But more than half a decade of your life had been poured into this relationship and you couldn’t find it in your heart to let that go so easily.

Yunho noticed you looking over at him in his periphery, expecting some kind of playful rebuke, but was more than a little worried by your silence. Afraid he'd crossed a line, he was quick to apologize, eyes sincere and tone sober when he chanced a proper glance your way. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’ mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! It’s fine,” You assure him, unconsciously threading your fingers through the ends of your hair, “I just don’t usually get this kind of attention. I know you’re just being playful.”

He nodded, some of his playfulness seeping back into his expression as he cleared his throat, adjusting the brim of his hat as he fixed his attention back onto the road in front of him. “I promise I’m not lyin’ about the ‘pretty’ part, though. I hope you know that.”

You scoff, but you can feel the heat in your cheeks rise, “Thank you…”

Silence enveloped the two of you after that, but he didn't seem to mind. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming along to the music playing out of the car's stereo. In another life, one where the man waiting for you back at your apartment wasn't hell-bent on driving you insane, you wanted to believe that you could be strong enough to look away. To ignore the butterflies filling your stomach. To ignore the way he made your heart flutter. But you just couldn’t find it in you to look away, but he didn’t seem to catch on.

He thinks it's cute that you think he doesn’t notice. He’s very keen on noticing your every little move. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear when he called you pretty and the way you awkwardly fidgeted with your bag when you told him that you didn’t normally receive that kind of attention.

It took every ounce of self-control in his body to keep him from prying. But he couldn’t help the way he started to hate this man that he’d never met even more. What he wouldn’t give to have a partner who was willing to go get his car fixed without asking. Someone who was so dedicated to the relationship that they were willing to sacrifice the little free time they had just to help out.

As he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, he glanced over at you and met your eyes for a second. You quickly whipped your head away, embarrassed that you’d been caught red-handed. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, smiled, “Here we are.”

“Mhm,” you nodded awkwardly, busying yourself with checking that you had all your things set to go. “Thank you for the ride. It means a lot.”

“Not a problem at all, Doll. Need me to walk you up?” he asked, leaning forward to try and meet your eyes.

You shook your head, “No, I’ll be alright.” You gave him a smile, “So you’ll call me tomorrow?”

He nodded, the tip of his hat dropping slightly, “Yep, I should be done with ‘er around noon.”

“Perfect! Again, thank you so mu–”

You were cut off by the sound of someone pounding on the passenger side window. Both of you turn at the sudden commotion. 

Yunho watched as you hurriedly swung the door open and slid out of the car. And he heard a muffled, “Jun, what the hell!?” after you’d slammed the door of his truck.

Ah, the boyfriend.

“Are you insane? What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled.

Yeonjun glared at you through the wild strands of his crimson hair, “My problem!? Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh, that’s your issue? That I had to have the mechanic drive me home?” You seethed, jabbing a finger into his chest, “This could’ve easily been avoided if you had picked your sorry ass off the couch to drive me home yourself. Like any decent partner would.”

Your not-so-subtle jab seemed to go over his head, his mind too focused on the image of you smiling and blushing in response to a man that wasn’t him. “You really couldn’t have found a woman to drive you home? It just had to be this dick.”

“No, Yeonjun, I couldn’t find a woman to drive me home. You know why? Because it’s a Tuesday afternoon and all of my friends have jobs. Unlike you who can’t even take the time to take a break from whatever the fuck you do all day to give me a ride.”

He gawked at you, clearly offended, “I have a job.”

“Oh my god. This again?” You ran a frustrated hand over your face, “No. You don’t. Practicing with your bandmates twice a week and playing a single gig a month is not a job. You make $100 a month.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a nine-to-five? I like my schedule the way it is.”

You could feel angry tears forming at the back of your eyes, stinging as you held them back, “You think I DO!? Yeonjun, I work sixty hours a week trying to keep us afloat. I pay for our food, our rent, our insurance, your fucking car! And I can’t even get you to pick up the damn apartment when I’m gone.” The tears started falling before you even realized it, shocking both of you. It had been a long time since he’d last seen you cry. Because you always chose either anger or an eerily calm response to his childishness. Knowing deep down that he wouldn’t be able to comfort you if you slipped into vulnerability. “I’m fucking tired Jun. This was my first day off in three months, and I spent it trying to get your car fixed. And I can’t even get a ‘thank you’ out of you. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. You aren’t nineteen anymore, and I think it’s time you grow the fuck up.”

He didn’t say anything. The anger in his face replaced by a mix of shock and awkward discomfort, one of a man who was embarrassed to even be in this situation.

You stayed like that for a beat, holding your breath, praying for the moment when he realized everything he’d done wrong. Where he woke up from the immature daze he’d been trapped in since you were teenagers. But you supposed that was all wishful thinking, the tension broken not by either of you, but by a honk from behind him. His bandmate was here to pick him up. 

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. “We’ll talk about this later,” he mumbled before jogging up to his friend’s car and sliding into the passenger seat. You watched him give his friend one of their ridiculous handshakes, the sound of blaring music and feminine laughter spilling out into the parking lot before the car door slammed shut. The scene was so ironic in the face of everything he'd just yelled at you for that you really couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up through your tears, bitter as acid on your tongue.

Yunho sat in his truck as he watched your asshole of a boyfriend leave the parking lot. He stayed like that for a while, watching you wipe at your tears and try to compose yourself. When you’d calmed down enough for his conscience to let him leave, he looked down at the passenger seat and noticed you had left your purse behind.

Grabbing the bag, he exited the truck and approached you. Trying his best not to startle you, he cleared his throat. 

Surprised by the sound, you turned around to find Yunho standing there awkwardly, holding out the purse you now realized was missing from your shoulders, “You left your bag.”

“Oh…thank you.” You mumbled, closing the distance and grabbing it from him with a bit more force than you meant to. The mechanic didn’t so much as flinch.

How could he when his heart hurt for you? This woman he could barely even claim to know. He hated the fact that you felt the need to respond defensively, the pain in your eyes, and how you could barely look at him. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of this. It wasn’t your fault. But Yunho knew without you having to say anything that you were incredibly embarrassed. 

“Listen–”

“Oh god. Please don’t”

His shoulders dropped, “I just wanted to–”

You lifted a hand to stop him, “Yunho, please. You’ve been so kind to me, and I really appreciate your help today. But please for the love of god don’t make me dump my relationship problems on you.”

“Hey now,” he said, holding both his hands up in a calming motion as he spoke in a voice so deep and steady in contrast to your own that it caught you by surprise, “I don’t mean to push or pry, Doll, you just look like you could use someone to talk to is all.”

“I just don’t want you to think down on me,” you sighed.

He looked at you sincerely, slipping the hat from his head and placing it on the hood of the truck, “Now, have I given you the impression that that’s somethin’ I would ever do?”

The appreciative smile you gave him almost made him melt. You leaned back against the side of his truck, tilting your head back until it hit the window with a soft thud, “I’m just so tired.”

Yunho slid next to you, awkwardly scuffing his boot into the pavement, “Would it be too rude to say I could tell?”

You chuckled, “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve been trying for years to get him to just put in an ounce of effort, but he won’t budge. But we’ve been together so long I don’t know if I have it in me to end things.”

“You know it’s not your job to teach him how to be an adult, right? He’s a grown-ass man. You shouldn’t have to beg him to help you out.” 

The somber look in your eyes when you looked up at him made Yunho want to pull you in and hug you to his chest, but he respected your boundaries. 

“I know. I just…” you trailed off, no longer finding it in yourself to argue for your relationship.

Yunho took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he wanted to get off his chest, “Look, Doll, I don’ wanna overstep or anything, but I’m gonna be blunt with you.” He paused, giving you room to tell him to stuff it and save it for someone else if you wanted to. But you were looking up at him expectantly, teary eyes nearly pushing his little speech clean out of his skull. He had to clear his throat a little before continuing. “The way that man treats you is just disgusting. For everything you do for him? The least he could do is make sure that your apartment is spotless and you never have to cook again. And I’m not saying it’s me who should give it to you, but you deserve worlds better than that.”

“Yeah…” was all you could get out before you felt a tear fall down your cheek, and you tried to wipe it away before Yunho saw. But of course he noticed.

Tentatively, he placed a hand on your shoulder in comfort, running his thumb along the fabric of your t-shirt. You surprised him, though, when you turned into him and started sobbing into his chest. Your fingers desperately gripping his button down.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back. Holding you with so much warmth and sincerity that you felt safer than you had in years. In the arms of a stranger, no less.

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[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Minor Crush

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You’re one of the best mechanics in town, and Dean Winchester makes it a priority to bring his car whenever she needs work done.

Square Filled: “As always sir, a great pleasure watching you work.” (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The worst part about your job is misogynistic men who hate the fact that a woman can do a “man’s” job. Still, you have to talk to them because that’s your job. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes in annoyance at the man you’re talking to over the phone.

“Sir, I’d be more than happy to help you get scheduled for the 21st, but the only available mechanic is me.”

“No offense sweetheart, but I am not letting a woman touch my Viper.”

You bite back what you want to say and try to keep it professional. “Sir, if you want a different mechanic, you’ll have to pick a different day.”

“Keep up, dollface. I can’t do it any other day. I need it done in the 21st. Let me speak to a manager.”

“I am one. If you need it done on the 21st, I will be working on it. If you don’t like that, take your car somewhere else. It’s that simple, but good luck trying to find someone to fix your Viper. Everyone you did ask recommended me for the job, but I am a woman. I have no idea what I’m doing. I just work at the best mechanic shop in town.”

The man curses under his breath. “Fine, book me for the 21st. I’ll see you at ten.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

You hang up and lose the preppy attitude. You groan and put your head in your hands, and that’s when your boss walks out of the office.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Have I told you how much I love men?” you ask with an eye roll.

“Business is slow. Do you want to take the rest of the day off?”

“Nah, I have cars to fix. Reggie can man the phones.”

You leave your desk and head into the shop where three of your coworkers are working on cars. You’re the only woman in the shop so that customer isn’t the first one you’ve had those conversations with. You’re also one of the best mechanics in the shop. Your dad and brother taught you everything you needed to know growing up. You lived on a farm and fixed everything from tractors to cars, your own or the neighbor’s.

You love working with your hands and getting them dirty. You take great pleasure in taking something that’s broken and fixing it. The shop closes at six but you like to stay after and grab some overtime hours. That, and you get lost in time whenever you’re underneath a car. Like now, you don’t realize that everyone else has already left for the day until you look around the empty shop.

You slide out from underneath the car and walk toward the open hood to get a peek at the engine. You reach in and grab the loose piece you were trying to undo from beneath it.

“As always, ma’am, a great pleasure watching you work.”

You look up and see none other than Dean Winchester standing in your shop.

“Dean!” you smile widely. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. You know the job takes me everywhere.”

“I don’t since you won’t tell me what you do,” you chuckle and wipe your hands with a greasy rag. “I’d shake your hand but I have grease all over my hands.”

“And some on your face.”

You blush and turn away from him to blindly feel for the grease spot. You and Dean have a complicated relationship. He knows how to fix cars but there’s only so much he can do before needing help. Your specialty is working on old cars because they aren’t complicated. Sure, it’s hard to get parts for them but you know someone who supplies them to you. Dean found you and brought in his 1967 Chevy Impala that was totaled. He would have worked on it himself but he claimed his job needed him and couldn’t fix it.

That was the start of your relationship.

Even if it was something he could fix, he’d bring his car to you. At first, you asked a million and one questions about what he did, but then you realized after a while that he wasn’t going to tell you. He didn’t want to bring you into his fucked up life and get you killed, so he kept that part of him from you.

He’s developed a bit of a crush on you because of it, but it never goes further than flirting.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“My car got into a bit of an accident. I need you to fix her up.”

“When are you going to let that car go and get something newer?”

“Over my dead fucking body. Come on, sweetheart. You know me better than that.”

“Alright, let’s see the damage.”

You follow Dean around back and you gasp when you see the state of his car. It looks like someone ran over it with a tank. You’ve seen her in bad shape before, but nothing like this.

“What happened to her?”

“Oh, you know, minor accident.”

“Minor?! Were you hurt?”

“Not really. I wasn’t in the car.”

“Dean, this is going to take months to fix and cost you thousands of dollars.”

“I have the time and money for it. You’re the best, and I’d hate to bring my car to someone else for probably more.”

“Dean…”

“Plus, that means I’ll have to keep coming back to check on the progress.”

You scoff playfully and cross your arms. “This is going to be double my fee.”

“Done.”

“I know I said I’d stop asking, but what do you do to get her like this?”

Dean walks closer to you and touches the ends of your hair. He twirls it playfully and smiles down at you. “Nothing that will interest you.”

“Are you at least safe?”

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

“Kind of. You make me money when you bring her in like this,” you joke.

Dean leans down and kisses your cheek softly. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” you smile. “I can’t have you dying on me.”

“Oh, baby, I will always make it back to you.”

The same blush creeps up your neck. “Go. Let me assess the damage. When you come back tomorrow, make sure you bring food. Fixing cars makes me hungry.”

“You got it, sweetheart,” he grins, his eyes sparkling.

Dean leaves, and you find yourself touching the spot he kissed on your cheek. Maybe you have a crush on him, too.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[haikyu-mp4]

heyy!!! Congratulations on the milestone! You deserve this and so much more! Each and every one of your fics is just so cute and sweet😁😁

Applying with Kageyama, I'm organised and driven.

hii! thank you so much, that warms my heart!! and thank you for the great application, you're hired<3

Vanilla latte

Kageyama is a customer and buys something just to talk to you, for the now hiring! event

word count; 742 – gn!reader

Kageyama would never understand how Hinata got so into coffee when he already seemed to have more energy than anyone else just by being himself, but here they were, hitting up a new coffee shop because his shorter friend wanted to bring a coffee to training with the Olympic team.

“Just because Iwa says it’s bad doesn’t mean it kills you,” Hinata insisted like he was at Takeda’s level of making everything sound like great wisdom.

“Dumbass!” he responded, as usual. “You know I don’t like coffee.” And just like that, the conversation ended and they got in line, Tobio standing halfway behind, halfway beside Hinata since he wouldn’t be getting anything. They had this conversation almost every morning this week, and Kageyama was sick of it. Why would he keep trying coffee for energy when he knew the bad effects of it and didn’t even like the taste?

While they waited in line, he and Hinata kept bickering under their breaths, or Hinata would look at the menu boards while Kageyama looked at the display of cakes and bakery. That did look good, he should have some for his next cheat day. Wasn’t Tsukishima’s birthday coming up? Bet he’d have some strawberry shortcake.

And no matter how many thoughts he distracted himself with, they were all whisked away when Hinata got to the register and Tobio heard the softest voice asking what he wanted. So he looked up to discover possibly the prettiest person he had ever seen.

“Can you recommend a coffee without anything chocolate-y?” Hinata asked cheerily, making you hum in thought for a moment before nodding.

“Personally, I love a classic vanilla latte,” you suggested, and while Hinata agreed to get that, Kageyama also nodded as if you were talking to him. “And you?” you asked, turning your attention to him, who stood stiff as a tree beside Hinata.

Kageyama had never wanted a coffee more in his life. It's as if his brain totally forgot that you can order drinks without coffee in a café.

“He doesn’t want-”

“I’d like to have the same,” Kageyama said, effectively cutting Hinata off but also earning him a confused glare. “As him.”

“I thought you didn’t-”

“I’ll pay for both,” Kageyama added to hopefully bribe him into silence, giving his friend a strict side-eye. Please follow my lead, dumbass.

“Sounds good!” you said, not thinking too much about their dynamic. You were on the opening shift and talking to them helped keep you awake. “What’s your name?”

“Hinata and Kageyama…” he said, pointing to his friend and then himself. “What’s yours?” You looked up in surprise, accidentally smudging the little heart you drew behind his name. And if your cheeks flushed a light pink from the intensity of his stare, who could blame you?

You pointed to the little sign on your shirt. “Y/n,” you still said, about to turn away and start his order.

“Also uhh…” Kageyama put a hand up to stop you, happy when you looked up at him again expectantly but felt his cheeks copy your flush as he had no idea what he was trying to say. He looked around the café, looking for inspiration, and then back at you.

“Is there something else I could get you?” And now that he was stalling for time, you took a moment to relax your shoulders and take him in. He was a very handsome man, tall, dark-haired, very your type. You would be lying if you said his awkward front wasn’t charming as well.

Maybe he felt your eyes on him because he took to rubbing the back of his neck. “Something to eat?”

“Like bakery or a sandwich?” you suggested, not even noticing that Hinata had moved on and your coworker came over to man the other register.

“Bakery. What do you like?”

“Cinnamon rolls, they’re the best here, I swear,” you said, and your conviction made him finally crack a small smile.

“Two of those.”

“We should come back here tomorrow,” Kageyama said, making Hinata chuckle at the finality of it because even though Kageyama was taller than him, he could clearly see the flush that was still burning his ears. Wait until everyone hears about this!

“Are you going to eat those?” he asked, pointing at the paper bag in his hand. Kageyama groaned.

Shit, I was going to leave one of the cinnamon rolls as a gift. Better luck next time.

masterlist

[cottagecore-raccoon]

Since the Christmas season is upon us, I thought I'd recommend some of my favorite Good Omens fics that put me in the holiday spirit:

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve by theshoparoundthecorner (40k)

“Bit of an odd tradition, if you ask me,” he said, if not to get his mind off the longing that had settled in his chest. Aziraphale shrugged. “I think it’s rather sweet. A kiss for good luck. Seems a nice way to start the year. Very human.” Crowley nodded. “Can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, that lot. Always finding excuses. First it’s mistletoe at Christmas, then it’s luck for the New Year…” “Well there’s no need to be so grouchy about it,” Aziraphale said. “I think it’s lovely.” Crowley’s heart ached a little more as he watched Aziraphale smile up at the glowing numbers on the building above them. Yeah, he thought, lovely. Five times Crowley thought about kissing Aziraphale on New Year's Eve, and one time he did.

Snow Angel by Vagabond (14k)

Human!AU. Aziraphale needs a date to his brother's Christmas party to avoid getting set up with someone. Anathema suggests Crowley, the office bad boy. They go, get snowed in, and have a heart-to-heart that ends in a Happy Christmas. From a prompt: Human!AU: Aziraphale needs a date for family Christmas. He invites the office rebel/bad boy, Crowley.

all i need, darling, is a life in your shape by deadgreeks (14k)

After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives. --- Why? Aziraphale wanted to ask him, why millennia of the way things were, and now this? But while Crowley seemed to have little issue upending every unspoken rule they’d ever written for themselves, Aziraphale was not so flexible, and they had spent thousands of years never quite addressing whatever it was this had stemmed from. Words, Aziraphale had always felt, were for bickering about where to eat for lunch, or hashing out ontological debates, or other trivial nonsense; there was no need to trifle with the imprecision of language, with phrasing and the possibility of being misconstrued, when it came to important matters if the other person simply understood, without needing it said. Six thousand years ago, when Aziraphale had met Crowley on the wall of Eden, watching the first two humans set out to begin the rest of history, something deep within him, more central even than his Grace, had thought, oh, it’s you, and that had been enough for him--for both of them, he assumed--for three millennia. However much he wanted to ask, he didn’t know how. The words simply weren’t there.

Shelter from the Storm by AppleSeeds (13k)

They're coworkers in town for a conference, but a storm has knocked the power out in the hotel where they were supposed to be staying, so Crowley and Aziraphale brave the storm and find their way to a charming little B&B, which has one room available, and it's the honeymoon suite, which only has one bed, and now Aziraphale is injured and needs to be looked after, and oh no now the power's out here too but at least they have the soft flickering glow of the candlelight but OH NO the heating's gone off too and it's getting VERY cold and Newt's the one trying to fix it... whatever will Aziraphale and Crowley do? AKA, what happens when I try to squeeze as many tropes as I possibly can into one story.

The Anon Before Christmas by foolishlovers (67k)

When Crowley’s friend, blogging buddy and business partner Anathema announces her annual Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr, she is very adamant Crowley should join this year. The old-fashioned (but admittedly compassionate) man he gets assigned to send anonymous messages to every day until Christmas sounds awfully similar to the fussy bookseller that his friends adore, yet Crowley tries to avoid at all costs. But surely his friends would have mentioned if Aziraphale had taken an interest in the Bad Omens fandom as well… right? Or: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Santa Tumblr AU.

I could definitely use some more recs, so reblog with your favorite holiday fics! Self recs more than welcome :)

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Good Company | Bucky Barnes

✦ pairing — Bucky Barnes x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.8k

✦ request — For the Christmas fics thing can I ask for something with Bucky Barnes? The reader is completely tired of her grandmother telling her that she should lose weight to get a boyfriend/fiancé right in front of the whole family at every Christmas dinner. The reader is talking about it with two of her coworkers/friends until Bucky interrupts her and tells her he can go with her as her boyfriend

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of fatphobia, mentions of food and beverages (alcohol included), fake dating, fluff, kissing.

✦ author's note — changed this one a little bit just so I could leave some stuff up for interpretation or else I would have gone overboard.

════════════════════════

You weren't feeling as festive as everybody in the building. Your work environment was good, you got along with your coworkers just fine for the most part, and the pay wasn't bad at all.

Your family, though... there was room for improvement there. A big room. Maybe an open plan apartment's worth of improvement.

It had come to the point that you weren't sure you wanted to see them for the holidays. Your grandmother always had something to say about you — your career, your friends, your weight, your relationship status.

She wanted you to be just like her and your aunts, to 'make sacrifices for a greater life' as she so eloquently put it. You were supposed to hate yourself, to change everything about you to please her.

Her excuse always boiled down to your loneliness in the romantic department. You couldn't tell her about hook-ups and fizzled-out flings so you would often nod along and take her absurd comments.

You wouldn't handle them that well this year. It was a tough one for everybody, but she would only use it as an excuse to urge you to find a partner before life got worse.

Reaching your car in the parking area, you made sure it was intact before unlocking it. You were checking the backseat when someone called your name.

You half-expected to be told you were needed for an emergency, but as you searched for whoever had called for your attention, you found Bucky.

"Oh, hi, Bucky."

He gave you a small smile, greeting you back. "Going home?"

"Yeah. I hope traffic isn't too bad."

"You free for dinner or coffee?"

"Right now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sure. "

He led you to a small bistro, one of those hole-in-the-wall establishments he always seemed to find. Bucky gave you recommendations from time to time, and that was the extent of your dynamic outside of work.

You ordered drinks first and talked about silly things while you decided what to order for dinner. Once the order was placed and you had a few sips in you, Bucky turned more serious.

First, he cleared his throat. Seemingly not comfortable enough yet, he sighed. "I heard your conversation with Nat and Sharon..."

You hadn't even seen him at lunchtime and somehow he had managed to hear your rant about family expectations. Which meant he heard you at the edge of crying over your overly honest grandma.

You looked down at your half-empty glass. "It's... a lot, yeah."

"I'm available for the holidays." He pulled a napkin and started rolling it up into a log. "I can go with you, say I'm your boyfriend. Or fiance if you want, I know a jeweler who could lend us a ring."

"I couldn't ask that from you. It's supposed to be a jolly time."

"I'm offering."

"A tempting offer," you admitted. You didn't want to sound desperate, although he certainly knew you were. "What would be in it for you? How would I repay you?"

"Not being alone on Christmas is enough already. "

He started to fold the napkin into a tiny square, focused on making it look perfect.

"Well, I'm sure my family will be happy to keep you company. So will I."

He looked up at you, then nodded. "Tell me about them?"

So you spent dinner telling him about your parents and grandparents for the most part, small details of your siblings and nephews. You didn't want to overwhelm him too much.

You also spent days worrying it would end in catastrophe. What would your family think of you if things were to fall apart?

Bucky didn't back down when you warned him about the questions he would have to endure, or when you reminded him he would have to be affectionate to you.

He helped you wrap gifts and asked your opinion on the clothes he planned to wear. He was also curious if your family knew he was coming.

They did. You told your mom a day after your dinner with Bucky, on your daily morning phone call. She was thrilled, albeit mad that you hid your relationship status for so long.

You just hoped your grandmother would be as thrilled – maybe less offended that you kept a man hidden from her scrutiny.

He laughed when you told him she probably would try to get him for herself and grabbed your hand to tug you closer. "Can't do. I'm already taken, didn't you know?"

"Oh, really? Are they a better prospect than my grandma and her handmade blankets?"

"Hey, you never said something about handmade blankets. I might have to reconsider."

You hit him on the shoulder without even realizing you were doing it.

He didn't complain. Instead, he pulled you into him and said, "Your grandma will have to settle for having me as a grandson."

You were sure she would be glad to.

Bucky was easy to like. You weren't worried that anybody would have anything negative to say about him, not even your overprotective brother.

Looking up at him, you felt your face warm up as you realized he had been staring already. "Do you want me to drive tomorrow?"

"No, no. You just gotta guide me and look pretty."

You tried hard not to think about it, about his flirting and compliments. It came easy to him, it wasn't a big deal.

Well, it shouldn't have been.

════════════════════════

You sat on the passenger seat, letting a Christmas playlist do the heavy lifting as you did your best not to bombard Bucky with suggestions as to what to say.

He wasn't stupid, and you had found he listened to what everybody said and internalized the useful parts. He didn't need you to treat him like a distracted child.

You just needed everything to be perfect and to survive Christmas dinner without crying for once in your adult life.

As if knowing you were torn between your anxiety and the catchy song playing, Bucky reached over and rested his hand on your knee.

"I'll be the best boyfriend, doll, don't worry."

You didn't doubt it. "I've never lied to them like this."

There was a first for everything. You were just glad you weren't doing it on your own.

Bucky helped you carry the gifts while you carried the cake you got from a bakery Sharon recommended.

Your mom opened the door in all her glory, with her hair done and a glittery black sweater underneath her red apron. Her eyes lit up when she saw you and Bucky, potentially more because he was real than because she missed you, and ushered you both inside.

Most family members were there already for your grand entrance, expectant, a tad impatient to see the man they would get to judge together.

Your brother and dad tore their eyes away from the football highlights on the TV at the same time, examining Bucky from head to toe.

Bucky introduced himself as such, just Bucky, but your brother insisted on calling him James which earned him a pointed look from your mom.

"I've heard so much about you," your mom said cheerfully. An attempt to dissipate whichever tension your brother could have arisen.

Bucky laughed charmingly, sharing a complicit look with you. People around you surely saw it as a gesture between lovers. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, ma'am."

He won her over with that, much like he did with your aunts and sister. Your brother would sneak weary glances from time to time and even looked offended when your dad laughed at something Bucky said.

But you agreed with your dad. Bucky was just so easily likable, serious on the exterior yet the funniest person you had met —a charming man who happened to be easy on the eyes.

Your grandmother, though, she almost fell in love with him. She grabbed your hand, giving it a strong squeeze. "See? I told you you'd be happier once you found a man."

You tried to smile at her.

"I'm the happiest," Bucky interjected. "Your granddaughter changed my life."

Your grandmother cooed, relishing just how right she had been. You were sure she was thinking you got lucky that you didn't even have to lose weight to find him.

If she thought so, she didn't say it. In fact, there wasn't a single comment regarding your weight the entire night. The fact that Bucky had his arm around your waist must have helped.

You saw another side of your grandmother, the fun one.

All you needed to be in harmony with your family had been to show up on somebody's arm.

It helped that Bucky was open to answering questions and patient with the kids who insisted he had to play with them because he was new.

Your brother was the only cautious one. He wasn't impolite, but his questions were as piercing as his eyes and his words too cold to come from your favorite person in the world.

He had never been anything but warm, much to some of the other men's disappointment. Raised mostly by your mom, you both were taught to be welcoming, to choose kindness even when it was the toughest thing to do.

But your kind brother didn't appear when it came to Bucky. You feared he knew you so well that your ruse had been discovered.

You followed your brother to the patio where you found him checking his phone. His fiancé was on a family trip, he probably missed them.

"You could be a little nicer," you said casually.

Your brother let out a huff, putting his phone away. "He looks like the type."

"The type?"

"Like the ones I had to beat up for breaking your heart in high school."

You tried not to think about those people and their cruel jokes. Their bets, their mocking tones. You had enough with the things your grandmother still said, the never-heard-before heartlessness she would throw your way the moment you showed up on your own again.

"This isn't high school."

"I'm looking out for you."

"Why don't you just say you think he's out of my league?"

"Because that's not it." He sounded offended, ever the protector. To make matters worse, he wisely said, "You didn't have to get a boyfriend if you weren't ready."

You frowned, trying to read his face in an attempt to find what he was getting at. Bucky wasn't the first person you had introduced your family to as a partner.

"If anything," he said, standing tall and lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "you're out of his league — who dates a coworker?"

"Me."

Your brother shook his head in disapproval, as he often did when you were younger. His semblance softened immediately. "You know what I mean."

"I don't."

He twisted his mouth, then tilted his head as he pointed —to him— the obvious, "He's more into you than you're into him."

"I wish you wouldn't say it like it's a bad thing."

"It is when you're so stiff around him."

Maybe you let your nerves get the best out of you. "I don't want to give Mom and Dad the wrong impression. Or grandma... you know how they are."

"Just... be careful. And call me if you need me; for anything."

You kissed his cheek in assurance and went back inside. Only then, you realized just how cold it was outside — you were only wearing a sweater.

You sat close to Bucky, resting your head on his bicep as your mom continued telling him about her upcoming retirement.

He wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer. His comforting warmth seeped into you, pressed to his chest. He rubbed his hand along your arm, feeling just how cold you were.

You hoped he wouldn't want to move any time soon.

If he wanted to, he concealed it well. Bucky was hesitant to part from you when dinner was served, and even more after when your niece asked you to do her hair.

Eventually, you had to leave. It wasn't ludicrously late, but the drive was an hour long and you didn't have it in you to send Bucky home on his own while you stayed there for the night — inviting him to stay was out of the question.

He promised to visit soon, joking that he would bring you with him as a plus one. Your grandmother laughed so loudly that it scared you. It made you sad. You got your family's hopes up, and for what? A peaceful dinner that would only serve as a bitter reminder?

It was over so quickly and the aftermath would haunt you until you found someone else to lie. Or to actually date.

There was a chance you ruined it for yourself. Who would your grandmother approve of after having met Bucky?

You didn't know if you would approve of anybody else after that either. It didn’t snow this year. As though even the weather thought you had been wrong for lying to your family on Christmas from all days.

Bucky nudged you. "You good?"

"Yeah," you answered quickly

"You sure?"

"It was a long day."

"You didn't have a good time?"

"I woke up at five in the morning," you clarified. Not a lie, but you were used to that kind of schedule. "I'm surprised you still have so much energy."

"Having good company helped."

You hated that he said that.

It would have been so nice to agree, to enjoy how happy your grandmother had been, and your mom's laugh, and your sweet brother's worry...

Not hearing vitriolic comments about your body and lifestyle was lovely. You would still hear it soon, but at least your Christmas hadn't been ruined by your family but by yourself.

Sadness washed over you as your apartment came into view. You didn't know exactly why, he was still your friend, you would see him at work and have a secret just for the two of you which meant you were closer friends now.

You shouldn't have been glad to have him as a friend, to have a person willing to lie to multiple people just so you would have a good Christmas.

"Thank you. For everything." You didn't know how else to say goodbye. You would see him in a couple of days at work.

Ever the polite one, he smiled and said, "It was my pleasure."

You climbed out of the car and told him to drive safely. Bucky only nodded. Waving at him in goodbye, you smiled softly. Then, you stepped into the first front step.

"Hey,” he called for you from the car.

You turned around. “Yeah?"

He rolled the window up and killed the engine. Swiftly, Bucky got out of the car and approached you. "I liked it."

"You can come next year if you want." And if he wasn't busy. Or in a relationship.

"I didn't— I mean, yes, I would like that, but I liked the whole thing.”

Your heartbeat quickened. You lifted your eyebrows, not able to ask what he meant by that.

But you didn’t need to, Bucky was willing to openly say it, "You know, the handholding. And having you all over me especially.”

You froze on the spot, watching him get even closer. You were still on the first step, meeting his gaze by mistake.

He huffed to himself and added, "I always thought you were pretty, but having you this close... God, how did I ever go about my life without this? How can I go back to that?"

"Buck..."

"Look—"

"You wanna come in? Have some hot cocoa or a glass of wine?"

He let out a relieved laugh. “Yeah. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

It was and while you thought you looked pretty in your cozy sweater and your light coat, you really should have layered up. Bucky hung his jacket in the coat closet as though he had done so hundreds of times.

“Wine or hot cocoa?” you asked once he was comfortable in the living room.

“Wine.”

You pulled a pair of glasses out of the cupboard and set them on the counter.

Bucky stopped you from reaching for the bottle. “Wait.”

You turned around to face him. “Changed your mind?”

At the same time, he asked, “Can I kiss you first?”

You pressed your lips to his as an answer. He quickly kissed you back, cupping your cheek in one hand while the other one found the space between your hip and waist.

He caressed your cheek, making you sigh into the kiss which he took as an opportunity to deepen it. You grabbed his face, accepting the pace he chose to kiss you with.

The hold on your body became stronger as Bucky tried to pull you closer for which he lost his step, making you laugh and pull away in worry that he would hit his hip against the kitchen table.

He shook his head, assuring you he was fine.

Your hands ended up on his shoulders while he grabbed you by the waist with both hands.

"Merry Christmas," he said against your lips before kissing you again.

[jakef3ver]

Nishimura Riki | NDA

︎ ☁︎︎ Idol!riki x fan!reader | fem!reader

↯ fluff, crack, maybe suggestive a little more into the fic, use of social media (instagram, twt), reader is just a regular girl going to school and stuff

⚠︎︎ will contain mentions of alcohol consume later

-what the actual fuck just happened?-

You sit up in your bed, after hearing your phone’s alarm. It was 8 AM and you got a total of 3 hours of sleep after staying up WAYYYY too long.

“fuck no” you whisper to yourself, agitated at the fact you only got to sleep 3 hours.

But honestly, it was your fault to stay up this late.

Accepting your fate, you get out of bed and look for your work clothes before making your way to the bathroom to get ready for work.

Your motivation to actually do all of this? Easy. The Enhypen concert in two days, you and Alija got VIP and front-row seats for.

After arriving at the cafe, you quickly greet your coworkers and put on an apron, before really starting your shift.

Taking orders and preparing coffee from customers.

Everything was as usual until you saw something.

Or rather someone, entering the cafe.

You had to make a double-take before actually realizing who this is.

“no fucking way, oh my god” you whisper to yourself while quickly turning your body around. “this can’t be real, what the fuck” you hiss, before taking a deep breath to calm yourself down.

You turn yourself to the front again, to greet the newly arrived customers with a warm smile.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” You say the sentence you say to EVERY customer you greet.

Your hand slightly trembling as you wait for them to tell you their order.

“What do you recommend?” Jake smiles and asks, before looking up to the menu and then to his left side to Riki standing beside him.

“I- I like the frozen flavored coffee” You say, your voice a little nervous. “with mocha sirup” You add, after taking another deep breath.

Jake nods. “I’ll take that one then”

Your hand is still shaking as you write down the order on the display in front of you.

“Large or medium?” You ask.

“Large please” he says with his typical Australian accent.

As you note the order, Jake says something like ‘your turn’ or ‘now you’ to Riki in Korean. You couldn’t really understand what exactly he said, but you can understand enough to make sense of it.

As you look up again, Riki looks at you with a small smile.

“I want the same one” He starts “Just in medium please” he adds in the same cute Korean accent, you always hear when he says something in English.

You nod “Noted”

After receiving both their orders, you tell them the price and Jake pays for both drinks.

You quickly turn yourself around, to directly prepare their Coffees.

Your eyes are blown wide open, your brain not realizing what just happened.

Skillfully, you prepare the coffee without spilling anything, even with your hands still shaking.

“Here, two frozen flavored coffees with mocha” you state while handing Jake and Riki their drinks over the counter.

Your heart stops for a second as you feel Riki's fingers slightly brush over yours, leaving goosebumps all over your body.

“Enjoy, have a good day” You quickly say and throw a kinda awkward smile in their direction, especially to Riki.

Then you practically RUN to the back of the cafe where the room for brakes is, while telling your coworker you'll be back soon.

Barely reaching the destined room, you dial Alijas number.

And she directly picks up.

“FUCK ALIJA”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK JUST HAPPENED”

“Y/n are you okay, why are you screaming at me”

“NO”

“WHAT HAPPENED?”

“FUCKING RIKI AND JAKE WHERE HERE”

“I GAVE THEM THEIR DRINKS”

“AND FUCKING RIKIS HAND TOUCHED MINE ALIJA”

“WHAT IS GOING ON”

“WHAT NO FUCKING WAY Y/N”

“R U FOR REAL”

“YES”

“AND RIKI DEADASS SMILED AT ME”

“Oh my fucking god y/n”

“That's just crazy”

“Fuck oh my god” you let out a breath you didn't know you where holding.

“I gotta go again” you sigh, still full of adrenaline from the previous encounter.

“Dinner later? At mine?” Alija asks nearly out of breath as you.

“Shit yes please” you answer.

“See you later then” she says excitedly and hangs up.

After putting your phone away again, you take a deep breath and make your way to the front again, to finish your shift.

masterlist | previous | next

tags: @d-dilemma @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[hughes86-43]

Sweet Treat | J. Hughes

warnings - none, maybe some grammar errors! just fluff!

summary - on the opening day of your coffee shop, everything is going great, but it only gets better when you meet a certain hockey player. part two

Your dream has always been to open your very own coffee shop with a bakery. After years of hard work with getting your business degree, to determining what type of set up you wanted to have, and earning enough money to actually do it, you finally did it! Your dream became a reality as you walk into the shop on opening day, turning on all the lights and getting everything set up before your two new employees showed up to help with what would possibly a busy day, if everything goes right.

You planned for this opening day tremendously with making sure everything was in stock, training the new employees, setting up the register, picking the perfect table and chairs, and now at 9 am on the clock, you turn the sign on the front door to open.

Within a total of three hours of being open, a large amount customers have came in and ordered their coffees and even a sweet treat. They congratulated you on the opening of your shop and told you that they would certainly tell others about the shop, you couldn’t be happier.

Around the four hour mark, business had slowed down a bit to a constant pace, when a young guy walks in. You look up from the register, ready to greet the guy, when all of a sudden you’re stopped in your tracks just by how gorgeous the guy looks. All words have left your mind as soon as you saw him.

As you come back from your day dream, you see that he has reached the counter and now has a confused look on his face as you have not said a word to him yet. With a poke from one of your coworkers, you remember that you need to greet him, you say with blush on your cheeks, “I am so sorry! I must’ve been focused too much on how good sales have been today to have noticed you come up, so sorry!” As you hope you played that off well. “I’ll start over, hello!”

If he had to admit to himself, as soon as he walked through the door, he thought you were pretty cute. That thought was further confirmed as he walked to the counter and when you started nonstop talking about how you were sorry. “Oh, it’s no problem, I wasn’t standing here long! This is the first day of this place being open right? I was walking by the other day when I saw the ‘coming soon’ sign out front, and I just knew I had to come by once it opened, congrats on the opening by the way!”

With your cheeks warming up once again (seriously what is wrong with you, this has never happened before), you say, “Yes, thank you! It is opening day! Business has been booming today and it’s everything I have hoped for! Do you need a minute to look at the menu or do you know what you want?”

“I usually just get a normal coffee if I go somewhere, but I’m feeling adventurous today, do you have any recommendations?”, he says with a shy smile.

“Oh, I have plenty of recommendations! But, I’ll give you my go-to order to try! It’s an iced mocha with breve, or half and half, as the milk, it is so good! Would you like to give it a try?”, you say hopefully he will take the idea.

With a nod, he says, “That’s perfect! I’ll have that and one chocolate muffin.” With that, you ring him up and he pays.

“What’s the name for this order? So I can call it out for you when it’s done of course. We can’t just have people grabbing other people’s coffees, ya know!,” you blabber on and on again.

“Ja-Jack!”, he says stumbling over his words, by how cute you are. “You can put Jack.”

“Okay, great it will be ready right down there.” With that, you get started on his coffee order and get his muffin bagged up.

A few minutes later, Jack is just scrolling on his phone while glancing up every few moments to see you working hard behind the counter. You call out, “Order for Jack!”

Jack makes his way to counter to grab his order, “Thank you!”

“I hope you love it! It’s my favorite drink ever, and I put extra mocha drizzle on it for you!”, You say once again blushing.

“Oh, I definitely will, and I will definitely be coming back!”

“Awesome, have a nice day!”, You say with a smile.

As Jack makes his way to the front door, he realizes he should’ve gotten your number, so he turns back around to go to the counter. You notice so you say, “Oh, did you forget something?” While also hoping he would ask for your number as well.

“I did actually, could I have your number? Ya know, so I can get more recommendations on coffee orders from an expert,” he says with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Hmmm, well I can’t just have you ordering a boring regular coffee now can I? Gotta have some fun in your life! So yes, I’ll give you my number,” You say, while grabbing a sticky note and writing your number on it.

“Awesome! I’ll text you sometime tonight!”, feeling happy with that, Jack says goodbye again and heads to the front door, but he stumbles over the welcome mat. He didn’t manage to spill his drink, but he looks over his shoulder to see if you noticed.

You did notice. While trying to hide a laugh, you meet his eyes, and just give a slight shake of your head. He smiles again and gives a wave walking out the door.

Later that night back at your apartment, you felt so contempt on how well opening day went, and the fact that you met a cute guy in the process, that all you could do was just smile. You felt so happy.

As you snuggled into bed, your phone went off noticing a text message.

the coffee was the best! i may or may not have to come by tomorrow to get another… and say hello to the cute owner once again 😁

sheepishly, you text back

glad you loved it, couldn’t have you walk out with a boring cup of coffee! I’ll be sure to tell the owner that a cute guy is coming in tomorrow to tell say hello 😉

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

“Love is a rebellious bird that none can tame”

After everything she’s been through, falling in love was the last thing she thought she’d ever achieve. And yet, even though she thought herself completely undeserving of anyone’s feelings, she still yearned for it… Maybe you’ll be the one to grant her wish.

characters: Furina x gn!reader

words: ~6360

warnings: spoilers for the 4.2 Archon Quest and Furina’s Story Quest

a/n: So I thought “let’s write something short for Furina, probably won't take too long”, and here I am now, writing this since thursday and with a total of 12 or so pages...

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

There were many things that had changed in the life of the human once known as Fontaine’s beloved archon after the waters swept through Fontaine, engulfing the entire nation as prophesied and leaving her crying on the same chair she had sat down almost an hour before, still devastated from everything that had happened, only for the water to recede once more, leaving the city destroyed but its residents unharmed…

In those moments, Furina couldn’t imagine any of her past subjects being willing to ever look her in the eyes with anything but scorn again, considering how she had lied to them all for hundreds of years, pretending to be their Archon when she was nothing more than a normal human girl drawing nearer and nearer to unavoidable doom… She couldn’t imagine things to turn better in her personal life at all either, having been sentenced to death in front of everyone not too long ago… and yet here she was, reading through the script passed to her by the director, being asked for her opinion and recommendations the same way as when she was still putting on that horrible masquerade.

“My eyes can’t spot any glaring sins in writing in this dialogue… in other words, it’s good, as expected from someone as talented as you, director”, Furina responded once her eyes finally separated from the sheets of paper, catching herself falling back into those theatrical speech patterns she had grown so accustomed to, her lips curling into a polite smile as the director thanked her before quickly moving on to talk to another person.

It had taken Furina quite some time to return to the world of acting, and even after her appearance in the little Oceanid she tried restraining herself from diving head-first into the show-biz again and while there was barely a week she didn’t receive an invitation for a role for the next up-and-coming show, not even being asked for an interview first, acting played the second fiddle when compared to trying to get some time for herself. For centuries her every move was intensely watched, with the only hours she was truly alone being when she was asleep, so getting some time where she was free to try her hands at things in the comfort of her new home was a nice change of pace… especially since her cooking might have required some more refining.

But while Furina was finally free to live the life she always wanted… there still weren’t that many people she could call her friends. The traveler and their companion always on all sorts of adventures, while she still hesitated to reach out to her past colleagues, doubting if they even still wanted her around in the first place.

“Mhm, how could I forget I was dealing with the greatest of actors in all of Teyvat, just remember to look at the stairs the next time we’re on stage, we don’t want a repeat of last time, don’t we?”, the voice of one of her fellow actors rang out, causing Furina to look at the source of the sound, only to see a small group of her coworkers huddled around each other, joking and teasing around while rehearsing their lines and laughing at all kinds of stories of their past and inside jokes… both things still seemingly far out of reach for herself, at least for now. She didn’t like to admit it, but she felt a bit jealous.

Suddenly feeling out of place, Furina forced her eyes back onto the papers in her head, trying to read through her scenes once again, only to find her mind filled with all kinds of different thoughts.

Which sauce should I be trying today? Bolognese? Alfredo? Something new might be nice… but do I really feel like experimenting today? Maybe I should just go out to eat once in a while. It felt like a lifetime since I last visited that bakery near the city center… oh yeah, they shut down a generation ago.

Before she knew it, she sunk further and further into her thoughts, only to suddenly be startled when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, causing the culprit to follow suit.

“Oh, sorry! I was just trying to tell you that today’s rehearsal was over, but you seemed spaced out, so I thought…”, you apologized after quickly pulling your hand away, a look of slight embarrassment on your face before it quickly disappeared again, replaced by a smile that made her heart stop. For a split-second, Furina was about to refute your claim of her spacing out in public, her mouth still working on her centuries old autopilot, only for her to stop herself before a tone could come out, giving you a silent nod of her head.

But while this had ought to be it with your conversation for the day, Furina’s mouth refused to close, the realization that if she didn’t do anything about it, she was just going to go home, do the same thing she always did, eat the same meal she had… admittedly grown a bit sick off, even though she’d rather walk through hell and back before admitting to that flying companion of the traveler that they may have been somewhat right to judge her cooking skills, and get not a single step closer to finally using the chance at living the human life she had always wanted, instead just wasting her days with no meaningful connections until her time would run out quickly dawning on her. 

And so, before any of her anxieties could stop her words were pouring out of her mouth once again. 

“Do you have some spare time to rehearse our dialogues? I didn’t have the chance to see you in action yet, and I’d like to see if you’re worthy of acting alongside me.”

If it wasn’t for her self-control returning to her body at that exact moment, she would have facepalmed herself with enough force to leave an imprint, the cocky remark at the end a textbook example of the bad habits she still struggled getting rid off.

Surprisingly enough however, you didn’t seem insulted, nor disgusted by someone like her, who could not even do anything but watch in her nation's biggest crises, having the galls to look down on someone else. A grin that stretched from ear to ear finding itself on your face instead, your hand reaching out almost instantly as you offered her a handshake. 

“Sure, Miss Furina, let me show you what I’m made of.”

Before she could think things over however, her hand had already grown a mind of its own, shaking yours as she spouted out another confident boast.

“Are you out of your mind?! What good does it do to anyone if you go and throw your life away in a pointless duel? You could have at least asked me for my opinion before challenging him out of nowhere!”, you snapped, a mixture of anger and desperation seeping through your voice as you took a step towards Furina, leaning slightly forward, only to jerk back when she did the same, almost making your foreheads collide.

“I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission for anything. Challenging him might not have been the right course of action, I admit that, but at least it is an action. You hear the townsfolk weep whenever he and his band of mercenaries march into the townsquare and extort them for all their worth. So I’m not going to apologize for trying to help instead of just watching from the sidelines as you love to do”, before you could manage to say another word, Furina had turned around and stamped away, completely ignoring you calling out her name before you were all one… once again.

“Well, you are quite talented, I have to admit. I can see why you were hired to play alongside me. Although you still have a long way ahead of you if you wish to get as good as me”, Furina spoke half-jokingly, she never doubted your acting skills in the first place, she had heard of how talented you were after all, but given her excuse earlier, that wasn’t exactly something she could admit.

“Thanks Miss Furina, it’s an honor to hear someone like you say that. I hope I’ll be able to improve my acting while working alongside you”, you were quick to respond, putting your hand on your chest before giving her a small bow, leaving the actress stumped by your sudden modesty.

What’s this? Where are the competitive remarks you had been spewing out during the entirety of your private rehearsal? Why are you so… modest now?

Furina’s expression must have done a great job at revealing her inner monologue as you were quick to respond.

“Is something the matter, Miss Furina?”, you asked in the same calm tone, only for her to quickly turn her head away, as she realized she had been staring.

“N-nothing”, Furina responded in a subdued manner, looking out of the window and watching the streets grow less and less populated as the sun started to set, painting the skies in colors that made her want to whip out her camera and snap a picture or two.

As the silence stretched longer however, and the colors faded from the skies, Furina was teleported back into reality when your footsteps echoed through the room, approaching the front door one step at a time, causing her to turn around to face you once again.

“Thanks a lot, Miss Furina. I’ve learned a lot today”, you stated with a small smile, your hand already touching the doorknob when Furina interrupted your exit.

“Let’s go home together, I’m not too fond of the city's alleyways once they get covered in darkness”, she suggested. The phrase “not too fond” being a bit of an understatement considering her run-in with near death all those moons ago. And yet, Furina couldn’t help but feel a bit silly for asking you to accompany her, she was an adult after all, one that didn’t have that much of a chance to live life yet, but one nonetheless. But before she had the chance to open her mouth and spout an excuse you were already holding the door open for her, gesturing her to step out first.

“And we’ve arrived”, Furina announced, stopping in her tracks so suddenly that it took you a few steps to realize she was no longer by your side, quickly turning around and seeing her proudly point at the building in front of you. It was a lot smaller than you expected, considering she was the previous Archon and still widely appreciated as an actor. The burning lights in one of its windows made it pretty clear that her apartment wasn’t the only one in the building. But it was far from shabby. It had a nice exterior, was located near the city center and only a few steps away from some major shops, a nice house all in all.

“What? Left speechless by my abode? You flatter me”, she asked theatrically once the silence grew a bit too long to be considered anything but awkward, her voice hiding the faintest hint of nervousness.

“It’s pretty, I wish I’d have a place from which everything was as quickly reachable as from here”, you responded, a polite smile making its way onto your face as Furina’s head tilted by a bit. 

“Don’t you live somewhere near here?”

A shake of your head was enough to make her eyes widen, but once your response left your mouth, you saw her jaw hit the ground. “I live on the other side of the city, so it’s always a bit of a footmarch to get here.”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you to accompany me if I knew you’d have to march all across the city to get home afterwards”, apologies quickly started flooding out of her mouth, obviously feeling bad about her previous request, but when you simply waved her worries off, she grew silent once again.

“It’s no problem. I look forward to our next rehearsal”, you said your goodbyes, only for Furina’s voice to once again stop you in your tracks. 

“Next rehearsal?”

At that exact moment, something in your brain clicked. Today was a one off thing, you had proven your worth as an acting colleague after all, so there was no reason for this to continue. The realization hit like a rock, you had enjoyed it after all, even if you had once again fallen into your old habits of becoming too boastful and competitive once your rehearsal’s started to get into motion.

“Sure, see you tomorrow!”, just as you were starting to think about breaking the silence by apologizing, her voice rang out to snap you out of it, a small smile on her face once you dared to look back up at her.

“Good work as always, Miss Furina. It really felt like I was talking to another person just now”, words of praise left your mouth in place of the line you were actually supposed to say, catching her completely off guard to the point her cheeks started to blush a bit. 

"T-Thanks? Did you forget your line all of a sudden or did the script change?”, she shot back with a tease, hoping it would be enough to serve as a distraction from her face. Instead of making your eyes look away however, your stare grew more intense, to the point she was fearing she might have said something very insensitive.

“I don’t forget my lines, Miss Furina, that’s not something that happens. Scratch that, I don’t forget lines at all, I’m pretty sure I could recite your part from memory at this point”, you shot back with a big grin on your face, your competitive spirit seemingly having been reawakened.

While Furina herself liked to indulge herself in boasting about her skills from time to time, she learned that there came a time when words alone were no longer satisfactory and had to be backed up by actions, so when she heard your remark she didn’t hesitate for even a second to take you up on it, laughter escaping her mouth as she struck a confident pose.

“Heh, well then, bless me with your performance, oh great and mighty one.”

What followed was silence, as you seemed to get lost in thought, your ear-to-ear grin slowly vanishing as your face returned to normal, but once the actress was finally about to offer you a chance out, you started your monologue. One, which while only seeming slightly familiar to her at first, quickly crystallized itself as none other than her character’s from the little oceanid. And while Furina had to admit to herself that you did a pretty good job remembering it, not only knowing what to say, but also when to pause, making it appear as easy as reading it from a script, the way you tried to imitate her voice even if yours was so different from hers made the corners of her lips curl into a smile. Whether it was out of admiration or meant as a parody of her she didn’t know, what she did know however, was that she couldn’t be angry at you even if you were trying to make fun of her, simply finding herself smiling at the thought.

“So you’re either so obsessed with the idea of impressing me that you learned every single one of my lines from heart, or you’re secretly my biggest fan”, Furina joked, only to find you shooting her a smile.

“I couldn’t help it, the little oceanid was just too good for me not to watch it more than once”, you refuted her accusation, finishing the graceful bow you had tried performing before being interrupted by the person in front of you.

“Well, Miss Furina. You’ve heard my rendition of your lines, so make sure to do your homework and read some of mine. Or are you scared you wouldn’t manage it as stunningly as me”, you challenged her before quickly putting on your jacket, opening the door and holding it open until the two of you had stepped outside.

There was no rational reason for her to accept. Taking on extra work when she already had to study enough lines for the play for no other reason than to fuel your urge for competition? That sounded a bit too absurd, even for her. Especially for her.

“Well, let yourself be amazed. Just don’t come crawling to me afterwards begging me to stop humiliating you so thoroughly.”

As Furina silently watched you chop together whatever ingredients she found at home from the dinner table, she couldn’t help but think about how wrong what was supposed to be nothing but another one of your private rehearsals had turned out…

“Bravo! It almost felt like looking into a mirror”, you exclaimed while clapping once Furina had finished reciting your lines perfectly, striking a pose that practically screamed at you to praise her more, a request you were all too willing to indulge her in.

“I’m starting to worry for every actor’s career, considering how you seem to be able to play every role you can get your hands on, Miss Furina”, you continued, only for her face to get happier with each passing word, before eventually raising her hand.

“This should suffice. Do not fret for your career, I’ll make sure to secure you a role alongside me if you ever find your pool of possibilities to suffer from a drought.”

You had a fully prepared response ready, but when you noticed the dark clouds covering the usually colorful sky, you quickly sidelined your current thoughts, choosing to focus on what seemed important.

“It might not be a bad idea to finish for today. It seems like it’s going to rain… and quite a lot at that”, you stated before pointing out of the window, causing Furina’s eyes to wander to where you’d been pointing, only for her to let out a deep groan.

“Rain? Why now? Couldn’t it have rained at night?” She complained to no one in particular, turning around and grabbing her jacket, giving you a small smile as you held the door open once again before speaking up.

“You should head straight home, or else you might not make it before the rain starts.”

“Heh, I’m not made out of sugar. I’ll be fine”, you joked in a confident tone, almost as if challenging the sky to try and wash you away with a flood, ignoring her attempts at playing the voice of reason…

“How’s the rain?”, you asked from the other room, trying your hardest to multitask everything from holding a conversation, walking around the kitchen, peeling some potatoes, cutting a carrot or two and not starting a house fire by accidentally leaving the stove on for a little too long.

“Not great, it seems to have gotten worse”, Furina responded in a meek voice, continuing to stare out of the window, refusing to look in your general direction, too scared of what sort of look she might find on your face.

“Something wrong? You’re unusually quiet”, you asked, only to get a semi-attentive hum as a response. 

If only you had agreed to go home on your own instead of accompanying her, maybe then you wouldn’t have to see the inside of her apartment. Sure, she wasn’t as depressed as she was before rekindling her passion for acting, leaving her home far more often and for different reasons than just to buy macaroni, but that still didn’t mean her home looked too much different from back then. 

With how little time she spent in it during the day, going to your private rehearsing sessions whenever she found the time… which she admittedly did have a lot of, and how tired she was when returning home, only wishing to grab a bowl of pasta and sauce before falling asleep almost instantly, there wasn’t exactly that much time she had for cleaning. But it was fine, she was eventually going to get around to do it, tomorrow maybe, she was tired already after all. Unfortunately for her however, the rain came before “tomorrow” could finally make its appearance. Now forced with the choice of either letting you see this rather pathetic side of her or forcing you to go home in this horrible storm, Furina couldn’t stomach the thought of shutting her door in front of you, and so… this happened.

“Here, it’s a recipe my father always used to make whenever there wasn’t much around. It requires little ingredients and tastes pretty good for how little time it takes”, you stated before setting down a plate in front of her, meeting her glance upwards with a smile you hoped would cheer her up somehow.

“Now that I think about it, you would have loved that old man. He had a lot of stories to tell, enough for him to write a small book about them. Apparently they found some popularity abroad for a few years, it would surprise you how much it netted him. Enough to take us on a small holiday abroad”, you talked to fill the silence, sitting down on the opposite chair from her, digging into your meal almost instantly.

“Was your father an adventurer?”, Furina eventually asked, catching you by surprise as you struggled to gulp down the last bite as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave her waiting for a response. 

“No, a clerk. Quite a boring job, but what his life missed in adventures, his imagination made up for”, you responded before just as quickly continuing, “My mother however was one, quite a passionate one at that. We couldn’t exactly see her too often because of that, but whenever we did, she returned with all kinds of treasures.”

“I’m sorry”, came the words from Furina’s mouth, almost silent enough for you to miss them, confusing you for a split second, but just as you were about to reassure her that it was fine and she had no need to feel bad for asking about your parents, her voice rang through the room once again. “I should have cleaned up, it’s just that I didn’t know you were going to come over today and… things have been a bit difficult.”

Only at that moment did you look around the room, trying to understand what she was talking about, and sure enough, there were quite a few things one could point out as not exactly being tidy, but considering how much worse apartments you had witnessed over the years, it was nothing too bad. No matter how much she talked herself down, Furina still made sure her home had a certain level of tidiness, after all.

“No need to apologize, it’s really not that bad, especially considering you probably weren’t too used to living alone before. If you need help with anything however, just tell me and I’ll lend you a hand. The only thing I’m judging you for are your acting skills after all”, you responded half-jokingly and while it didn’t seem to have too much of an effect at first, you did notice Furina gradually returning to her usual self during the course of your meal.

Eventually however, the storm finally subsided, leaving you free to finally return home. “Thanks a lot for today’s rehearsal and for letting me stay here instead of walking through the rain. Until next time, Furina”, you said your goodbyes only for Furina to quickly step forward and open the door for you, gesturing you to step through the door with a smile once again adorning her lips.

The following weeks brought surprisingly little changes to Furina’s schedule, something that would have usually meant a lot of discontent from her side, considering how she liked to spice things up every now and again, detesting the idea of living through the same cycle day in and day out. And yet, she found herself rather content with it all. And although your private rehearsals still continued outside of your normal one’s, they strayed further and further from their original goal as time went on, both of you starting to simply use it as a convenient excuse to hang out instead of solely using it to rehearse.

And so, after you had managed to rehearse the few remaining lines until you knew them from both heart and memory, the two of you still found yourself with a lot of time left, the sun still far from setting as it illuminated even the least accessible corners of Fontaine. Furina had nearly suggested parting for the day, when you had come up with a different idea, one she found herself easily getting on board with.

“Would you like to go eat somewhere? I feel like I’m starving”, if it hadn’t been for the sound of your stomach rumbling, Furina could have caught herself thinking you were simply too shy to ask her to spend a bit more time together, and while your face was as red as she imagined her own would be when asking you out on a date, it was a safe bet to say you blushing probably had a lot more to do with the previously mentioned reason than with anything romantic.

And here you were now, sitting at a table for two in a cafe she had always wanted to visit but didn’t find the time to, Furina already having placed her order while you still struggled with choosing what you’d like to eat, intensely staring at the menu in your hand while subconsciously making a… rather cute face. It had taken her quite a bit of convincing to make the cafe owner accept money from her, arguing that there was no reason to treat her any differently from the other citizens since she wasn’t their Archon any more, but even then the two of them could only agree on a discount, and yet all the conflicted feelings the undeserved, preferential treatment made her feel, vanished into thin air while she observed you, a small smile making its way onto her face when your eyes widened the moment they skimmed over the parfait section.

“Looks like you made your decision”, she joked as you got startled by the sound of her voice, your face turning red as you avoided eye-contact.

“No, I was just wondering why they were selling parfaits in a cafe like this. I doubt there’s any children visiting this place”, you argued back, only for the blue-haired girl's smile to get ever so slightly bigger.

Oh my, what happened to your usual self? Was all it took for you to get self-conscious to be surrounded by strangers in a public place? If so, she was surprised you could walk onto the stage as easily as you did, never so much as showing the slightest hint of nervousness while acting.

“Excuse me, could I have two parfaits please”, she asked the server passing by, only to receive a nod of acknowledgement before they wrote something down.

“Didn’t you already order something?”, was all you had to ask, the slightest hint of teasing in your voice, only for Furina to give you a small smile in return.

“Just demonstrating how easy it can be to pick something. Did it help?”

When she saw you struggle not to smile at her comment, she couldn’t help but congratulate herself by taking a sip of her drink and before she knew it, you had finally managed to order a drink, only for her second order to arrive merely moments after you had done so. Without saying a word, she slid one of the two desserts over to you before quickly making up an excuse to appease your mind.

“I may have ordered a bit too much for myself, would you mind sharing?”

When you finally finished your act of reluctantly accepting the food and took your first bite, only to throw any semblance of ego out of the window as you practically began melting in front of her the second your spoon made contact with the inside of your mouth. It was then that Furina caught herself shamelessly staring at you, ignoring her own food entirely as her stomach was filled with butterflies at the sight of how happy you were. It was cute, there was no use in calling it anything else anymore, and the thought that you were this happy just because of her filled her with an indescribable feeling. Sure, there had been many times she inspired positive feelings in others, but never before in her entire life was it anyone she considered close, so knowing she could make your days a little brighter with small deeds like these gave her hopes that she wasn’t completely without a purpose in life.

She hadn’t even noticed her mouth slightly opening before your voice had brought her back to reality, instantly causing her to turn away as her face heated up. 

“Do I have something on my face?”, you asked, only for Furina to try her best at playing it off, nervously piecing her response together word for word until she had found something workable, something that allowed the day to continue for a little bit longer before you eventually had to part ways.

As time went on, both of you began to care less and less about the big show on your doorstep, you had spent more time than anyone reciting your lines, learning them until you knew them better than their author, studied your choreography until you were certain you would be able to seamlessly perform your roles even in pitch-black darkness and were instead spending most of your time together doing what you wanted, already having practiced everything there was...

Well, there was one more scene left for the two of you to rehearse. One you two had procrastinated on for weeks. Was it because it was the final scene in the play or because the longer Furina got to know you, the more nervous she became whenever it got closer. You had miraculously avoided having to rehearse it with the others around, Furina bluffing her way out of it by telling the director doing so was just a waste of time, since it only required the two of you and you had practiced it often enough in private for there to be any need. The whole discussion was embarrassing, but far less mentally scarring than it would have been if she hadn’t said anything. 

That being said, today was the last chance to rehearse it, and while neither of you had any problems with anything up until now, you could see her grow more and more tense with every word you spoke.

“I have many regrets in my life, whether one of my many mistakes and shortcomings, or moments in which I stood and watched while I should have acted. I chose to follow you, even though it meant I’d see many of those I treasured the most leave without saying their goodbyes. I fought with you at least as often as I fought by your side, often facing death head on, and still I wear more scars on my heart than on my body”, you spoke with an aura of certainty, one that forced people to listen whether they wanted to or not, your voice was strict as if lecturing someone yet still carried a hint of gratitude, one getting more noticeable once your face softened, “And yet, if I were given the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. Because no matter how much misery this path I took led me to, it also allowed me to stay by your side, something I wouldn’t trade for anything this world has to offer.”

“Why?”, Furina asked in a tone that was as soft as it was confused, only for you to smile in response, one, while amused in nature, still shined as radiantly as a stagelight.

“Because I love you.”

Furina was a masterful actress, being able to come up with suitable responses on the go and, with the exception of a few cases, never breaking character. And yet, even though she knew fully well what the script intended for you to do, when you started to slowly lean in, she just couldn’t do it, shutting her eyes in embarrassment as her face turned red enough to match a tomato.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t!”, she practically screamed in your face, only to immediately apologize, feeling herself shrinking as she wished for nothing more than to sink through the floor. And yet, her wish wasn’t granted, and instead she found herself still standing in front of you the next time she opened her eyes, just in a far more pathetic manner than previously.

When Furina looked up at your face however, the shocked look on your face spoke more than a million words, your questions being so clearly on display that they might as well just be written all over your forehead.

“No problem, I’m sure it must be awkward to do this with a friend, even if it’s just for show… Ah, just imagine someone else, like a-... celebrity you had a crush on… or a cardboard cut-out of yourself”, you tried to lift the mood with a small joke, barely managing to raise the corners of your lips yourself when you saw her still worried face.

“I-... never did this before”, Furina murmured out, barely loud enough for it to be intelligible, and yet, you picked up on it, immediately raising your eyebrows.

“Kiss someone for a play?”, you asked, only for the former Archon to shake her head, her face turning a deep red as you saw her struggle to speak.

“Kiss… someone.” It shouldn’t be such a big deal, she spent the last 500 years playing the role of the Archon of Fontaine, never as much as making a single meaningful human connection, so her not having a slither of romantic experience was nothing surprising. Kissing anyone else for a play also wouldn’t have been that difficult, since Furina was sure she’d be able to enter her professional mode and just see it as a normal part of her career, and yet, with you, she found the task almost insurmountable, her heart beating with such ferocity and pace that it was a wonder you couldn’t hear it while she grew so nervous that it became difficult to breathe whenever you said or did anything romantic… even if it was clearly just part of the script. 

“Oh”, was all you managed to say, a downcast expression setting on your face for a split second before it quickly vanished, replaced with an apologetic smile. “I’m very sorry I have to be your first, I’m sure you’d want to save it for someone special, but considering we don’t have any rehearsals until the show anymore we have to practice the scene today”, you stated only for worry to once again fill your mind when Furina didn’t seem to react at all, simply having shut her eyes while taking deep breaths, only to suddenly spring in action the moment you opened your mouth to say something once again, pressing her lips against yours with such determination that it took you completely off-guard, before eventually pulling away.

“There’s no one else I’d want to give my first kiss to more than you”, Furina spoke, having summoned enough courage to finally speak again, although her voice was still somewhat shaky. It took you a few moments to finally comprehend what was happening, although by the time you did, she had already started her next sentence.

“I love you. I don’t know for how long, but I know why. I love to make you smile, I love to hear your laugh. I love that you didn’t judge me no matter how arrogant and overly brazen I can be from time to time or no matter what a mess I am outside of acting. Without you my only interactions would either be for work or with the shop owner. I’ve learned and experienced so much these past few months, and I know it wouldn’t have been possible on my own. You confide in me so much, and I wish for nothing more than to finally start doing the same, but I still can’t bring myself to do it when there’s just the smallest possibility of us not seeing each other again once this play is done. So will you please tell me how you feel so I can put either my wishes or fears to rest?”

Now that Furina voiced her feelings, she felt herself deflate like a balloon, all of her summoned courage leaving her body as she started to squirm at how cheesy she sounded, but before she could fall into old habits and start looking for an escape, she was brought back to reality by the feeling of her hands being taken into yours, causing her to look up for a split-second, one long enough for you to give her your answer by placing your lips on her’s.

“Was that enough to get my feelings across, Furina?” The moment the words left your mouth, Furina embraced you in a hug, holding onto you as if her life depended on it before you quickly put your arms around her as well, only for the sound of her sobbing to cause a mixture of worry and confusion to flare up inside of you. Just as you were about to comfort her however, you were interrupted by a giggle, faint at first but growing louder until Furina was laughing to herself in between her tears, her lips curled into a genuine smile as she pulled back and looked you in the eyes, her own slightly puffy.

“We can celebrate later, we still have a scene to practice.”

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: I have been really into dark romance and shit, ever since I got that TikTok recommendation. I hereby present yakuza!Shinsuke Kita x Reader. Part 1/2

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! I am late!’, you curse yourself as you almost bolt out of the train, as soon as it stops and its doors open.

You accidentally ran into a lot of people, shouting quick apologies over your shoulder, still running to your workplace.

Thank the heavens for your stamina.

Finally arriving at the Tokyo Ambulance Rescue Station, you quickly run inside and each of your coworkers stops what they are doing to look at you.

Huffing and almost wheezing like you’re having an asthma attack, you step inside and head to the female locker room without looking at any of your coworkers.

Already feeling disgusted by your sweaty state, you change into your paramedic uniform nonetheless. 

Now in fresh clothes, you trot your way to one of the ambulance vehicles, seeing your friend Makima checking the equipment in the backpacks and making sure everything is filled up. 

Gulping in nervousness, you approach slowly.

“Glad you decided to show up. Almost done.” Makima tells you in a deadly calm voice. Makima is one of those people who despise being late, whether it's herself or someone she is waiting on. She is only a few years older than you but still your superior. Great, this is just your first month after graduating but you were so tired last night that you forgot to put on your damn alarm for the next morning. 

Not that this is an excuse, but your showing up is all that matters right?

With shaking footsteps, you make your way into the vehicle and start apologizing in a rant.

“Makima I am so so sorry, I promise it will never happen again!”, you frantically explain yourself, still out of breath.

The long-haired redhead briefly looks at you before bursting out laughing and you don’t know if this makes you feel better or worse. 

Giggling, she closes up the i.v. medication backpack and storages it back underneath the cabinet of the bandages. 

“(Y/N) don’t worry about it really, shit happens to all of us. No one is perfect and everyone here at the station was late once. Even me.” Makima explains and you can feel yourself being able to breathe easier already.

Just when you were about to reply to her, your beeper went off with a loud annoying peeping voice.

You run to the rack, where your black jacket with your name and the words T.A.R.S. are stitched into, and hop into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Reading the screen at the front, you groan at the message that the fire station has sent you.

‘PATIENT PROB OD, TROUBLE BREATHING, UNCONSCIOUS, UNRESPONSIVE ‘

It’s probably the troublesome homeless teenager Denji again. You have met Denji twice now. Once beaten up badly and lying knocked out cold in an alley where he was found by a couple of passengers. The other time you found him almost bleeding to death due to a deep stab wound in his thigh, which he explained he simply got mugged. 

Nonetheless, you press the buttons for the siren and the blue lights, while Makima steps on the gas to rush to the scene. 

The rush and adrenaline are running through your system, making your heart bounce in excitement. Saving lives in acute situations is your thing! It’s a working environment that always comes with new foreign things and patients. Each day is different, which is exactly what your brain needs. Even if you have to drive through the massive city of Tokyo, the different kinds of people and the stories you get to tell your parents sometimes, are worth their shocking and even disgusting expressions sometimes. 

Once you were called to a restaurant, in which a patient had an allergic reaction and went into a nonlethal anaphylactic shock. 

The patient told you that his date was so horrible, that he purposely ate onions, even though he is allergic to them. 

All just to get away from her.

Shaking your head, the logic of men never ceases to amaze you. 

Arriving at the scene, you see two people leaning over a young guy that is laying on the sidewalk. He is already turned to his side, making sure in case he needs to throw up, he doesn’t choke on his vomit. Mentally thanking these people for performing the stable lateral position on the unconscious boy.

You grab the mobile vital monitor and the backpack that includes material for giving an I.V. including meds and an infusion. 

Before Makima grabs the breathing and the medical suction pump, she turns off the siren but leaves the blue lights on. Pressing the lock on the car keys, the ambulance is securely locked. Unfortunately, people tend to break into ambulance vehicles and proceed to steal the medications.

Both women are rushing to the patient, quickly going through the ABCDE approach, and they manage to load him onto the stretcher after making sure he didn’t overdose. His heart is beating abnormally fast, his blood pressure is at 75/40 and when you shine a small flashlight to take a look at his eyes, his pupils are dilated.

There’s no doubt about it, that Denji got his hands on cocaine.

After giving him Adrenaline and Naloxone, his condition stabilises and Denji begins to stir.

Blinking his eyes open, a bright light immediately greets him and Denji swears he died. 

He feels incredibly nauseous and his head is spinning like he just went on countless rides on a spinning wheel. 

You hover over Denji’s pale figure, a vomiting bag already in your right hand. 

“Denji? Can you hear me?” You ask him in a concerned voice.

When Denji was about to answer, he rapidly sits up and snatches the bag out of your hand, and hurls right into it.

Rubbing his back in a comforting manner, you sit beside him on the stretcher.

Makima is giving a quick report to their station boss, before joining you in the vehicle.

The sight of Denji vomiting disgusts Makima, deciding to wait outside because she can’t stand the smell or sight of someone throwing up.

“Denji, I think we should really take you to the hospital, you’re only 16 years old, where did you even get this stuff?” You ask him in a worried voice.

“It’s none of your business, let me out! I need to go!” Denji snaps at you, beginning to stand up. 

You know you shouldn’t fight someone who just woke up from a drug rush, so you let him stand up.

Standing on wobbly legs, he places his hand against the vehicle wall to stabilize his balance.  

Breathing heavily out of his mouth, he was about to open the vehicle door when Makima already beat him to it.

Surprised that he is up, she moves to the side to let him step out of the vehicle.

Denji almost falls flat on his face and his pale face makes you even more worried about him. 

“Denji, are you sure you’re okay? Do you want us to call anyone?” 

“Stop acting like you fucking care about me. I am just a street rat. I don’t need your pity! Just leave me the fuck alone!” He angrily spits at you, like a moody teenager that got his phone taken away. 

Makima and you are watching him walk away, still unbalanced but both of you leave him be.

“You’re welcome by the way for not letting you die today!” Makima yells after him. Denji shows his middle finger up in response and continues to stomp away.

Sighing in defeat, Makima and you get back into the vehicle and you are making your way back to the station.

Giving the report that the patient refused to cooperate and come with you, you drive back.

The clock strikes 22:00 and Makima and you are finally free to change after the night shift has arrived. 

Farewelling Makima goodbye, you begin to walk to the train station.

Having your headphones in your ear, you scroll through your Spotify playlist and choose ‘Glitter and Gold’. 

You had a really busy day and barely had a chance to go to the bathroom. 

Entering the women’s restroom, you look up from your phone, and the sight before you freezes immediately.

Right in front of you stands a very tall guy with sandy-blonde hair, he has to be at least 6’1 and he is holding a lot of tissues against his arm, blood soaking each tissue.

The stranger holds a painful expression while putting pressure on his arm.

His muscled body is leaning against the sink, the blood on his upper arm dripping down right into it. 

Brown eyes rapidly look in your direction, his face shining with curiosity.

Chuckling nervously, he starts talking with his deep voice.

“Don’t scream, don't call for anyone. Just got a little scratch on my arm.” 

Blinking a few times at his wound, you slowly step towards him.

Your approach is making him tense, his non-injured arm moving to his side, where he holds a dagger in case you want to attack him.

“Your wound looks pretty bad. Don’t worry I am a paramedic, I can take care of that if you want to.”

The blonde-haired giant looks at you for a few seconds, making sure you’re not lying. 

After a few moments of tense silence, he nods unsurely.

Breathing out slowly, you awkwardly glance at the door and at him a few times. 

“Uhm. Just follow me then, I need to take a proper look at it. I have my materials at home so come home with me so I can patch you up properly.” You explain to him.

His eyes watch you carefully, hesitantly he nods and puts his maroon jacket back on.

“Do you have a belt or something on you?” You ask him as you both exit the public restroom. 

The tall stranger nods and takes off his belt to hand it to you.

Grasping the belt you begin to tie it around his arm, so the wound hopefully stops the bleeding until you both arrive at your place. 

Wincing at the tightness, he thanks you quietly.

As you both begin to enter the train, which is thankfully empty around this time on a weekday, you ask him what happened to his arm.

“Not that's yer business anyway, so I’d rather not say.” He avoids your curious look. 

“But that wound is pretty deep! You need to go to the hospital and get that stitched up probably.” You try to reason with him.

“I am serious. Drop it.” He snaps at you with an angry frown.

Accepting his request, you decide to drop it. 

With nervous hands, you glance down at the metro floor and wait in silence to arrive at your destination. 

Ten uncomfortable minutes later, you both arrive at the subway station that is close to your apartment.

Unlocking the door with your key, you enter inside and wait for him.

The blonde hesitates for a few seconds, glancing down the hallway nervously before deciding that you’re not a threat, and enters as well.

Gently closing the door, you urge him to follow you into your bathroom where your medical kit lies underneath the sink.

You direct him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and he complies without question.

“I need to see your wound properly in order to clean it up.” You tell him while putting on medical gloves and setting the necessary materials like the stitching materials, disinfectant wipes, and fluid, and scissors. 

He winces while rolling up his sleeve to present you with his injury. 

You start by taking a wet washcloth and gently dabbing it around the area, quietly apologizing whenever he hisses and flinches away from the touch.

As you are now able to see the injury better, you see that it’s actually a bullet wound, hence the bleeding was so heavy.

Shocked that he has this kind of injury, you remember that he doesn’t want to talk about how he got it. 

“Lift your arm please, I need to know if the bullet is still in the muscle tissue.“

He gives you an incredulous look since lifting his arm would only worsen his pain. Nonetheless, he complies.

Quickly looking around his arm you don’t see an exit wound, closing your eyes in pity for the stranger, you know what you are going to say next, definitely won’t be easy.

“Let me guess. That thing is still in there.” He looks to the ceiling of your bathroom with a tight smile.

“U-Uhm yes. I told you to go to a hospital. It needs to be surgically removed. I really recommend it Mr….”, you drift off as you don’t recall knowing his name.

He looks at you and realizes he’s never introduced himself to you properly. 

“Name’s Atsumu Miya, ya can call me Atsumu.” 

Later on, Atsumu enters the familiar door of the headquarters of the ‘Fox Den’ and lets out a heavy sigh.

The pent-up frustration from the fight with Karasuno, the pain, and the treatment that he had to bite through with you is making his body insanely tired from exhaustion. 

Nonetheless, he needs to give a report to his boss, the leader of the Inarizaki gang of Hyogo. 

Atsumu walks down the hallway that has multiple doors connected to it and since it’s awfully quiet, Atsumu guesses that most members are either asleep or away on missions.

Entering the lift at the end of the hallway, he presses the ‘5’ button for the conference rooms and where also the office of his boss. 

Swinging back and forth on his heels, Atsumu waits until the elevator stops and continues his path to the room of the leader of Inarizaki.

Once he arrives at his destination, he knocks first, before entering.

“Hey Kita, 'm back from the mission." The blonde says when he steps into the office.

A man who has silver hair with black tips in it, is sitting at the desk and he briefly looks up from his laptop with a stoic face, before looking down again, continuing to type something down. 

Ignoring the warm greeting of his boss, Atsumu plops down on one of the chairs in front of the desk and puts his arms behind his head to stretch.

Unfortunately, he completely forgot about the injury on his arm, immediately putting the injured arm down again with a winced hiss. 

The head of the gang looks at his trusted friend before a slight frown of concern decorates his face. 

“What happened?“ he asks in a calm voice.

“Oh, you know the usual. Just some fuckers from Karasuno in our territory and one of them fucking shot me.“ Atsumu explains while gently rubbing over his arm, feeling the wrapped bandage from you underneath his jacket. 

His frown deepens at the mention of their rival gang, the Karasuno crows, but listens quietly. 

“Do you need medical attention? Do you want me to send Ginjima or Riseki up?“ He continues to question him.

“Nah, I am good Kita. Got stitched up by this cute girl that I met while I was bleedin‘ out like a pig in a women’s restroom by the train station.“ Atsumu pulls his sleeve to reveal the bandage.

Kita glances at the bandage on his friend‘s arm, a mix between concern and anger but also suspicion haunts his face. 

He slowly gets up from his chair and rounds his table with slow steps, making his way toward the older twin.

The injured man looks at him with curious eyes while raising his eyebrow in confusion.

The silver-haired man stares at one of his most trusted right-hand man with a neutral expression and puts his arms behind his back.

“Tell me more about this mysterious medic girl.“ He demands.

Atsumu grins mischievously at his boss and begins to tell him about his fight to the encounter of meeting you. 

Yawning, you stretched out your exhausted limbs and climbed into your comforting blue soft blankets. The feeling of your head hitting the cushy pillow makes you sigh in bliss. It was a long day, first the rowdy patients, then getting vomited on by a drunk homeless person that almost overdosed, and then there was the injured blonde-haired stranger you met tonight. You’re not going to lie, it was a whole mountain of stupid to just invite a stranger over to your apartment. Anxiously, you remember, that he mentioned he didn’t want to go to the hospital to get patched up because he needs to stay anonymous. 

The only question is…

Why does he need to do that?

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone vibrates with a message. You curiously pick it up to see what the notification is. 

Eyes widening in shock and also a concern, you glance at your screen.

Unknown number

‘Thank you for taking care of my friend. I would like to repay you some time for your kind service’

[rqbossman]

Hello Mr Bossman! (and possibly anyone else who reads this)

Its an honour to be here, I have a few questions. First i appologise for the long paragraph, you may dismiss it for the questions at the bottom. For context, i am here after finishing TMA and being up to date with TMAP, i then went over and listened to RQG, and have just finished listening to Epilogue 3 and might i just say, good sir I am grateful for your podcasts. I am currently just a few months away from my final exams of High School, and as someone who even just 1 year ago was very lost, struggling with school and being just overwhelmed. TMA isnt exactly comforting, but the characters and plot managed to serve as a good form of escapism while sorting myself out. I found my self engaging more in creative things that i had originally put aside in favour of maths and science (which i hated but thought i needed to do). I started drawing again, even if just fanart. and i found things going well. By finding podcasts, story telling and these communities have helped me in my own understanding of what i want in life. I got an ADHD diagnosis earlier this year, and almost directly after started RQG and as my first hyperfixation (that i was aware of as an hyperfixation) gosh dang it hit hard. (in a good way). Ive been able to do so much more creative writing and drawings, and got re-involved with a small dnd group with some friends who i played one game with almost 4 years ago now. So overall, inspirational sounds cringe, but it was. Im doing my best with the upcoming exams, but trying to get in to Medicine is not my only prority, and the fact ive been re-introduced to my first love (Literature and story telling), im planning to go do an Arts degree and i know i wouldnt have been able to confidently make this decision, or even have survived this long in the school system without the work you and your coworkers do. Now the sap is out of the way, Question time! (if you could answer even just one of these questions it would be so cool)(they go in order of RQ relevant to random stuff)(dont feel pressured to answer all/any. i know i wrote alot): 1. what would you say is the best way to draft out a long-form story. (with "Erasing the Line" as an example) Did you start at the end, with the links to the overarching plot.

2. When working with the players (in a form of TTRPG), what did you do to make sure you didnt miss relevant timing of plot points/ avoid creating spoilers while still giving enough detail?

3. What are good places to start with making a job out of storytelling/voice acting/audio etc. In the case of RQ, how is this a job and where do i sign up please! /j (what i mean is, how is best way/how did you find all the people involved and was there a common path that you were all on before getting to where you are now?) 4. Do you have recommendations for Terry Pratchett Books, i may be an literary-leaning student, but it seems i have never actually properly read any of his books. so where is best place to start?/What did you read first?

5. Similar authors or similar inspirations? Did you have a favourite podcast you listen to in your free time that you havnt had a hand in producing/directing/working on. 6. Favourite song/album/artist. And more specifically, what you like listening to in background when doing either writing or (for ttrpg) character research/game planing. 7. Since the olympics are on at the moment, what has been your favourite sport to watch, if you have been watching at all. Thank you for your time :)

Thankyou for all the kind words. Knowing our work is helping people really keeps our engines fired up. Let's see if I can't answer your questions: 1. I "sandbox" which is where I just shove everything I can think of into an unorganised bullet point list. Characters, setting, plot, all of it in one big mess. Then I decide what type of story you want to tell, copy and paste to a new document and then start to organise the thoughts (with the sandbox on standby if new stuff comes in I don't know what to do with). I think of it like scultping, you cut away bits and reshape until something comes out the other end that is story shaped. Only then do I attempt to build the sandcastle and put something coherant together like a synopsis or scratch draft etc.

2. Very tricky. I did a complete review and update of all notes after each recording session and don't forget the audio eas edited. I made lots of gaffs that you never heard as audience.

3. I contacted anyone I could convince to take part and just proved I was serious by overworking. I don't reccomend that route. Unfortunately it really is "who" you know. That doesn't mean chase established professionals as much as it means you need to get out there and associate with other up-and-comers who match your vibe. For me the route was long and windy and not a particularly good example. 4. I normally recommend people do not read his books in publication order. Don't get me wrong, its wonderful watching his craft grow from one title to the next but I would recommend new readers tip their toe into his later works to see if they like where he ended up before committing the time. I often recommend 'Monstrous Regiment' as people's first one. My favourite though is 'Thief of Time.'

5. I don't get much time to listen to podcasts in the last couple of years. I used to listen to a lot of non fiction. 'Stuff you Should Know' and that ilk. I also read a fair amount of classic YA fiction to unwind (Windinsger trilogy, Bartimeous, stuff like that.) 6. Paul Simon's Graceland but when working I assemble a playlist for each seperate project that is tonally appropriate. If I really need to focus I listen to Classical Minimalism. Or the Old School Runescape soundtrack. I'm allowed to be ecclectic. 7. I am actually in an incredibly busy work crunch at the moment so haven't seen any of it!

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 4 [Mack x David]

A/N: *inhales and exhales heavily* Here we go.

I'm sorry...... & good luck. Would love it if you came to talk to me in my asks about this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

Rangers Looking To Make Moves, David Carlson could be one of them.

Insider Sources Hint at Huge Deal Between Stars and Rangers.

Rangers In Search Of Forward Depth: Potential Move Involving David Carlson?

“Mack? Ready in about five?” Her editor, Sonja, asks as she power walks by Mack’s cubicle. 

“Yep.” Mack answers back absentmindedly. She is currently scrolling through her newsfeed, scanning the ballooning elephant of David’s trade rumors. 

Mack tried to talk herself out of looking, but she hasn’t been able to put her phone away. Social media is a dangerous drug. Mack considers herself an expert navigator, but these rumors involve her life outside of 280 characters. The line between reality and rumor has begun to blur. While this happens in her brain, David says nothing. He probably has his reasons, but Mack can’t help but feel betrayed. Why isn’t he talking to her about this? Doesn’t he trust her? This feels like something they should be talking about, even Lucie said as much at breakfast last week.

Mack finishes reading over the comments of speculation. The rumors seem to be trending towards Dallas or Seattle. Mack’s stomach drops out when she realizes how far away both those options are.

“Ready?” Andrew, her colleague asks. Mack nods, putting her phone into her desk and gathering her notebook. The entire walk to the glass enclosed conference room, Mack tries to shed her personal life. Normally, she steps over that threshold and she can become whoever she needs to be to tell a story. Not today.

Today, Mack is quiet, listening to her team members add productive discussion for next quarters issues. Several locations are floated around that should make Mack excited and jumping to go for them. None of them do. Instead, she finds her focus trailing out the window to the building across the street. The world moves around her, but Mack feels stuck in place. Her least favorite thing.

“Mack, how is your hand not up?” Cecilia, another team member, asks. Mack turns back to her.

“What? Sorry?” Mack’s eyes divert to Sonja who looks back at Mack with a neutral face.

“Would you like to volunteer for Ireland?” Sonja repeats.

Mack has been dying to go to Ireland. There is so much to do there, so many different directions she could take her story, and although she has lived in and traveled all over Europe, she hasn’t made it there yet. She is constantly chatting with her coworkers about how she wants to do a story there. But now her hand stays in her lap. How could she leave the country with it being such tumultuous times at home? What if she leaves and David is traded? Coming back to New York and him not being here would slice her open. 

“When?” 

“Three weeks, but you could go as early as Thursday if you want more exploring time.”

“Oh. Um.” She anxiously rubs at her thighs. “I-”

“You could go after Cabo too.” Sonja answers. Cabo is the Allstar trip she has put together for the Rangers with recommendations from her colleagues. Everything is scheduled including a huge house right on the water. It has multiple pools, a hot tub, a private beach, and exclusive access to the Yacht club. 

“I’m gonna have to say no.” She hears herself say. WHAT!?She shakes off her inner demon who wants to launch a ‘just kidding’. Her whole team looks back at her with surprise. “I just need to stick around here right now. If that’s okay? I’ll take something close.” 

“We have that story on hidden gems in America? A lot of them are on the East Coast. Easily day trips.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Mack answers with enthusiasm she doesn’t actually feel.

The meeting moves on, but Mack can’t. Did she really just turn down Ireland for New Hampshire? With everyone’s assignments in hand, the meeting ends. Again, Mack is slow to react. Sonja stays behind.

“Are you okay?” She asks when it’s only the two of them. “You are not yourself.”

“I am a bit distracted.” 

“Anything I can help with?”

“Nope. Thanks for letting me stick around though.” Sonja laughs, shrugging.

“Something is definitely up if you’re missing out on Ireland. Let me know how I can support you, okay?”

Mack nods then Sonja power walks off to her next meeting. After swiping her phone from her drawer, Mack avoids sitting down at her cubical and heads straight to the bathroom at the back of the office. She walks into the last stall, letting her back hit the cool tile. Mack’s head finds her hands, awkwardly shoving her nose to the side due to her phone.

What the hell is happening to me?

Her phone starts to vibrate against her face. She pulls back, seeing David’s picture.

“Hello?” She answers quickly.

“Hi, are you home?”

“No.” Worry settles into her voice.

“Oh okay, no worries. I left my wallet at your place. Just figured it out, now Woody is buying me lunch.” He chuckles. 

“Oh, you can go grab it after lunch?”

“Okay, can I wait for you to get home too? Kinda miss ya.” 

“Yeah.” Mack smiles to herself. 

“I’ll take a look at your bathroom sink too. The water pressure is horseshit.”

“I put in a maintenance request.”

“Why? They didn’t fix it right last time? I hope they come up while I’m working on it so I can teach them what to do.”

“Please don’t.” Mack sighs, but she can’t help a little giggle.

“When will you be home?” He asks her. Mack can hear traffic whizzing by him as he presumably walks along a sidewalk.

“Probably a few hours.” She mumbles. 

“Alright. I’ll entertain myself.” He assures her.

When Mack gets home, she realizes that means he cleaned her entire apartment, fixed her sink, and has dinner in the oven. 

“Wow…” Mack trails off as she walks in. She puts her work bag on the counter and smiles at him by the stove. “Thank you. I haven’t had much time to clean.” She murmurs.

“I know.” He nods, toweling off his hands with the one over this shoulder. “I’ve been keeping you at my place a lot. I figure if I created the problem, I should clean it up.” He puckers his lips for her. “Hi.” He greets her after their kiss.

“Hi.” She smiles. It doesn’t quite brighten up her face or reach her eyes, which David takes notice of.

“You okay?” He tilts his head at her.

“Yeah. Tired.” She lies. 

Well, maybe not fully. She is tired, but the things that are keeping her up at night are things she could be discussing with him. Yet, Mack believes that if he wanted to talk to her about any of this, he would have already. She swallows hard, trying to will the anxious energy in her body away. David’s hands on her hips hold her in place when she tries to move around him. 

“I’m not believing that.” He smiles sympathetically. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Mack nods. She brushes her hand over his stomach as she walks past. She heads to the fridge to grab a sparkling water from inside. David watches her as she cracks the cap open, taking down a few gulps. She hiccups as she pulls the bottle down from her lips. “Why don’t you go change? That outfit looks great, but you should be comfy with the weather we are having.” He points to the window where sheets of snow fall down. 

“Oh that escalated.” Mack murmurs. She walks to the window, looking out at the droves of swirling snow flakes. She sighs, happy to be in here watching it than still commuting home.

“Mack.” David calls softly to her. She looks over her shoulder at him. “Go.” He encourages her, head tilted towards the hallway. She nods again, doing as he asks and wandering down to her bedroom. 

She knows she is spacey and acting weird. But she isn’t quite sure how to act with him right now. A giant elephant is sitting on her chest and he is behaving like everything is normal. Mack quickly changes into a soft sweatsuit in a sage color. She pulls her hair back into a pony tail, then pulls on new, warm socks with reindeer faces on them that her mom put into her Christmas stocking.  When she walks into the main area again, the TV is playing local news. The sports section is on but it rolls through without any mention of David, other than his goal a few nights ago, the last time the team played.

“It’s weird you’ve had so many days off.” Mack says, leaning against the counter by the bar stools. 

“Yeah. I hate it.” David shakes his head. He pulls the towel off his shoulder, tossing it onto the counter.

“What are we having?”

“Spatchcock chicken and asparagus.”

“Fancy.” Mack smiles at him. He stares back at her. 

“Why are you over there? C’mere.”

“You’re so sensitive today.” Mack rolls her eyes. “If you wanna cuddle just ask. No need to get grumpy that I’m standing across the room from you.” She tries to keep her tone light, but it’s a little snippy.

“Kay, get over here I want to cuddle.” He begrudges. Him and Mack both know she is deflecting. She doesn’t want him looking at her too closely right now.

Mack walks across the kitchen, sliding her arms around his waist. David crushes her into his chest and she can’t help but melt into him. Her shoulders drop, jaw unclenches, and mind quiets completely. The trade rumors dissipate. The worry about what could happen to them floats away. It’s just the two of them holding each other in her kitchen. David’s hand smooths over her pony tail, then begins to rub long strokes up and down her back. Mack turns her nose more into his chest. David tightens his grip on her, then drops his mouth to her hair.

It’s clear they both needed this hug. 

They don’t break away until the timer for the chicken goes off. David pulls it out. As it rests, he roasts the asparagus. Mack puts together a salad with leftover vegetables in the fridge. Then they sit down and eat dinner together with a glass of wine each. When it’s over, Mack and David move through the apartment in sync, cleaning up the main space. As the dishwasher roars to life, Mack flips all the lights off and takes David’s hand to lead him down to her room. 

There, they make love to each other. It’s soft and slow, filled with gentle smooches and quiet moans of pleasure. Afterwards, they tangle their limbs together. David falls asleep first, surprising to Mack. She studies his face as he sleeps, seeing the lines on his face soften in his slumber. With David out, a familiar monster begins to awaken inside of her. 

It comes out in the quiet, darkness of night. It confuses her and brings back all the things that had melted away when she was in David’s arms. A huge lump fills her throat. She rolls over to her other side. Doing so makes David’s hand fall off her hip. A cold shiver rolls through Mack as she buries her nose into the pillow case beneath her face. 

During sex tonight, David had murmured really sweet things to her. He told her he loved her. He told her how beautiful she looked today. He told her how much he missed her while they ran through their different, separate days, that the world gets quiet when she is in his arms. But he didn’t say anything about the rumors that swirl around him in his professional life. Every time he has an opportunity to tell her and he doesn’t, Mack can feel herself retreat a little more. 

Right before he drifted to sleep, David had sleepily murmured that he couldn’t wait until they find a place together. The memory of that now has a single tear dragging down Mack’s cheek.

Because for the first time, she doesn’t feel like her and David are on the same page. He is already thinking about them moving in together. She’s never thought of that. She’s never thought of anything beyond the current day with him. Now he sees a future for them that Mack isn’t sure she wants this way. A future outside of New York isn’t of interest to her. If David isn’t in New York, there is nothing tying them together anymore, therefore if he leaves New York nothing ties him to her anymore. 

Meanwhile, she has stupidly turned down assignments to stay with him. Her brain is consumed of thoughts of him even when she is away. Panic begins to thread through Mack’s body. She’s too in love with him. This is all way more than she signed up for. She never wanted this. He’s changed her entire life and she went along with it.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have let it go this far?

Mack rolls to her back, staring up at the ceiling. Tears race from the corners of her eyes, falling into her ear canals. This has gone too far. She can’t do this with him. With perfect timing as always, her monster starts to whisper:

You’ll never be able to keep him. You can’t pretend all the time to be good enough for him anyway.

Mack shudders at the words that slice deep into her soul. She wipes her tears then wills herself to sleep. 

In the morning, this will all look different. She is sure of that. 

Long before the sunlight streams into her room, David awakens her to make love again. He is above her, dragging his cock through her core with soft strokes that set her on fire. When she shudders through her orgasm, he fills her up with his own, then collapses into the bed next to her. As his breathing evens out, he brings her into his side, holding her close to him.

“I’m excited about our future.” David murmurs, fingers getting slower. “We’re gonna give Lucie and Connor a run for their money.” He kisses the top of her head. 

Guilt swirls through Mack’s body. 

David continues planning for a future with her while she is choking in fight or flight. 

A tear slides silently down her cheek. David’s soft breathing behind her tells her he has fallen back to sleep. 

Mack blinks more tears down her cheeks, bottom lip trembling.

He deserves so much better than this. So much better than her. Those words are no longer the dark monster from before. Instead they’re just the truth.

And she’s going to make sure he is free to find what he deserves.

In his arms, attempting to memorize his touch, she starts to make her plans. The Ireland assignment comes to mind.

On Thursday, she’ll go there. Do what she was always going to do.

Run.

Or fly… like the humming bird he compares her to.

He won’t be surprised. He’ll be hurt, sure. But he’ll move on. He has to.

She tells herself this is all for his freedom. 

But deep down, the monster reminders her its for her own.

- - - & - - -

(David)

On Thursday, David looks down at the burger he ordered, mouth salivating at the big, half pound patty dripping cheese and bacon grease. Now this is a damn burger. One he might even find in his home state. Props to the place for sticking to the owner’s midwestern roots. He assess the sandwich, deciding two hands on this one would probably be best.

“That looks fire.” Connor murmurs. He opted for a French Dip sandwich and fries. 

Between the two of them, there isn’t a green vegetable in sight. 

“I’m going to crush this.” David confirms. He unrolls his silverware set, putting the napkin in his lap just in case some drippage misses his plate. Connor does the same.

“I’m so excited to have beef. Haven’t been able to have it at home since…” Connor trails off. David raises an eyebrow. Connor grins then shakes his head. “I can’t tell ya.”

“Slut.”

“Can’t get enough of her, man. Don’t act like you don’t get it.” 

David smirks. He does get it. In fact, he almost cancelled on this lunch so he could stay home and bury himself between Mack’s thighs again and again. But Mack said she had to get some work done, so here he is for the second time in two days eating lunch with his D partner. Mack and David had transitioned over to his place last night to meet up with the Woods. He loves that she is comfortable working from his place when he isn’t there.

David swipes a tater tot through some ketchup then pops it into his mouth. He hopes by the time he gets home Mack is doing better. She was weird when he left this morning, weird last night too. He is glad they have some time together before he goes on the road this weekend. Mack has an assignment in New York that is keeping her home with him during that time. All he wants to do is go to the rink, order glutinous take out and fuck. 

Connor hulks down a huge bite of his sandwich as David digs into his burger. He needs his napkin immediately, swiping it across his covered lips. 

“So how you doing with everything, man?” 

David swallows.

“What do you mean?” He asks, then goes in for a second bite.

“With the rumors.”

“Oh. I’m not listen.” David dismisses. “I can’t worry about that shit and play. It’s too hard.”

“Yeah, I get it. I was the same. Where are you at with your contract?”

“Doug said we would talk about it after the season. My agent doesn’t think here is any concern. It’s not like I’m gonna ask for the bank.”

“No, but get what you’re worth. I need you around here with me. Can’t handle the Hischier girls by myself.” David chuckles. Silence fills the space between them as they both take a few more bites. “How is Mack taking it all?”

David pauses mid-chew. He shakes his head slightly, then answers when he swallows.

“We haven’t talked about it since none of it is true.”

Connor looks up quickly from his fries. They hover in his pile of ketchup as alarming blue eyes look across the table at David.

“Yeah, but you warned her and everything right?”

David’s tongue runs along his back molars as an awkward silence fills the table.

No, he didn’t.

“I mean, no? She knows that shit out there isn’t true.”

“Sure, but you told her that right?” Connor clarifies, pointing at the center of David’s chest.

David stares back at his defensive partner. Slowly, Connor’s mouth falls into a cringe.

“That is not the person to leave in the dark on those rumors, man.”

As if Connor’s words are the final puzzle, it all clicks for David. The way Mack was this morning. How she turned away from him immediately after sex last night. How quiet she has been, almost to the point of calculated. His heart hammers to a stop in his chest then a big intake of air raises his huge shoulders.

“Oh FUCK!” He yells. 

She’s running.

He knows it and the awareness cools his blood, sending a chill down his spine.

“What?” Connor asks, concern etching his brows together.

“She wanted me to go to lunch with you so she can run. I’ve gotta go, Woody.”

In a calmer moment, David would pull out his wallet and throw down a few bills. But a glance at his phone tells him he doesn’t have time. He’s been gone for over a half hour. She might already be packed and he’s gotta stop her. His long, athletic stride carries him the five blocks back to his place. He rushes by Philip without a greeting, then pounds the up button on the elevator.

“Come on!” He shouts when it takes too long. He eyes the stairwell, but his heart might explode if he runs up all those flights of stairs. The doors open and he almost barrels over a couple and their kid as he rushes in. “Sorry.” He mumbles, pushing the button for his floor, then the ‘close door’ one repeatedly until it does. He bounces on his feet, heart pounding in his ears as he attempts to catch his breath. The doors open, he flies into the hallway, not seeing her. He tries the door on his place and finds it open. 

Fuck, he hopes she is still here. 

“Mack!” He yells. 

No answer. 

His sneakers slap hard against the wood floors as he heads down the hallway. He can see her pony tail floating in the doorway. Instant relief flowing through him.

She’s still here. 

His relief is short lived when he walks forward and sees her packed suitcase on the bed.

- - - & - - -

(Mack)

Mack is zipping up her suitcase when she hears the apartment door open. Her gaze snaps to the doorway. David’s hurried foot steps rush down the hallway. She frowns, then goes back to stuffing her phone charger into the side pocket. This is not ideal, but she planned for it. She is ready for this interaction. Ready for him to beg her to stay here with him and prepared with an army of reasons why they are never going to work, now or in the future. 

“Mack, stop packing.” He calls to her from the hallway. Mack freezes. Of course he already knows. She keeps going, putting the suitcase on its wheels. They meet at the door of his bedroom. “Babe, I’m not going anywhere. I talked to management. None of this is real. I’m not being traded.” Disappointment has Mack sighing internally. She wishes he had told her this days ago.

“Okay.” Mack shrugs, keeping a blank face. David frowns. His eyes move to the right, looking over his room. Every single thing of hers is gone, down to the collection of hair ties on her side of the bed. “I’m heading out of town for awhile on a long assignment. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” David chews on the inside of his cheek, searching her face. He shakes his head slightly, looking confused and hurt.

“Mack, what are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She swallows hard, hating the way her voice wobbles slightly.

“You’re going out of town. Why do you need your house slippers?” He motions to where they used to sit by the door.

“Because I want them at my place.”

“So, you going out of town means you aren’t going to keep anything here either?”

“I don’t see the point to that.” Mack shrugs. “Like I said, I am heading out on a long assignment. I’m going to be gone for awhile. I’m not sure when I will be back, so I’m taking everything with me.” 

“What?” He questions. “Where are you going?”

“Ireland.”

“Since when? You just told me two nights ago you were here in New York through the Allstar break, and suddenly you’re leaving for an undetermined amount of time?”

“Yeah. That’s this business.” She says flatly, unemotional. David shakes his head.

“What is happening?” He whispers, getting closer to her. He reaches out for her cheek and Mack immediately pulls away. “Is this about a few nights ago? I didn’t mean-“

“No. It’s not. But that was a reminder to me how… different we are. And I think we should be realistic about our shelf life.” David’s eyebrows furrow together. That hurt him. Mack looks away, not wanting to see the sting on his face.

This is inevitable, the monster reminds herself. She’s just pulling the plug before they go back to hating each other and make this harder for everyone around them.

“Shelf life?” He sighs heavily, stepping aside for her to pass by him. He is hot on her heels into the main area of his place. “What the fuck, Mack? We love each other.” 

“For now.” She shrugs her shoulder, going to her purse and double checking she grabbed everything she needed from the main area. She finds her water bottle and phone where she put them a few minutes ago. She’s officially packed. Mack grabs the key to his place, trying to ignoring the light up, corn key chain and the way it burns her skin in her hand. “I can give you your key back.”

“Stop.” David snaps, enclosing her hand with his. He grabs the keys out of her hands. He shakes his head, looking at her, panic all over his face. “Just…” He licks his lips, looking out at the city. “Talk to me.” 

“I am. You don’t like what I’m saying.” She retorts. 

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. We literally had an incredible night and I make a comment about how I’m excited to move in together someday, and you’re running now? What are you afraid of?” He emphasizes the last line at her, pausing with his hands out to the side. The Iowa keychain in his hand is blinking red, green and blue. Mack stares at it, pursing her lips. A huge lump swells in her throat. She tries to swallow but can’t. 

“I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What?”

“You and me. So I think we should.” She moves her hands apart. “Go in different directions.” 

Stunned, David straightens. He blinks, trying to absorb the blow of her words. He runs the hand without her keys in it through his hair then blows out a heavy sigh. His hand roughly rubs at the stubble from where he shaved his beard off yesterday, leaving only his signature mustache. Mack blinks off the slight hitch of his breathing on the inhale. 

“Okay.” He nods his head, taking another deep breath. 

David stands on the other side of the island, green eyes intense with emotion as he pins her to the cabinets behind her. He shakes his head then stands to his full height. The keys in his hand slide across the counter to her. They skid to a stop next to her right hand. His arms cross over his chest.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get back then.”

“David.” Mack rolls her eyes, throwing the keys into her purse.

Why won’t he let her go easily? How can’t he see what she sees? How different they are? How this started with them hating each other and grew into this thing that was never supposed to happen? How she isn’t meant for this WAG, farm wife, American lifestyle that he wants? She needs to be free- wings wide open so she can breathe. Not turning down assignments and worrying about moving to Dallas.

David doesn’t say anything else to her, just stares her down. Mack can tell he is holding everything he can inside. For her benefit or his, she can’t tell.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back.” She reiterates.

“Okay.” He is eerily calm now.

“So we should go separate ways.” 

“No.” He says clearly and assertively. “You wanna run from me, baby? Then just run. Go. But when you’re done with that, and you come back home, I’ll still be here, loving you. You can move your shit back in then too.”

Mack swallows, looping her arm through the handles of her bags, looking down at them because she can’t look at him. 

“It’s for the best.” She repeats. 

“Mack. I love you. So much.” He whispers, words rough and callused like his hands from working the farm his whole life. The words sound painful as if they rip up his body when he says them. Nothing like the ones he whispered to her last night when they made love. 

It almost gets her to stay.

She hesitates for three more seconds, but her mind screams go. So she does.

“Goodbye, David.” 

He puts his head in his hands as she turns to walk out of the kitchen. She can hear his heavy, uncontrolled breathing behind her until the closed door cuts them off. 

Mack doesn’t breathe the entire ride down the elevator. A numbness comes over her as she tries to convince herself to keep moving forward. She thought she would feel better after doing this. That she was holding them back, him mostly, and cutting the tie would give her back that feeling of freedom she craves. The freedom that he deserves too.

All she feels now is dead inside.

Mack walks out of the building, strutting across the sidewalk with her hand high in the air to hail down a cab. She isn’t sure how her feet are moving so fluidly with how violently she shakes.

“Goodnight, Ms. Hischier.” Philip calls cheerfully behind her.

“Bye!” She calls, waving over her shoulder. She can’t turn around. If she turns around, her feet are going to go right back through that door. 

And she just can’t.

This is not who she is.

She isn’t a WAG. She isn’t a farmer’s girlfriend. She isn’t anywhere close to wife material or a forever kind of girl.

She is a runner. A lone wolf. Who should have taken that elevator home a year ago instead of jumping into bed with her brother-in-law’s teammate. 

The words continue on like a self-deprecating mantra she can’t silence. 

David deserves better. He deserves a wife. Someone who wants to settle into that small country life with him, or in Dallas, and stands next to him through the storm. Not someone who can only see this working if all the cards are stacked in their favor.

Mack, I love you. So much. His voice rings through her brain.

“Fuck.” Mack sobs, shakily trying to breathe in the back of the cab as it pulls away from him. 

Over her heart, her fingers clutch his number on her neck. She pulls, snapping the necklace off her body.

“Ow.” She whispers to herself as her head falls back to the head rest.

If this was what she needed to do, then why does it hurt this damn bad?

Read more Mack and David here.

[manipulatedstars]

We'll Be Alright

Genre: fluff, slight angst if you squint, non-idol AU, office romance, coworkers-slash-friends-slash-idiots-to-lovers

Pairing: Mingi x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Pink Mingi (a valid warning), symptoms of anxiety and panic but nothing serious, mentions of gambling ig, Wooyoung being Wooyoung

Summary: When Mingi overhears some colleagues talking, he realizes he has to finally make his feelings known - easier said than done.

A/N: Can you believe this bitch (me)? Apparently I write now?? This is my first ever finished fic, and I'm eternally grateful to @hobarine for being the greatest beta reader without agreeing to being one in the first place. I love your sexy brain. [clears throat and wipes tears] I'd also like to thank my dear friends who made this possible in the first place - check the end of the fic for what violently inspired me to write this. Feedback and reblogs appreciated! Also - this is not a song fic (well... I suppose it very much is, but not in that way), but I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last very much set the tone for this, so I highly recommend you check it out.

The first couple times your new coworker had poked his head around the side of your cubicle, it was all business - or at least as much business as it could be considering that new colleague was Song Mingi.

It had all started out with work-related questions when he joined the company and, being one of the company’s top salespeople, you were quickly tasked with showing him around and answering any questions he might have. Your boss had personally offered Mingi the position, so he wanted to make sure the newcomer was going to stay, considering he was a “natural at his job” and would “undoubtedly prove to be a huge asset to the team.” You'd learned not to question your boss's decisions after he'd proven time and time again that he had a gift for picking out new team members, despite his sometimes questionable and unusual methods.

You also didn't question why Mingi, even after he'd grown accustomed to his new work environment, kept sticking around you. He never addressed this but he was shy around other people and you were still the only one he sort-of knew. And you, having grown to enjoy his company despite him being borderline clueless and painfully clumsy at times, weren't gonna complain.

So what started out as, "I'm so so so sorry, could you please explain the printer to me again? I'm so sor-" quickly turned into deeper, more personal questions and conversations. Not in a weird way, of course, he just really enjoyed being around you and wanted to get to know you better. Or so he kept telling himself and others when someone pointed it out. Over time, he had become fairly confident that you two could be considered friends, and he couldn't be happier. So you got used to him just poking his head, adorned with his signature pink hair, around the corner and asking you about movies and books you’d recently enjoyed, your most hated color (because according to him, asking for a favorite everything was overused), and your go-to spots in the area. At times you'd even catch yourself thinking how cute his childlike nature was. The only thing that put a damper on his mood was when one day he was put in a cubicle on the side of the office furthest away from you, for “productivity reasons" - not that it actually kept him from coming over to you just as often. In fact, he claimed to need a rest at your desk from the “extensive workout” they made him do in order to come this way. You never commented on how he was the only one to blame for full-on sprinting through the office space instead of walking like a normal person.

His favorite days are measured by how often, and how loudly, he managed to make you laugh that day. He could get lost in the sound, and knowing he was the reason for it? He wouldn't be able to wipe the smile from his face if he tried.

If only he knew that his visits had started to become the best part of your day, too...

You were thoroughly enjoying each other's presence. Always having lunch together, and taking a little bit too long to walk to your respective cars after work.

It was a regular Tuesday when Mingi made his way to the break room to get his regular drinks - a green tea for you, and a coffee with an obscene amount of sugar for himself - something you’d chided him for, telling him time and time again it would kill him one day.

He didn’t mind waiting for some coworkers to free up the coffee machine. He’d gotten used to it pretty quickly after the second one had broken some time ago. This just meant that the room was less crowded, since the majority of his colleagues had since chosen to head to the cafeteria downstairs instead of having to stand in line like he was now. But in his opinion, they were the ones missing out. He enjoyed getting to know the usual suspects of the breakroom a little better each time they happened to get something to drink when he did - which was the same time every day.

So it would’ve been just a regular coffee run on a regular Tuesday, if it hadn’t been for the conversation happening in front of him. He wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but nothing caught his attention quite like you did. Or, in this case, your name falling from one of the men’s lips. Mingi decided that he didn’t like the way it sounded coming from someone else, someone who probably didn’t even appreciate you in the way you deserved.

The men didn’t seem to notice him standing close by, or simply didn’t care whether they could be overheard or not, because their conversation didn’t seize.

‘’...I mean have you seen them lately?’’

He sure had.

‘’I’d be stupid not to make a move. They’re a catch.’’

NO! Well, yes..but-

’’Isn’t Song head over heels for them though? Kind of a dick move if you ask me…’’

They knew?

’’Come on, we both know he’s too much of a coward to actually go for it.’’

Mingi began to panic. He’d been so enamored with you since the two of you had been introduced that he’d never even entertained the idea of someone else possibly hitting on you. Of course he knew you were pretty. Gorgeous, even - he had eyes after all. He also knew you were the epitome of grace and kindness. Anyone would be lucky to be with you. But he’d been trying slowly and carefully to inch his way into your heart, and now realized that he was so focused that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of anyone else sharing the same end goal.

God he was so stupid-

He knew he had to act. Fast. Despite his insecurities trying to convince him that you’d surely be better off with someone who didn’t stumble over their words, someone who was confident and could sweep you off your feet, he knew he would forever regret it if he didn’t at least try.

Even if the chances may be slim, he couldn’t live with himself if he lost the opportunity to make you his, especially if he lost it to his own mind.

You were just typing up a response to Park Seonghwa from HR, who had once again asked you to consider joining their team, when suddenly, a loud BANG startled you out of your thoughts. You joined some of your other coworkers in getting up from their seats to see what the commotion was about, and you couldn’t help a bright smile from lighting up your face the moment you saw Mingi standing in the doorway. Though your smile dropped just as quickly when you noticed the look of pure distress on his face, his eyes scanning across the room rapidly. The second your eyes met, he started hurriedly making his way over to you, ignoring any of the worried and questioning glances and occasional comments that people were throwing his way.

What was going on?

‘’Mingi, what-’’ your question was cut short when he gripped your shoulders the moment he reached your cubicle. He was panting, eyes blown wide and never leaving yours, as if he was afraid you’d disappear the moment he so much as blinked.

As if he was only now noticing the stares and whispers directed his way, he glanced around the room timidly. His nerves seemed to catch up with him, because he turned and went to leave as quickly as he’d arrived - if it hadn't been for your quick reflexes and your hand curling around his wrist, stopping him in his motion.

It took you gently calling his name a couple of times for him to finally turn around to face you again - and now you could see the sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

He was also avoiding eye contact.

Now you were really worried. Was he sick? Did something happen?

"Hey, what's wrong?'' No answer. ''You look really pale... are you not feeling well?"

When he stayed silent again, you brought one hand up to his forehead - an instinctive action for you, but definitely not what he’d expected, because his face quickly went from looking sickly pale to flushing a deep scarlet.

Your eyes widened when you noticed how warm his skin was, placing your other hand on one of his cheeks. "Mingi, you're burning up. Do you need to see a doctor?" When again he didn't answer, you turned to grab your things, preparing to carry this man to the nearest hospital if need be, but now it was his hand around your wrist that kept you from moving further.

You glanced from where he was touching you with a gentle yet desperate, clammy hand and back to his face, noting the panic in his eyes that were still refusing to meet your own.

Any stranger passing by would've assumed you were approaching a stray kitten, desperately trying not to scare it off, but you knew how much of a flight risk Mingi could be when things got too much to handle. "Hey, you know you can talk to me, right? I'm only trying to help you," you said with the gentlest voice you could muster despite your racing thoughts.

Yeah, that was the main problem, he thought, you're the only person who makes this job bearable, and I can't lose you by messing this up. You bring both your hands up to cup his cheeks when you notice the tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Hey, look at me.’’ you dipped your head trying to lure his eyes into meeting yours. ‘’You won't lose me. Why would you?’’ a gentle brush of your thumbs over his pretty cheekbones ‘’How could I make it through one day at this crappy office, with its crappy coffee and the crappy AC that’s broken more often than not, without you?"

Oh shit, his eyes widened even further. Did I say that out loud? Oh god-

He was about to bolt again, mentally calculating how long it would take him to make a detour to a wig store or a hairdresser on his way to the airport, determined to start over in a faraway country, when he involuntarily locked eyes with you. He never understood how you did it, and he was sure there was no possible scientific explanation for the effect you had on him, because the way your eyes, filled with nothing but kindness and understanding, always managed to calm him down instantly was nothing short of magical.

You had to be a heavenly being sent to look out for him - him, this mere human - and him alone. It was in this moment that he remembered what you'd told him time and time again. Realized that he really could say what had been running rampant in his mind for months now. Reminded himself that he could be open and vulnerable with you. You, who had never shown him anything but support and guidance, even when you were having a bad day yourself. Alright. You, who always managed to find a peaceful solution to any argument or tension that arose in the office… He'd be alright. You, who somehow didn't hold grudges even when people had wronged you. You'd both be alright.

You must've noticed the change in his demeanor, because your lips curled up into a small version of one of your beautiful smiles that he loved so much. Shit, he wouldn't be surprised if you could hear his pulse slowing down, his heart rate finally dropping to a point that wouldn't have sent an entire hospital wing into a panic had he been hooked up to a monitor, with news reporters flocking to his bed trying score an interview to find out how the hell he had managed to survive that.

So he closed his eyes, which were now stinging in protest to having been kept open wide for way too long, and took a deep, if shaky, breath.

That was all you, too. Your encouragement to face difficult situations despite every fiber of his being telling him to run. Your influence. You were the one who told him time and time again that things were going to be okay. You showed him that he was in control of his fate and his feelings, and that even when it felt like the whole world was against him, you'd be by his side. No wonder the HR department was desperate to get you to join them…

Mingi couldn't run away now if he tried. He owed you this much. If nothing else, he owed you an explanation, and honesty. He wanted to make you proud.

So with another deep breath, this one a little less shaky (the first one had you worried he might burst into full sobs at any second), he covered your hands in his much larger ones, pulled them from his face and intertwined your fingers with his between your bodies. When he finally opened his eyes again, they were full of determination.

This shift in tone, with him being calmer and more confident than you'd ever seen him, had you thankful for the grasp he had on you, needing his hands around yours in support as your breath hitched when you noticed the raw adoration in his gaze.

His voice, beautifully airy and deeper than you swore you'd ever heard it before, sent shivers down your spine. There was everything yet nothing as you got lost in his gorgeous, warm eyes, and now his voice too. You weren't in your office anymore. You were standing barefoot in a forest, surrounded by majestic trees and vibrant wildlife, a gentle breeze almost calling out your name. You were on a beach, the warm sand comforting between your toes, the waves softly crashing behind you, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. You decided then and there that his eyes' gorgeous shade of brown was your new favorite color.

It took his voice calling your name softly to bring you back to the present moment, a bashful smile on his stupidly handsome face. Had he always been this pretty?

"Please tell me you heard what I just said?'' he asked shyly, knowing full well you'd completely spaced out.

"Uh..." You grimaced. At that, he couldn't help but turn his face downward as he murmured to himself, but you were so focused on him now that you had no trouble making out the words. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're making me do this again". He would've buried his face in his hands had they not been occupied with the much more important job of holding the world's greatest treasure.

He hadn't missed the way you'd gotten lost in his eyes, and it only fueled his confidence. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, it was the same way he’d been looking at you more often than not since he'd met you.

He took a deep breath. "I said..." he paused as he brought one of his hands up to your cheek, his other hand easily holding both of yours in their previous position.

You felt yourself blushing. Hard.

Stroking his thumb over your cheek gently, he continued "...that I like you. I like like you. No, scratch that -’’ a gentle shake of his head ‘’-I'm crazy about you.’’ His gaze dropped again as he started rambling. ‘’I hope this doesn't make things weird between us, and I'm so sorry if I read things wrong, and if y-" he started mumbling, nerves catching up to him again, insecurities trying to invade his mind and win back precious land. But you noticed. And you smiled at him in adoration, and squeezed his hand in reassurance. This made him look up at you again. You're going to be alright, you tried to convey with your eyes, we're going to be alright.

Another deep breath, followed by a lighthearted chuckle at his own antics.

"The point is, I really like you, a-and I would love to take you out on a date? O-only if you want to of co-" he couldn't finish the sentence, because you promptly freed your hands and grabbed his face again, pulling him down to you (what they fed him as a kid to get him so tall, you'd really have to ask his parents one day) and pressed your lips to his in a firm and reassuring kiss.

His eyes widened again, cheeks heating back up, but he melted into you as soon as the first shock wore off, arms wrapping around you almost on instinct. As if holding you was their only job, and what they were meant to be doing all his life. He pulled you up to his level seemingly without effort before getting lost in the next kiss. Feeling your fingers running through his hair, he groaned inwardly. Mingi could do this forever, and he would if you let him. He'd figure out a way to survive without oxygen. If not, he decided the team would be fine without him.

You only pulled apart when you noticed the cheers and clapping that had erupted around you, even the occasional wolf-whistle coming from your coworkers, most of who'd gotten up from their seats again, if they’d even settled down after the shock of Mingi’s arrival. You hadn't seen them this lively since the day your boss had ordered a coffee and snack truck to the parking lot in celebration of sealing a deal everybody had worked hard to finally make happen. The majority of them had their headsets still attached, and had you not been so ecstatic you would've felt bad for whoever was getting their ears damaged on the other end of their lines.

"About damn time, Song..."

"TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!!

"He finally grew a pair!"

These were only some of the lines being thrown at the two of you that had you blushing furiously, and Mingi hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

You could've sworn you saw a few fist bumps and some money being passed around, but you decided not to dwell on it for your own sanity’s sake...

After the noise had mostly died down, Mingi put you back on your feet just so he could press his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling. Maybe oxygen wasn't so bad after all if he got to share it with you.

You almost missed the signature fake gagging sound of your most obnoxious co-worker, but before you could chase him off like you usually would when he started to tease you about the way you, in his words, "spent more time staring at Mingi than actually working", the telltale sound of a palm making not-so-gentle contact with the back of someone's head (and the dramatic pained yelp that followed) made you realize that your boss had already taken care of Wooyoung himself. You swore he kept an extra set of eyes on the mischievous man-child just so he wouldn't miss an opportunity to reprimand him.

The same boss who sent you a curt nod and a small smile, before telling “the two lovebirds" to get back to work. Though you knew that he’d want to have a word with Mingi later, seeing as how the force with which he’d slammed open the door must’ve left at least an indent on the wall behind it.

It was safe to say you didn't get much work done the rest of that day, but you also never had to eat lunch alone again, or walk to your car without a strong, loving hand holding your own...or drive to work yourself, really.

Even years later, with your left ring finger now permanently occupied, you loved to remind him how proud of him you were.

✨Lore time✨

Here's how everything started:

Bonus:

(I was, in fact, not almost done)

A loving shoutout to my dear friends for planting this idea in my head. And thank you to everyone who read through it and left valuable feedback - you know who you are 💜

©manipulatedstars 2023 - do not steal, copy, repost, translate or otherwise plagiarize my work. If you do, I'll eat all your cereal and pour milk in your shoes.