#i have never had to call my manager up to deal with customers as many times as I did today

[did-you-fall-for-a-shooting-star]

Is today a full moon? Is there some type of planetary alignment? Is the fucking apocalypse coming???

WHY ARE PEOPLE BEING SO FUCKING WILD TODAY???

[thriftedtchotchkes]

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long? 

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever. 

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane. 

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. 

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency. 

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons. 

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver. 

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever. 

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal. 

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault. 

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less. 

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here. 

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying. 

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go. 

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again. 

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far. 

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it. 

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust. 

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later. 

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.  

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him. 

The girl he waited for. 

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out. 

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for. 

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option. 

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you? 

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan. 

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Barista

Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: nothing. only fluff Summary: Although the barista at the local coffee shop never seems to be able to get Matt's order right, something keeps bringing him back. A/N: enjoy this quick little fluffy thing I whipped up in the notes app of my phone <3

Masterlist

Matt winced after he took another sip of his coffee. You had added cinnamon to it this time. Cinnamon. He didn’t know how you managed to do that. His coffee was simple and, more importantly, never changed, but you—a barista at the local coffee shop—always somehow managed to get it just a little incorrect.

But, also, Matt wasn’t exactly keen on skipping his weekly coffee trips.

“What did she put in your coffee this time?” Foggy asked after having witnessed the face his friend had made.

Matt sighed. “Cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Foggy laughed. “I don’t understand how that is even possible. Why do you keep going to that place?”

Matt did his best to his shrug casual, undetectable. “No reason. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Foggy gasped. “Oh my gosh.”

“What?”

“There’s a hot barista, isn’t there?”

Matt immediately started spewing out (weak) protests. “What. That’s… I— How would I—,”

But Foggy cut him off. “Don’t give me that again, Matthew. You do know. You can’t stop yourself from going to the coffee shop because you’re trying to get with a hot barista.”

“Okay,” Matt said in defeat, “maybe let’s not call her ‘hot barista.’ She’s just… She’s very kind. She makes silly coffee puns when I order. Sometimes we get to talking and… I don’t know. I like it. I like her, I think.”

“Even though she gets your coffee order wrong every single time?”

Matt blushed. “Well, I think I make her a little nervous. I may or may not have noticed some spikes in her heart rate.”

"Oh, that’s perfect," Foggy said with a laugh. "So, when are you going to ask her out?"

"I— I don’t think I can do that. That would be weird, right? Maybe she’s just being nice to me. I don’t want to be one of those customers."

"But you said her heart skips when you walk in."

"Sure, but maybe she’s just an anxious person—,"

Foggy scoffed. "Since when have you ever had this many reservations about asking someone out?"

"I don’t know," Matt admitted with a sigh. "I don't think she needs to get wrapped up in all my stuff."

"Actually it sounds like she very much wants to get wrapped up with you."

"Foggy…"

"Alright, alright, I’ll stop," he said, raising his arms in surrender. "I’m just saying, it sounds like she might be into you so I would at least think about it."

And so Matt did. He tried not to—he really did—but no matter how much he resisted it, your angelic voice and his best friend’s insisting words kept creeping up in the back of his mind. Even when he was out patrolling his city, the thoughts didn’t leave him.

In fact, it consumed Matt for an entire weekend. And he found himself back at the coffee shop bright and early Monday morning.

As Matt opened the door, he was immediately hit by your soft, sweet voice talking to another customer. You were kind and respectful as you interacted with them but Matt was quick to notice you didn’t share a coffee pun. He didn’t know why that made something in his chest warm.

When he approached the counter, he heard your heart speed up just ever so slightly, as if on perfect cue. Matt enjoyed trying to act clueless sometimes.

"Good—Good morning, Matthew," you said. "It’s good to see you again. I missed you a latte this past weekend."

Matt subtly tightened the grip on his cane. He swore you winced at your words, which he found adorable. "Good morning.” He couldn’t help but smile. "That was a good one.”

You giggled. And it nearly took his breath away.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I have to start looking up new ones. I fear I’m running out.”

Matt shook his head. “We can’t have that, can we?”

You laughed again. You were as giddy as ever around him. Maybe Foggy wasn’t completely bonkers, Matt thought.

"What can I get started for you today, Mister Lawyer?”

"Coffee. Splash of cream," Matt answered.

"Of course, of course," you muttered to yourself before waltzing around behind the counter. The sound of grinding beans and dripping coffee made Matt’s ears perk up.

"Busy day today?" You asked over the noise of the machines.

Matt shook his head. "Paperwork to do, files to review. The usual," he replied but his words felt jilted. Should he ask you? Would that be weird? Would you call the cops or something?

"Well, that’s good to hear! Your day will fly by," you said quite cheerfully. It made Matt feel really good—a particular kind of good that didn’t always come easily for him.

"It’s already off to a great start here," Matt replied, taking a little leap of faith. He swore he heard you gasp. "Um, you know, there is something I wanted to ask you."

You were now pouring coffee into a to-go cup. Matt didn’t think you had messed up anything this time but he couldn’t be sure. He was a little distracted.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked. Your voice was suddenly shaky. Your heart rate shot up. Not just a skip like before. It was pounding.

It could mean anything, really, he told himself.

"Yeah." Matt took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. With me."

Something heavy hit the counter. "Uh, dinner? Like as a date?"

Matt chuckled. "Yes, exactly like a date."

"I’d love to." You didn’t even hesitate slightly. That made Matt feel really good.

"Great," he replied. He was sure he was keeping his composure from the outside but on the inside? He wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

You two exchanged contact information after Matt’s order was ready. He paid and you both kept it very professional, even when he noticed your hands were pretty much shaking.

The professionalism fell when he was bidding you a goodbye. You stepped around the counter to plant a kiss on his cheek and wish him a good day. It nearly took Matt aback but not in a bad way.

A permanent smile was etched onto his face for the entire morning—even when he went to take a sip of his coffee...

Vanilla. Matt could smell it, he could taste it. You had somehow added a splash of vanilla syrup to his cup of coffee. Matt laughed to himself.

[katanablue]

I originally had a totally different idea for this but I think I may just do a part 2 hehehe. ALSO IF ANYONE GOT ANY GOOD 07 DONNIE FICS ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Warnings: NONE JUST DONNIE BEING A CUTE GRUMPY DORK.

Another day another long boring shift full of talking to idiotic people who don’t know the difference between hardware and software and explaining to one too many elderly people that ‘No, you cannot print out the Internet.’

He’s just finished a call, rubbing the space between his eyes as he feels his daily headache come on. He’s impressed that he’s managed to nearly finish his workday without it appearing until now. He groans low in his throat, debating on getting up to grab a glass of water so he can take a pill or just sucking it up these last 30 minutes.

He gets his answer when an incoming call rings through his headset, making Donnie roll his eyes hard and into the back of his skull. He inhales deeply through his nose to prepare himself, letting it out when he clicks on a key to answer the phone.

“Thank you for calling tech support, this is Donatello speaking, how can I help you today.” He doesn’t bother putting on his customer service voice, his headache dully throbbing now as he waits for the other person on the line to start rambling about their dumb issue.

“Hi, how are you today?” You say, giving the standard pleasantries before delving into your computer issue.

Typical, of course his last call would try to make small talk.

“I’m fine ma’am, thank you. How can I help you today?” He repeats it, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again and leans back in his chair, swaying gently side to side. He thinks about what he should eat after, his eyes trailing to the clock in the Lair that signifies in big red letters that it’s nearly 2 a.m. Not the latest he’s stayed up but today’s shift was particularly exhausting. Maybe it’s the full moon or something, ‘Mercury in Gatorade’ as Mikey would sometimes call it.

“Hello?”

Shit. He totally just fucking zoned out on you.

“Apologies ma’am, I didn’t quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it?” Great, he just extended this call by about 2 minutes.

“Oh, that’s alright! I’m dealing with an issue with my laptop’s ability to open programs fast. It’s taking forever just to open something and I’m not quite sure why.” You repeat your issue, quietly sighing as you aimlessly move your mouse around your screen, hoping that the guy on the other side will be able to help with you.

Donnie immediately knows what the problem could be; slow processing speeds a fairly common issue for him but thankfully an easy fix.

So he starts by asking the standard questions: do you have any programs that take a lot of space? Any tabs open that you aren’t using? Anything running in the background?

When you tell him ‘no, no and no’, that’s when he sits up from his chair and squints his eyes. If those aren’t the cause of your laptops slow speed then what could it be?

“Well,”

Ah, there it is.

“I do play a few games but those have never caused me problems before. Could that be it?”

Normally Donatello’s irritation would increase when the customer would ‘suddenly remember’ something that could be pausing their problem. You, however? Didn’t spark that within him for some reason. In fact, besides your calm demeanor, it’s the way you spoke so kindly to him combined with the fact that you also game apparently that has Donnie not wanting to snap at you.

“Like what?” He asks, being sure to keep it professional.

And when you list his all time favorite game among some others that he’s obsessed with, he has to practically force himself to not totally geek out. Sure he’s played some of the popular games nowadays like League or Valorant, but hearing you say that you modded some old PS1 games to play on your laptop practically skyrockets his excitement.

Which in turn makes his headache pound harder.

He’s unable to keep himself from hissing when a pang shoots right through his skull, knowing you heard it when you trail off your sentence.

“Are you alright?”

Maybe it’s because he’s had a long day or maybe it’s because this seems to be shifting into a migraine, but the concern and sincerity in your voice makes an odd feeling bubble in Donnie’s chest. Surely no one would ever be genuinely worried over an I.T guy, not when you have more pressing matters on your hands.

“My apologies miss, I’m just uh, dealing with a bit of a headache right now. Although I think it’s turning into a migraine.” He grunts through his clenched jaw, swinging carefully around in his chair as he searches for his bottle of Advil only to suck his teeth when he shakes the container and hears absolutely nothing rattling around.

“Oh no, I’m sorry! Do you want to go grab some medicine? I don’t mind waiting.”

The corner of Donnie’s lip twitches upward. He brings his hands to massage at his temples, the motions doing something to relieve the tension in his head but not nearly enough.

“I unfortunately just discovered that I’m out of medicine. But that’s alright, I’ll pick some up after this call.” He doesn’t bother hiding his sigh, settling back in his seat as he prepares to ask you more questions to help you out.

“What about any oils? Got any of those? Usually lavender or peppermint do the trick.” You put him on speaker and go to your Safari on your phone to begin looking up other remedies, wanting to assist this poor I.T man.

Donnie’s not quite sure why you’re trying to be helpful but at this point he doesn’t exactly care, the throbbing getting worse by the second.

“It could also be too much pressure, literally, around your head. Do you wear headbands or anything like that? Could also be your headphones.”

“No, no headbands. And my headphones have cushioning all around so not those either.” He responds, debating on texting Mikey to bring him the peppermint oil that April bought for Splinter last Christmas.

“Ah, a man of comfort.” You laugh, fingers quickly typing in your question into the search engine.

Donnie finds himself smiling faintly at the sound, a fleeting thought of ‘Wow, I want to hear that again’ passing through his brain.

“Well, I can’t use regular headphones for gaming. I’m also a fan of those games that you play.”

You blink in surprise, your scrolling faltering for half a second before continuing on.

“No way, really?”

And so you talk for the next 20 minutes about said games; reliving memories, talking about specific moments you wish you could experience again, the soundtracks, the characters. Everything.

For the first 10 minutes, Donnie kept reminding himself that he was just prolonging his work call, that he should drive the focus back onto your issue so he can hang up and clock out. But the more he talked to you, the more he said ‘fuck it’ and allowed himself this one rare moment of normalcy.

He also nearly forgot about his raging migraine, until it pleasantly reminded him that it was still present with a sharp stabbing pain behind his eyes.

It’s what snaps him back to reality, his face grimacing from the white hot torment happening in his skull.

“I’m so sorry, we should really get back to your computers issues.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

God, why did he feel so awful saying that? And why did it make his stomach twist when hearing just how disappointed you sounded? It’s something he’ll have to dissect later, not when he’s already 30 minutes past the standard call time for support.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

This is one of the rare times Donnie wishes he wasn’t so smart with technology because in less than 5 minutes he solves your problem. He wishes he could just be a little average to talk to you more even if it’s computer stuff.

“Alright, you shouldn’t have a problem anymore. Anything else I can help you with?”

Please say yes please say yes please say yes.

“No, I’m all good. Thank so much Donatello!”

“Donnie! You can call me Donnie.”

Fuck.

“Just your friendly I.T tech support here to help you 24 hours a day.”

Double fuck.

Why did he say that? It’s standard spiel protocol but still, how utterly lame…

You can’t help but giggle at him, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much from this total stranger.

“Alright then, Donnie. I’ll know who to ask for if I ever need help again.”

He smiles and asks for your name, just so he’ll know who he’s talking to if you ever do call again. He repeats it back to you once you tell him, the word rolling off his tongue in such a way that makes you feel giddy and grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“Have a good night, please don’t hesitate to call back if you’re still experiencing technical difficulties.”

And by Darwin he hopes you do.

[lostintransist]

Liasion - Chapter 1 - Personality Hire

This is cross posted from AO3, linked below and up to chapter 22 as of this posting. These guys make me fucking feral and I just sometimes can't help myself but to post a whole long ass story.

“You’ve reached the liaison for the 141, how can I help you?” You stare deeply into the eyes of the man sitting on your desk’s edge.

“I am trying to reach Captain Price,” a gruff voice slides into your ear from your headphones.

“Price is currently unavailable, may I ask who is speaking?”

“Hmph. This is General Sullivan of the United States Army. Who is it I am speaking with?” His voice got rougher over the line. Transatlantic calls shouldn’t have many issues any more due to satellites.

“Ah, General Sullivan it is good to hear from you. I have been working with your staffers to schedule a call with Captain Price. He is still unavailable but I can get you on a call with him at the soonest opportunity. What time zone are you in?”

“Eastern, why does that matter?”

You could hear the urge for him to call you a little girl in his snarled question.

“Well, seeing as we are currently five hours ahead of you it does make timing a bit tricky. If you are available at 6 PM EST tonight I can get you on a call with him.” Opening your scheduling app you quickly fill in all the information Price would need for this call.

You had been in contact with the General’s team for over a week trying to schedule a call. The man on the other end of the line seemed to have an inflated sense of self-importance and his team refused to schedule an appointment. You were used to it at this point, everyone from senators to magistrates, and even generals had issues accepting that you would not just ‘patch them through’.

Silence reigned on the other end of the phone call.

“You’re just a glorified receptionist, why do I need to make an appointment?” General Sullivan spat into the phone.

You recoiled from the nasty tone. A grin spread across your face.

“Why? Because I am the gatekeeper to the 141 and I have carte blanche to never let you talk to anyone on the team if I so desire. I can put a note in the file that reads ‘Never accept assignments’ followed by your name General. Now since I am the only one who can let you through to speak to Captain Price, does 6 PM Eastern Standard Time work for you tonight, sir?” The sir comes out in as disrespectful a tone as you can manage.

“Fine,” comes the begrudging acknowledgment.

You switch to your bright happy customer service voice, “Thank you, General. Now if you want future calls to go better you can tell Todd that he can schedule appointments with me moving forward. Have a day!”

Ending the call with a tap you let your face drop and roll your eyes.

“An American, how interesting. How did you end up working with the 141?”

Phillip Graves, leader of the Shadow Company, is sitting on the edge of your desk. His accent marks him as an American as well.

You blink up at him and deadpan your response.

“I was a personality hire.”

Roach, who sat a few desks away working on a report, can’t suppress his laugh. Graves shoots the man a look. You doubt he has ever heard Roach even speak. Better to pull the heat off Roach; you pull the attention back to yourself.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Graves?”

“I need to speak to Sheppard, but while I wait, I am deeply interested in what kind of personality hire tells off a US General,” he shifts, turning his body more towards you.

“Well Mr. Graves the long and short of the matter is I called at least five members of the 141 a bitch to their face within a minutes of meeting them and then they watched me talk my way out of a ticket and offered me a job. So I guess the personality trait they wanted was caustic.”

It hadn’t been that simple. The team had been in Baltimore for a convention when they got tapped to help deal with a school shooter situation at one of the local colleges. It had been complicated by the fact that there were bombs placed in several buildings by an unrelated political group trying to make a point.

You had met and called a bitch in order, Roach, Ghost, Price, Soap, and Kate. The men had been trying to evacuate you and through the hangover rocking your world, you just didn’t have enough fucks to give about the guns strapped to their bodies or the imposing presence most of them gave off.

Kate had been special, she had gotten caught in the crossfire of you telling a police officer that his qualified immunity wouldn’t save him from getting dildos delivered to his desk and home if he put you in cuffs. You weren’t sure how you came up in conversation afterward but within a few weeks, you had a job offer to come work as a liaison with the 141. Your degree in communications and minor in political science would come in handy. Nothing much held you to Maryland and a change of pace sounded interesting. You were able to test out of a few classes and take the final early for one to complete your degree before you hopped on the flight to London.

Gaz had been the one to wait for you at the airport. He was home, recovering from a nasty wound to the leg. He introduced you to the support staff in the office and set you up with your work phone and computer.

Kate had been your main go-to for questions until the team arrived home. Kate’s job involved keeping the guys safe on jobs and your job was to help filter out the jobs that they couldn’t or wouldn’t take. You still weren’t sure what Kate’s actual job title was or how she fit in but even Price seemed willing to bend the knee to her advice.

Glancing at your phone you note the time, nearly four PM.

“You’re in luck Mr. Graves. Sheppard put you on the schedule personally and should be here any minute to meet with you. Now if you will excuse me I am going to make myself a coffee and head home for the day.” Standing you stretch, back popping as you reach high.

“Calling it an early day for the weekend?” Graves joked.

You stare at him a beat longer than socially acceptable.

“No, I started my day at four AM and I have a personal rule to not work longer than twelve hours at a time. No salary is worth more than that.”

Shoving the work phone in your backpack and setting your headphones into the top drawer of your desk you leave the charming smile on your desk for Sheppard to deal with. Being American didn’t mean you wanted to grab a drink with the man. If anything, you had found that American men in the UK needed to be treated with double the amount of caution as men in general.

You stare blearily at the single-cup coffee brewer you had bought to get you through the workday. Once the machine stopped gurgling you cleaned the grounds out, added creamer to your travel mug, and left the office with a wave to old man Harold who was the actual receptionist for the 141. This first month of work had been harder than you could have expected.

Masterlist

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 4

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

Eddie hadn’t skimped on ‘personal’ items. His bags were full to the brim, not of things for him to wear, but of other people’s clothes. Other people’s things.

He had sweatshirts, he had shirts, he had an old pair of jeans, some hoodies, he had pillowcases and extra blankets to throw over the scentless nest building ones provided.

He was prepared to fill his nest with comforting scents. Yet there wasn’t a single alpha scent among them.

Steve felt… comfortable there. He wasn’t intruding on anyone’s rightful place, the alpha in him felt like it belonged in that spot when Eddie finally decided he’d had enough of layering hoodies and shirts generously donated by his bandmates and friends and settled himself back next to Steve, laying in that spot where he’d just taken a momentary break, hands tired.

So it was kind of a surprise when Eddie came out, after a moments silence, with “I’m missing something.” Like it wasn’t that big of a deal if he didn’t have it, but it wasn’t there, so he needed to make it known.

“I can have one of the staff call your emergency contact if you want, see if they can get it for you?” Robin would still be at the front desk, she wouldn’t mind.

“N-no… no i—I don’t think Wayne would be able to get what I need. It’s… dumb. It’s dumb, I don’t need it, it’s okay.” Steve shifted so he was on his side, elbow propping his face up as he looked down at the omega.

So, he was pretty. He was very pretty. He was a goddamn pretty omega at that angle, how had Steve just never noticed before?

Had he really been that blind in high school?

“Eddie… whatever it is, it’s not dumb, think of it like this… pregnant omegas will ask for the weirdest shit to eat, like… the weirdest combination of foods, apparently my mother? She always asked for Celery covered in Nutella, and tuna with beef pâté on this fancy herb bread my Nonna bakes” the expression, yeah Eddie was very cute. Too cute actually. “I mention this, because it’s important to cater to those weird requests, cause that’s your body basically asking for whatever nutrients comes from those things. That’s your body saying I need something that’s in those things, combine them for quicker consumption. It’s the same sort of concept, you’re in pre-heat, that little omega part of your brain is asking for something it needs, it’ll be stressed without it making this whole thing less effective. So what is it?”

Steve had done his training, he'd spent hours, weeks, months, years of his life learning this shit so he could be better, so he could help people like Eddie.

So he could be there for someone who needed him, because so few had needed him while growing up.

So he could tell that Eddie was obviously conflicted. Brows furrowed, his bottom lip captured between his teeth worrying at the plush skin reddening it and— okay stop focusing on his lips, Steve.

“You won’t judge me?” God could those eyes get any prettier? Any bigger? Any shinier?  

Steve just about managed to catch the little whine at the back of his throat, caught it before it escaped, critical hit right there. He needed to get himself under control. “Eddie…”

“You were such a judgy bitch in high school, Steve! You cant blame me for being hesitant now.”

“Okay. I’ll give you that.” He was judgemental. He and Robin had spent many hours judging people from the reception desk, never the Omegas but definitely random staff members or people who brought their family members in, those who were fair game basically “I can be judgemental, you’re right, it’s in my nature, but never here, you’re safe here, I swear.”

“So like… a customer service smile?”

Steve grinned, all teeth, eyes shining with amusement in a way that made Eddie feel good, it gave him fuzzies.

“Exactly like a customer service smile, only with you—” Steve had the audacity to boop his nose just to watch the adorable little scrunch it garnered. Eddie couldn’t even be mad, his whole being just kind of tingled at the minimal contact. An alpha touched him. He wanted more. Steve was right next to him, close enough to curl into, that broad chest of his close enough to burrow into and snooze for a while. “I mean it.”

So he did just that. He rolled inwards. Decided Steve’s chest was exactly where he wanted to be and if Steve let him, which he did, the alpha merely letting out a soft, surprised sound, before wrapping an arm around Eddie’s body to hold him there, Eddie would stay. Comfortable. Practically purring in contentment.

He had the best alpha in his nest. He was going to enjoy it dammit!

“I’ve… never had anything of an alpha’s in my nest” he finally admitted into the soft fabric of Steve’s shirt. It made sense. He’d never had an alpha in his life, of course he wouldn’t have had anything of an alpha’s in his nest. “I was just—I just thought that maybe… it’s stupid but—maybe you’d give me something?”

It must have been the right thing to say, because the sweetest smell of cinnamon buns, toasted marshmallows, and the most delightful rumble of a sound seemed to just burst from Steve’s whole being.

The Alpha was pleased. His Alpha. His. Steve was his now. No returns.

Steve squeezed him. Squished him into his chest in a hug. His Alpha was damn near euphoric, it was the right thing to say, right thing to do, and it got him a wonderful hug too. God, Steve had such perfect arms. Perfect chest too, Eddie just wanted to bury his face between those pectorals and stay there.

Which was good because Steve didn’t seem to be keen on letting him go. Good.

“Anything” Steve answered him, tilting his head down to press his face into all those fluffy curls and just breathe. The Omega in his arms crooning softly in delight “I’d give you anything, Eddie… anything you want, it’s yours.”

Steve. He wanted Steve. It felt like such a good time to ask too. Anything, Steve said anything, and Eddie was an opportunistic little shit when he wanted to be, he could ask for anything and Steve would give it to him. Was this what it felt like to be wanted by an alpha? To feel his whole body alight with warmth? It wasn’t even sexual, he just… he felt good.

An immense amount of pleasure that had nothing to do with sex, it was just… like he’d found his spot and didn’t have to leave it. Home. He’d found home.

“Then… can I have you?”

Part 6

[shina913]

I wish you would write a fic where....reader is going to get a pedicure but her normal nail tech is out, and the owner's cute son (you pick the member) who's back in town volunteers to do reader's appointment. (hehehe)

Jess!!! I did it 🤣 I didn’t think I could but I actually had a lot of fun with this! Thank you for this ask. I hope I did it justice 💜

******

Self-Care Sunday | JJK

Pairing: NailTech!Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Meet cute; fluff

Warnings: Some naughty thoughts but nothing explicit; slight references to gender stereotypes and occupations

Word count: 3k+words

Summary: You arrive at your mani-pedi appointment to find out that your usual technician is unexpectedly out. Instead, the salon owner’s son offers to do your nails instead.

A/N: Just for fun! Also, I was too impatient and wanted to actually post on a Sunday, which is why I didn’t have time to find a proper banner image for this. I’ll fix that tomorrow 😅 Thank you @midnightagust for your eyes 🥰 hope you all enjoy this!

Every weekend, you make a point to treat yourself to some form of pampering. Whether you went out to get your hair done or simply curled up on your couch to enjoy a book, ‘Self-Care Sunday’ was a big deal for you. It was a way to reset and prepare for the week ahead.

This weekend, you’re going for a mani-pedi. You walk into the nail salon about five minutes before your appointment time.

The small reception booth in front is empty, but the rest of the ladies who are busy with customers pause to greet you since you’re a regular. You begin to scan the room for your usual manicurist, hoping to check in and get set up.

Oddly, she’s nowhere in sight so you ask one of the ladies closest to you, who was giving a pedicure to another client.

“Annie just left. She said she was feeling sick,” she says to you.

“Oh no.” You look around again to see that everyone else is tending to their own clients. There’s no way any of these ladies would be able to take you on this morning. You’re disappointed but it’s not the end of the world. “I guess I could just reschedule my appointment–”

“No, hun, you don’t have to! It’s why she didn’t call to cancel. Our manager will take care of you.”

The salon’s manager, Lily, wasn’t afraid to jump in to help out whenever it was busy. It was a small comfort to know that the day wasn’t going to be a complete waste and you knew that you were in good hands.

The nail technician points to the vacant spa chair next to her and you help yourself. She pauses her work to fill the basin with warm water so you can soak your feet in while waiting for the manager.

“He’ll be right out, okay?” She says with a smile before turning back to her client.

Your eyebrows scrunch in curiosity. You could have sworn she said 'he,' but maybe you were hearing things. You dismiss the thought and activate the massage function on your chair, then start scrolling through your phone while waiting.

A few minutes later, you notice movement in your peripheral vision. As the figure settles on the low stool in front of you, you raise your head to greet them. Your voice gets caught in your throat when you realize that it isn't Lily.

"Hi!"

You’re stunned at the sight of a man sitting in front of you. He looks young and devastatingly hot. You would never expect to see someone who looked like him at a nail salon, let alone working at one. His big, round, beautiful eyes make you want to melt into the water your feet were soaking in.

“Uhm…h-hi,” you choke out once your brain lurches back to life. “I thought the manager was going to do my mani-pedi.”

He grins proudly, spreading a towel on the footrest of the spa chair. "Yep! You're looking at him!"

You feel confused. Did Lily quit or hire someone new? It’s been three weeks since your last appointment. In the background, you hear the other nail technicians giggling amongst themselves.

Seeing the worried look on your face, he explains, "My mom is taking a break, so I'm filling in for her."

You vaguely remember Lily mentioning her children in passing. Since she looks relatively young for her age, she’s always said that people are shocked to hear when she tells them that she has a grown son.

Well, consider yourself shaken to the core.

"I'm Jungkook, by the way," he extends his hand towards you. You're both baffled and overwhelmed by how handsome he looks. The massage chair's tapping setting propels you forward, snapping you out of your daze.

You reach forward to shake his hand and introduce yourself. Although he has a firm grip, his hands are surprisingly soft, sending a chill down your spine.

“When Annie said that she wasn’t feeling well, I offered to take the rest of her appointments for the day,” he divulges.

You look at him skeptically. You’ve never received a manicure and pedicure from a male technician before—especially not from one who was this cute.

He chuckles. "I know, I know. You're probably thinking, 'Does this guy even know what the hell he's doing?' Well, let me assure you that my mom personally trained me. If she's ever worked on you, you can expect the same level of quality from me. But I understand if you feel uneasy. The last thing I want is for a client to feel that way.”

You’re still apprehensive but he sounds confident. You get a grip and nod, giving him consent to continue with the appointment.

“Thanks,” he says softly and with a look of relief. “You booked a deluxe pedicure and manicure, right?”

The deluxe mani-pedi comes with a longer-than-usual massage on your hands and feet. Thinking about this man's hands kneading your tired muscles makes you sweat.

“Y-yes, I did,” you nervously confirm.

He nods in acknowledgment, and you gulp as he begins to dip the pumice sponge into the basin to scrub your heels. He’s careful and gentle with each pass, totally unlike what you’ve been used to. It’s a stark contrast to these ladies, who have manhandled you in surprising ways—especially the petite, older techs. They’re still sweet, though, and they do a great job, but you admit that this is a nice change of pace.

The rest of your pedicure prep goes smoothly until it was time for the massage.

He drains the water from the basin then he props your feet on the footrest. The stool is too low for his frame but he doesn’t complain. He’d rather make the adjustment so you wouldn’t have to bend awkwardly from your seat.

After drying your feet with a towel, he squeezes some lotion into his hands and starts massaging it into your calf muscles. Typically, some ladies prefer to keep their gloves on for sanitary purposes, but Jungkook has taken off his gloves just before the massage. You figured he was the manager on duty, so he could do whatever he wanted. And not that you had any objections, as the skin-on-skin contact feels nice. Better, actually.

You don't know why, but your gaze is drawn to his thighs, which are spread widely in front of you. It's incredibly distracting and you struggle to look away. You wonder if the awkward positioning of his knees against the spa chair is causing him to sit like that, or if there is something else between his legs that he's trying to adjust for.

“Is the pressure okay?” His question pulls you back into reality.

"What? Oh, yeah. It's good. It's fine," you manage to cobble together. His touch is firm, yet gentle enough to be relaxing. Silently, you think, if he was this good with your legs, how would his hands feel on the rest of your body?

"Are you sure? I could apply more, if you prefer. I always try to start off slow, but I can go deeper, depending on how you like it."

You grip the chair's armrests in response as your mouth goes dry. "N-no, you don’t need to go deeper. What you're doing is...great.” Your voice comes out breathy, but in an effort to distract yourself, you dig your phone out of your purse and start randomly scrolling through your social media feed. Now was not the time to be getting horny over your nail technician.

He suppresses a smile at your response. "Okay then.”

******

You manage to survive the rest of the pedicure without any additional incidents, much to your relief. He slips your sandals back onto your feet with ease, without smudging your freshly painted toes, and helps you over to the manicure table.

Once you settle in your seat, you rest your hands on the cushion and dip them into a cuticle-softening solution while he sets up the rest of his tools. While waiting for your fingers to soak up the solution, he checks in with you.

“Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“I’m good right now, thanks.”

"Okay.” Then, he leans in, lowers his voice, and asks, “How do you think I’m doing so far?"

You smile warmly at him. "I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised." Your toes didn't look streaky, nor did he get polish on your skin. You were impressed!

Your response makes him smile from ear to ear, his nose crinkling in amusement.

"Thanks. I know most women think it's weird to get a mani-pedi from a dude."

You sigh and decide to fess up. He seemed self-aware and appreciated honesty. "Well, I have to be honest—I was definitely apprehensive at first," you admit then follow it with a shrug. "But then I thought, hey, it's a job. If you can do it and have the skills for it? Why not? It shouldn't be restricted by gender."

His brow arches at your remark. "My thoughts exactly!" He agrees emphatically.

You feel another spark of electricity surge through you as he lifts your hand. You watch as he examines your fingers under the light.

“Mm…nice, long, nail beds.” His compliment followed but his thumb brushing over your fingers makes your belly flutter.

“But I bet you probably get that a lot,” he adds with a laugh.

“Not as often as you think,” you say. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was coming onto you.

“Just a regular manicure, right? Not gel?”

“Yeah. I thought, if I got the gel, I can’t get the usual hand massage—”

“I can still give you the massage,” he interjects.

“Oh. But what about the oils? I thought it’s not good for the gel base?” You hesitate.

He shrugs as if it's a non-factor. "I can do the massage after I cure your nails under the light. That way, the polish adheres nicely and it’ll be all set. But if you still prefer a regular manicure, that's fine—we’ll do that. I just want you to know that you have the option," he assures you.

You purse your lips to think for a few seconds. “Well, if you’re sure the massage won’t mess with the gel—”

“It won’t, I promise!” He says confidently. “My mom’s old school and she’d never do it that way but I think that you can still make it work.” After he says it out loud, one of the female technicians next to him scoffs. Seems like she prefers the standard method, too.

Jungkook rolls his eyes subtly at her reaction and turns his attention back to you. “If you don’t like it, I’ll give you your money back.”

That sounded fair to you.

“Alright. I trust you.”

After you decide on gel polish colors, he begins to trim your cuticles and file your nails. But just when you thought you could easily survive the pedicure, him being this close, and at eye-level, was going to be an uphill battle. He looks so focused and precise in his movements; it’s relaxing to watch. Even the little pout he does while maneuvering your finger to apply the polish with the utmost precision to cover every surface of your nail is cute.

You make small talk while he works. Not the usual gossip that you’re used to with the female technicians. You feel comfortable around him but not enough to spill all of your secrets.

“So, are you doing this full-time?”

“No,” he answers before he guides your hand into the curing lamp. “I have a day job but I mostly work from home. My mom said that needed help and I didn’t hesitate to step up. She works very hard.”

Oh no…he’s not only cute but he also loves his mom. You can’t help but feel endeared. You also note that he doesn’t have a ring on his finger. Lily hasn’t mentioned any daughters-in-law, that you recall.

You decide to sound casual to break the tension a bit. “This job must be a great way to pick up women, too, huh?”

He pauses before meeting your gaze. The corner of his mouth curves into a cocky smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Your cheeks heat up. You immediately realize that your comment may have crossed a line, thinking you were at that level of comfort with him just because he touched your bare feet. You kick yourself internally for being presumptuous.

“S-sorry,” you shyly tear your eyes away from him. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

He brushes off the exchange. “It’s cool. Honestly, there aren’t many women falling over themselves to go out with a male nail technician,” he says in jest. “Some people have specific perceptions. They’re usually wrong but I don’t bother to correct them.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel bad as you’d made assumptions about him too. “I mean, I think you have a lot of patience to be working on nails. Not to mention that you’re a handsome guy who gives great foot massages. I don’t see why any woman wouldn’t want to get more of that.” You catch yourself too late when you realize what you’ve just said.

He snorts your comment but doesn’t pile on it. “You’d think, right?”

You clear your throat and attempt to recover. “Well, you’re also easy to talk to. You keep the conversation flowing.” Your voice is still tight, embarrassed from your ‘cute guy who gives great foot massages’ comment.

“I appreciate that,” he smiles. He examines your nails, one last time, running the pads of his fingers over the polish to make sure that it has set properly. When he’s satisfied, he says, “Looks good. I’ll be right back, okay? Then we can get to your hand massage.” He excuses himself and gathers his tools to soak them in a cleaning solution.

When he walks away and disappears into the back room, you release a breath you seemed to be holding in for far too long. You’d never been this wound up during a mani-pedi.

A few minutes later, he returns and sets a warm towel down. He then moves the magnifying lamp out of the way, giving you a complete and unobstructed view of him. Unfortunately, this doesn't bode well for you.

“So, do you have any plans after this?” He asks casually while massaging circles into your forearms.

You’re all flustered again. “Not much. Maybe I’ll grab some mid-day coffee or something then head home.”

“Nice. Where do you grab coffee?” The feel of him dragging the pads of his fingers on your slicked skin, couple with his piercing gaze are causing your breathing to go ragged again. Suddenly, your brain blanks out on where your favorite coffee spot is.

“Just, uhm—” you struggle to pull the name out of your memory at first but manage to blurt it out when he squeezes your fingers. “It’s not far from here.”

“Oh. I don’t live in this neighborhood so I’m not familiar.” His thumb and forefinger knead your muscles in a way that should normally not feel arousing to you, but it does. And you can’t help when your thoughts slide back into wondering what else those magic fingers can do.

“I figured, if I was going to be helping out here more, maybe I should get to know the area– especially places to eat. You think you can you give me directions to the cafe?”

You shift in your seat. “Well, it’s sort of a hole-in-the-wall place. The GPS is kind of spotty on it. You have to be a local to really know where it’s at.”

“Well, my break’s coming up after this. Maybe we can drive together?”

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize it. He's not stupid, and you were right – he's definitely self-aware. He knows that you're affected by him. Smiling to yourself, you’re happy to let him know that the feeling is mutual.

Your eyebrows twitch at how forward he’s being. “A break? But it’s only 11:30?” You laugh.

“What can I say? I think I worked you really hard–”

His response makes your eyes bulge and causes your jaw to drop.

“Oh, sorry–I meant to say, you worked me really hard.”

You throw your head back in laughter, and it makes him laugh out loud, too. He was a cocky little shit but you’re not mad at it.

When your laughs die down, he says, “I think we can both agree that we did our best to fight this–” he gestures at the space between you two.

“Oh, is that right?” You ask playfully.

"Yeah. I think we deserve a little treat. Maybe grab some lunch, wherever you want." You’re mildly aware that the massage is over but his fingers are still lingering on your hands while he patiently waits for your answer.

This is one of the most unusual ways you've been asked out, but there's a first time for everything. After thinking it over, you decide to give it a chance. "Okay. But if I agree to go to lunch with you, do I still need to tip you for the mani-pedi?”

He purses his lips in thought for a few seconds before countering. "Tell you what—if you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night, the service is on the house. We can call it even then.”

His playful proposition catches you off guard but it also intrigues you. Again, you find yourself unable to resist his charm.

“Alright.”

Your response makes him smile full-on and it’s infectious, so you can’t help but smile back. He starts to clean up his station, then turns to the older nail technician next to him who saw the whole situation unfold.

“Auntie, please don’t tell my mom,” he whispers mischievously, causing her to laugh after she agrees not to rat him out.

You giggle at his request and tell him, “I guess I’ll meet you out front whenever you’re ready?”

“Sounds good. We’ll take my car so we don’t ruin my masterpiece there,” he points at your hands.

You laugh at his retort and shake your head. Never in a million years did you ever think that you’d find a date a the nail salon. It’s one of the better things to come out of your Self-Care Sundays.

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

[jungshookz]

just a small compilation of yoongi and y/n being platonic soul mates

➺ pairing; lveb!yoongi x lveb!y/n pre-namjoon (sorry namjoon u r not a part of this) 

➺ genre; so much friendship fluff i love platonic love so much 

➺ wordcount; 2.8k

➺ summary; yoongi and y/n love and care about each other very much but they’ll never actually say it outright bc real friends never do that! yoongi loves y/n a lot and y/n loves yoongi a lot and to be honest I AM JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!

➺ what to expect; “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; how sweet it is (to be loved by you) — james taylor 

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

yoongi and y/n get drunk and discuss very important things 

“ah…” you suck in an air of breath through your teeth, patting your chest a few times as the whiskey trickles down your throat

you’re not much of a drinker but yoongi insisted that this was the best whiskey he’d ever had and the only reason why you agreed was because he said if you mixed it with apple juice, it’d just taste like apple juice with a spicier kick 

“you are such a baby.” yoongi snorts, downing the rest of his glass before setting it down on the table, “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

“i do…” you shake your head, leaning back against the couch, “i don’t, but i also do.”

it’s not often that the two of you spend a sunday evening getting drunk in your apartment but you’ve had a rough week with the business (you’ve had to deal with many, many impatient and annoying customers this week) and yoongi just hasn’t drank in a long time and he recently got paid so why not spend it on some good quality alcohol?? 

“we should play a game or something.” yoongi turns and leans back against the arm of the couch before kicking his legs up onto your lap, “we should do something while waiting for the pizza, otherwise we’re both going to fall asleep.” 

“a game?”

“a game.” yoongi nods, reaching over to crack open the fresh bottle of jameson whiskey (surprisingly smooth, actually. and you do taste the alcohol but you quite like it with the apple juice), “what do drunk people talk about?” 

“they don’t talk. they call their exes.” you joke, yoongi rolling his eyes at your teasing smile

“for your information, i only did it one time. and she didn’t even pick up, so i just left a voicemail. and i don’t even remember what i said in the voicemail.” 

“one time too many.” your eyes widen a little at the reminder of that chaotic night that involved you chasing yoongi around the street trying to get him to give you his phone but his legs are longer and he’s very speedy when he’s drunk so it took you a while until you finally managed to pry his phone from his clammy hands 

love really does make people crazy 

“what’s your biggest fear?” you ask, turning to look at him 

“oh, we’re going to be that type of drunk tonight, are we?” yoongi snorts, reaching up to scratch the side of his nose before pursing his lips in thought and looking up at the ceiling, “probably that i’ll never be good enough in all aspects of my life, but to be honest, mostly when it comes to any romantic stuff. i’m terrified that i’ll try my best with someone and that my best still won’t be good enough for them, and i know i shouldn’t be so dependent on what someone else thinks about me, but if i was dating someone and i felt like i wasn’t good enough for them and then they told me to my face that i wasn’t good enough for them, that would probably send me into the biggest depression spiral i’ve ever had in my entire life. what about you?” 

yoongi looks back down at you to see that you’re staring at him with wide eyes before you reach over to pour some more whiskey into his glass, picking it up and holding it out for him to take 

“…flying cockroaches.” 

“that’s valid.” 

y/n keeps (choosing) to make the same mistake and yoongi’s kinda over it 

“you know, i was just doing some thinking when i was getting the ice cream and i don’t understand,” yoongi shuts the front door behind him before kicking his sneakers off, leaning against the wall with one hand, “didn’t you guys end things, like, a year ago?”

“he reached out in february n we’ve been seeing each other since then…” you sniffle, wiping at your red eyes as you look at him from your curled-up position on the couch, “…didn’t tell you because- i know how you feel about him-“

“he’s a fucking dickhead, that’s how i feel about him. he’s a walking red flag in a very concerning way- like, i have some red flags but they’re the ones that make me seem hot and mysterious, not the ones that make people wonder if i’m a narcissistic sociopath- also, are you telling me you’ve been secretly dating this man for the last-“ yoongi pauses, counting the months on his hands before his eyes widen slightly, “holy shit, you’ve been hiding this from me for the last eight months?” 

you press your lips together as you avert your gaze sheepishly, “…yeah. i’m sorry…” 

“well, what happened this time? why’d you guys break things off?” yoongi plops himself down on the couch next to you, pulling the two pints of ice cream and the cheap wooden spoons out of the thin plastic bag

“he- he was kind of seeing other people at the same time because we never made things exclusive-“

“well, were you seeing anyone else?” 

“no- and… he told me that i wasn’t allowed to see anyone else but he was- so- so basically he started dating-“

“ah, ah-“ yoongi holds the wooden spoon up to shut you up before letting out a laugh, “i’m gonna be so real with you, i don’t feel any sympathy for you at all.”

“i’m not asking for sympathy-“ your voice wavers slightly (you were definitely asking for sympathy and also you fully expected yoongi to come in here and just validate all of your feelings but to be fair you’d probably also feel some type of way if you found out he’d been lying to you for the past eight months of your friendship), “i’m just… sad…” 

“gee whiz, you’re sad because you made a choice to reunite with a known horrible human being!” yoongi exclaims sarcastically, peeling the lid off of the first pint while he shakes his head, “you have to take some accountability here, y/n. it’s not that he forced you to be in this weird relationship with him- and you know, i get it, when you’re reunited with an ex, old feelings come up and yada yada, but you already know the type of person shownu is, so i don’t really know why you’re surprised that being involved with him ended up with you needing emergency pints of ice cream… again. i feel like we’ve had this conversation so many times. it’s getting boring!” 

“i don’t know, yoongi, i thought things would be different…” you mutter, picking at your cuticles, “i thought he’d changed-“

“people rarely change. small habits, maybe, but people rarely change. and you have to take responsibility for the way that you let people treat you, too, because at some point it’s not just because oh yoongi, i was dumb, oh yoongi, i made a mistake, oh yoongi, he seemed so genuine when he was apologising to me — at some point you have to accept the fact that oh, yoongi, maybe i’m the one who has the power to not be crying over a piss-poor human being.” yoongi snaps, turning to look at you with a frown 

he only feels 1% bad when he sees chubby teardrops forming at your waterline and he lets out a quiet sigh before handing you your pint and a spoon, “you know i’m just saying all this shit because we’re friends and i care about you.”

“i know.” you sniffle, taking the pint from him delicately and scraping a little bit of ice cream off the top, “‘m sorry.” 

a moment of silence passes as yoongi gets comfortable with his own pint, his lips pursing as he looks back over at you in all your sad glory 

“i’m sorry things didn’t work out with him. i know you really liked him. but he’s genuinely a horrible person and in the long run, you’re going to be grateful you didn’t end up with someone like that.” he pokes you with his foot to get you to look up at him, “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.” 

yoongi’s really passionate about getting strangers to try y/n’s strawberry cinnamon buns 

“what the hell? these are so good. you should sell these. why don’t you sell these??“ yoongi sucks strawberry glaze off his thumb before his eyes widen, “you could really turn this into a business, you know.”

“i don’t know…” your cheeks flush a little as you wipe flour off the counter, giving him a little shrug, “don’t know if i’ll be successful…” 

you had some spare time today so you decided to whip up a batch of strawberry cinnamon buns (they’re just like regular cinnamon buns except you also add a homemade strawberry compote in the layers, no biggie) and yoongi came over just as they came out of the oven, so you offered him one and obviously he said yes because he’d be crazy to turn down a little treat 

“sure you’ll be successful. you’re really good at baking, and if you start now, you’ll at least have some sort of income after we graduate.” yoongi frowns, “you can’t talk about yourself like that. you have to, like, manifest your success and speak it into existence and all that shit-“ 

“maybe one day…” you purse your lips before offering him another shrug, “i dunno if people’ll like em.” 

“STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS! HOMEMADE STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS-“ that one day comes a lot sooner (as in, this is happening an hour after yoongi suggested you start your own business) and you can’t help but stand off to the side shyly as yoongi continues pushing for people to try your buns

“come on, give this a try and tell me they’re not the most incredible thing you’ve ever put in your mouth-“ yoongi hands someone a free sample in a paper cupcake liner and the stranger looks at it before holding it back for him to take

“this looks great, but i’m allergic to strawberries-“

“well, that’s what your epipen is for, pal-“ yoongi slaps him on the shoulder before pushing him aside and turning his attention to other people, “strawberry cinnamon buns! free samples of homemade strawberry cinnamon buns! get over here and put my friend’s buns in your mouth- oh.” he immediately stops, turning around to look at you, “so sorry, did not mean to sound like i was pimping you off-“ 

you shake your head with a giggle, watching fondly as yoongi spins back around and practically chases someone down to get them to take a free sample from him 

yoongi gets stood up and he’s never seen y/n so upset before 

“who did this to you.” 

yoongi looks up from where he’s sitting on the cobblestone steps to see you standing there, your eyebrows furrowed tightly and your lips set in a tight frown 

if he squints, he’d probably be able to see fumes coming off the top of your head by how upset you seem 

“took you long enough.” he jokes, getting up from his butt and picking up the bouquet of wilted flowers next to him 

he messaged you twenty minutes ago about the situation and you literally got here in warp speed 

“who did this to you?” you ask again, and yoongi shakes his head 

this night has been humiliating enough and he really does not want to go into further details 

“don’t worry about it.” he clears his throat, holding up the bouquet for you to take, “for you, madamoiselle.” 

“you didn’t tell me you were going on a date.” you take the bouquet, bringing it up to your nose for a little sniff before smiling lightly (you love tulips), “love tulips.”

“i know. and it was a second date, technically.” 

“second date??” you ask incredulously, shocked that yoongi hid not one but two important pieces of information from you, “when was the first date??” 

“i didn’t wanna talk about it… i… didn’t wanna get my hopes up in case things didn’t work out and obviously things haven’t worked out.” yoongi shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks alongside you, “whatever, it’s stupid. i hate dating apps.” 

you twist your lips in thought as comfortable silence washes over the two of you 

you know that he’ll probably want to talk about this later, but right now it seems like a bit of a sore spot so maybe you’ll bring in up in a week or so 

or you’ll just wait for him to bring it up to you 

“you hungry?” you loop your arm with his as the two of you walk slowly, and you perk up a little at the sight of a diner two blocks down (they have really good cheesecake there) 

“well, i was supposed to have dinner an hour and forty-five minutes ago, so i guess i’m a little hungry.” yoongi snorts, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk before letting out a huff, “i don’t know. i could eat.” 

“…tuna melt time?” you squeeze his arm and he lets out a loud groan almost immediately 

“oh my god, you are so gross, you know that??” yoongi shoves you off his arm playfully, “who in their right mind likes warm tuna and cheese- you’re basically eating, like, cat vomit-“ yoongi makes a face and you can’t help but laugh, feeling a little better now that you’ve seen him smile a little 

“tuna melt, tuna melt…” you sing softly, yoongi letting out another groan before shuddering

“this could actually be a dealbreaker in our friendship, i’m telling you- only sick freaks like tuna melts-“ 

“guess i’m the sickest freak around, baby-“ 

y/n picked a gross drink from starbucks and refuses to admit she doesn’t like it 

“i still don’t know why you decided to try that.” yoongi shakes his head, holding his wallet out for you to take so you can put it in your purse for him, “what is it again?”

“apple… cinnamon cold brew something?” you shrug, raising the cup for a quick glance before shrugging, “trying something new!” 

“we both know what happens whenever you try something new.” yoongi grumbles, taking a sip of his own iced americano, “you try it, you don’t like it, you refuse to admit you don’t like it, and somehow i’m the one who ends up having to finish whatever it is you picked for yourself because you decided you wanted to be spontaneous.”

“nuh-uh.” you frown, yoongi holding the door open for you as he rolls his eyes 

you can be such a baby when it comes to arguments like this — it’s like you never want to admit he’s right even though you know he’s right 

“nuh-uh-“ he mocks, barely avoiding your whack as the two of you walk side by side, “the pineapple-walnut scone from that gluten-free bakery, that weird alfredo-truffle-pesto pasta dish you ordered when we went to get italian on valentine’s day, that godawful cauliflower crust pizza you got for brunch one time-“ 

“but i like this drink!” you take a hearty sip before swallowing, your lips puckering for a second as your eye twitches and you immediately stop walking to look at the drink

…perhaps the barista was having an off day but there’s something a lil funky going on in your mouth right now 

“oh my god, i fucking knew it-“ yoongi groans, his shoulder slumping as he looks at you with a raised brow, “who in their right mind would order an apple cinnamon cold brew something-“

“it’s not bad!” you insist, bringing it up to your lips for another sip, your other eye twitching now as you swallow thickly 

oh dear god 

is it supposed to be chunky?? are drinks normally chunky like this??? 

“just give it to me.” yoongi gives you a deadpan expression as he holds his iced americano for you to take, “take mine.” 

“no, no-“

“y/n y/l/n, give me your godawful drink right now-“ 

“are you sure?”

“are you sure?” yoongi mocks again, tsking at you when you take his drink from him and he takes your drink from you, “i knew this was gonna happen, and i still let you order your own drink… the next time we’re at starbucks, i’m ordering for you-“ 

🎙️ ask y/n for her strawberry cinnamon bun recipe (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ambivalent Days

Jim Halpert x Trans Man Reader (PART TWO) Can be read alone, but I do reference part one, so read that HERE if you want to be caught up!

Summary: You’ve finally come out as trans to the entire office. It’s gone a lot better than expected. But now you’re faced with a serious problem- or rather, a serious crush. On none other than Jim Halpert, leading supporter of your transitions and quickly becoming your best friend in the office. But are you willing to risk that friendship just for some silly little feelings?

Tags: FtM!reader, Gay!Jim (for narrative reasons, I think i wanted him to be bi in the first part but switched it around, whatever), implied gay!reader (all i said was ‘not straight’), trans supporter Dwight, peacekeeper!Pam, supportive!Kelly Kapoor, bisexual!Kelly, drinking in moderation, happy ending Warnings: Michael being absolutely ridiculous and attention-hungry to the point that he does bad things (so, like, normal episode?), some general swearing

A/N: This has been requested so many times, both in asks and requests. I’ll try my best to tag everyone who asked for this, sorry if i forgot any! I was excited to write this because I loved the first part, but figuring out where to start was the trickiest part. I hope you all enjoy!  (this entire fic ended up just writing itself once i got going. I had no clue what i was gonna do until it happened so… enjoy lol)

Life was great, working as a Customer Service representative for Dunder Mifflin paper company. Wow, you never thought you’d say such a thing, but it really has become something appealing, something that had you smiling and willing to come to work every single day. Of course, it had its own ups and downs, times when you felt overwhelmed or frustrated at certain people. You still ended up enjoying the majority of the day, and sometimes the rough days turned out to end up better than the rest.

It had absolutely, wholeheartedly nothing to do with James Duncan Halpert, otherwise known to his work colleagues as ‘Jim.’ You continued to lie to yourself, nodding along to this thought process on your drive to work. It was rainy, just like most days, and you were bored out of your mind waiting in the traffic. You just enjoyed going to work, because… Because of all of your friends, that’s why! Sure, that might include Jim, but that also included Pam, and Oscar, and god forbid, even Dwight. He’s certainly grown on you over time, having completely accepted your identity, even defending you against anyone who said anything. You couldn’t be sure, but you suspected that Dwight had even lost a customer through those actions- but when Mr Dellicker had called for customer support and you had answered the phone, saying his name out loud, Kelly had rushed around the divider and ripped the phone from your hand, immediately transferring it to her own phone. You tried to listen in, curious why this was so important to her, but you kept hearing her say the same thing over and over.

“Thank you for your consideration, but we no longer want your business with us. I completely understand that you think so, but we no longer want your business with us. While that may or may not be true, this whole conversation is futile considering we no longer want your business with us.”

Mr Dellicker had become a hushed topic around you, but you had managed to catch a private whisper among your friends one day when he was brought up again. They’d ask Kelly if he had called yet, and she assured the situation was handled. Pam had whispered, “I can’t believe some people’s views on trans people. It makes no sense.” So, while it wasn’t likely due to you specifically, you were almost sure that you were the only trans person they knew. If they were defending trans people, they were defending you alongside it all.

You pulled into the parking lot finally, shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. Mr Dellicker’s whole deal had been a problem a month ago and was no longer an issue. You shouldn’t dwell on those thoughts, you weren’t likely to ever have to worry about it again. You managed to snag a semi-decent parking space. It was only the second from the front, but it happened to be right next to Michael’s own car, and as you placed your car into park, you glanced over to notice he was still sitting there. You tilted your head in confusion, watching for a moment.

You couldn’t tell if he was psyching himself up, or singing along to one of his weird songs. He seemed ready to open the door, then leaned back once more without actually doing it. He lowered the visor on his car, flipping open the little door to reveal his mirror and looking at himself in it. He continued, probably, speaking to himself, and you just shook your head and decided to leave it be. You reached for your suitcase and umbrella, then began making your way inside.

You were stuffing your umbrella into the little holder by the door after you entered the office, taking off your long overcoat and hanging it on the coat rack by Pam’s desk. She smiled, asking about what you did over the weekend, and you answered that you didn’t really do much besides binge the next season of your current obsession. You agreed to tell her about it later, moving toward the break room for your normal cup of tea. You pat Jim on the shoulder on the way, and he reaches up quickly to touch your hand before you slip by. It causes a smile to cross your face as you continue on your path, a happy feeling welling up inside.

“I. Am a girl.” You spin around quickly, eyes widening in fright. There stood Michael Scott, wearing a short, pleated pink skirt with his normal yellow button-down dress shirt, as well as a crooked ginger wig that he had most definitely not been wearing in his car. The room falls completely quiet, and you hear two people put their calls on hold. Jim stands, and you can’t see his face from this perspective, but you hear a hardness in his voice.

“Michael, this is not a funny joke-”

“It’s not a joke!” Michael yells out, crossing his arms. He purses his lips before speaking again in a higher tone. “I’m a girl, and so I decided to say it. That I am.” He looked around the room as if expecting something, but no one moved a muscle. Pam broke the silence, clearing her throat and talking in a tone that was both cautious and unbelieving.

“Alright, so what would you like us to call you, then?” Michael sputtered at the question, throwing his hands outward and looking around the room again. His eyes settle on me, and Jim sidesteps to block off his vision. You can no longer see Michael, but the image of him has burned into your mind anyway. You could feel yourself panicking, your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. This had to be a prank right? He was making fun of you? Now? After all this time?

“What do you mean- Y/N didn’t change his name when he came out!”

“This has nothing to do with Y/N,” Jim quickly tries to interrupt him after hearing your name, but you heard his sentence all the same. Jim walked closer to Michael, leaning down to whisper, but even you could still hear his words in the silence your boss caused. “How about we talk this out privately and continue this announcement later?”

“But-”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, Jim,” Pam calls out quickly, circling her desk and corralling Michael into his office. He was putting up a fight, but not much of one. Jim followed closely behind, closing the door behind him. You could see multiple faces turn to look at you- as their current entertainment had been dragged away- out of the corner of your eye, but you were still there, shell-shocked. Before you realized what you were doing, you were standing directly outside Michael’s office door, peeking around the side to look in through the window. You could hear them talking still, considering the rest of the office was waiting to see what you would do.

“No, no, no!” Michael yelled out, plopping down into his seat. “I’m serious about this you guys!”

“Alright, let’s assume you are,” Pam begins, but Jim looks at her with an aggravated look.

“Pam-”

“Let’s assume you are,” Pam repeats, pushing Jim away and leaning closer to Michael. “How did you come to this decision?”

“I-” Michael hesitates, looking at his computer, then back to Pam. “Well, I really like girls a lot.”

“Sure, sure, but sexuality and gender are different.”

“I know that, Pam! God!” Michael starts flipping random pens on his desk, trying to distract himself. “I just like their clothes a lot.”

“You like to wear the clothes, or see them on women?”

“See them-” He stops, looking up to her. “I mean, wear them! Yeah, that’s what it is!” His stuttering and determination caused Jim to huff in a humourless laugh, no longer just standing by.

“What’s really going on here Michael?”

“And,” Michael begins, ignoring Jim’s question, “What was that question about what I wanted to be called? Y/N didn’t change his name when he came out?”

“Sure,” Pam agrees, trying to maintain the peace, “But Michael isn’t a very feminine name. Doesn’t that make you feel a little, I don’t know, dysphoric?”

“What does that word mean?” Michael asks, causing Jim to huff again, moving forward to slam his hands onto the table.

“What is really going on here, Michael?”

“Fine!” Michael yelled out, throwing up his hands, his fake hair swinging around wildly. “I don’t think I’m a girl! I don’t like wearing dresses or skirts or-” He spits, swatting away the fake hair that had managed to catch itself in his mouth, “And I’m so uncomfortable in this,” He pulls the wig off finally, throwing it onto the ground. He stands next, reaching for the skirt he was wearing, “Or this-”

“No, no, no!” Pam calls out quickly, keeping him from ripping the skirt off in front of them. “I’ll fetch you your spare pair of pants here soon, it’s at the desk. Just,” She sighs, shaking her head, “What could’ve possibly made you think this was a good idea, Michael?”

“Well!” Michael huffs, pouting as he sits back down. “Y/N got all sorts of attention when he came out. He became cool, and popular, and now I’m not even allowed to make jokes about him! Everyone hates me now, he took my thunder!”

“You can still make jokes about him,” Pam continues cautiously, raising her hands up in a plea to calm him down. “Just, not about the fact that he’s trans.”

“My thunder Pam!”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jim begins, reaching forward and grabbing hold of Michael’s shirt. “That stunt you pulled was mean-spirited and heinous. Do you have any idea how you could’ve made Y/N feel? How hard it was for him, not only to accept himself for who he is but to become confident enough in himself to come out to the entire office? Do you realize how much you probably just put him back?” Michael’s face was terrified, and Pam was too stunned at this action to do anything at first. By the time Jim was done talking, she reached forward quickly and pulled him back.

“Jim, that’s unnecessary.”

“I feel it was completely necessary, Pam.”

“He doesn’t realize what he’s doing, he just wants attention.”

“He gets attention every single day Pam! He demands it, hell, he goes out into the office and-”

“Jim,” Pam interrupts, nodding toward Michael. You watch Michael visibly sniff, raising a hand to rub at his nose.

“No, no, he’s right. I’m a nuisance, everyone hates me.”

“No one hates you, Michael,” Pam starts, and Jim scoffs.

“You’re babying him.” She shoots him a threatening look, and he just shakes his head and crosses his arms. Pam moves closer to the desk, looking down at Michael.

“Hey,” When Michael looks up, his eyes are red and glossy. “What you did just now, was that a good idea?”

“No,” He whines out, drawing out the vowel.

“Good, that’s the correct answer. And why was it a bad idea, Michael?” He huffs again, moving to play with a different toy on his desk and avoiding her eyes.

“Because I lied for attention.”

“And?”

“Because I probably made Y/N feel bad. And Jim.”

“So what are you going to do?” Pam asks, and you can’t see her expression but Michael finally meets her eyes and breathes in a deep breath.

“I’m going to tell everyone that it was a horrible prank and that I’m sorry.”

Even Jim startles at this, both Pam and Jim- even you, yourself- having never actually heard Michael apologize for one of his many failed pranks or skits. Pam straightens up, glancing quickly at Jim before looking back. Her voice was full of surprise as she nods, “That’s right. That’s completely right, actually. Good job Michael.” You could see him smile before looking down at his lap, then back up at Pam.

“Can I do it after I change?”

“Of course,” Pam moves quickly to the door, and you don’t think fast enough to move out of the way. The door swings open wide and you are revealed to be standing there, right outside of it. All three occupants turn to look at you with varying expressions, but they all share a similar surprise. You swallow hard, locking your eyes with Michael. You are about to speak but can feel eyes digging into your back, so you take a few steps into the office, past your two friends.

“What you did just now,” You begin, sucking in another deep breath, “Was horrifying- for everyone involved. I’m sure we want to see you in a skirt just as much as you want to be in one.” You lean forward onto the desk, watching Michael shrink away from you. “But let me ask you, how does it feel to wear that skirt?”

“What?” He looks startled at the question, looking to Jim and Pam for help. None arrived for him.

“How does it feel, wearing that skirt? Why aren’t you wearing a blouse with it? Couldn’t find one that fit, or did it feel too uncomfortable? What about the hair?” You nod down to wear the wig laid on the ground. “Was it annoying? Kept getting caught in your mouth, right? Drooped in front of your face, obscuring your vision?” You leaned forward, your breath coming out harsher. “Imagine you had breasts attached to you- and push past your sexuality. Imagine you had them and they couldn’t be removed.” You whisper this last part, your own eyes tearing up. “How would you feel?’

You hear Jim say your name softly behind you, realizing what you were referencing. Michael shook his head for a few seconds before he stopped, widening his eyes. You nod, continuing your speech. “Yeah, exactly.” You lean back, picking your hands off of his desk to rest by your side. “That’s how I feel every single day. Or, did. Until I came out.” You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I became confident because I was finally comfortable with who I was. I’m sorry if you can’t find that confidence in yourself. But don’t try to steal mine. Don’t make a mockery of my struggles.” You turn, heading toward the door, toward your desk- to anywhere but here. But Michael’s voice stops you before you’re able to leave.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You turn, looking into his eyes. He seemed genuine, but you knew he didn’t really understand.

“Think about why you are. Then get back to me.”

You pushed your way past Pam, who stood in the doorway with shock and pain written across her face, and ignored Jim’s call of your name as you kept going. You wanted away from these stares, this was not what you meant by loving this damned office. You continued past the breakroom, ignoring your daily cup of tea. You enter into your side of the annexe, seeing Kelly on the phone and hearing a whispered but high-pitched, “What? No! He didn’t?” Before she suddenly looks up, widens her eyes, and quickly says, “Gotta go,” Before slamming the phone down. You sigh and walk around the divider, taking your seat.

Kelly has more social sense than most people in the office, you’ve come to realize. It was why she had applied for customer service- unlike you, who had just taken up an ad from the newspaper. So, she knew better than to try to ask you what happened. She remained quiet on her side of the partition, something that was extremely odd, and it almost felt like you were in your own little world, in your tiny corner. Your desk was pressed against two walls, and the partition blocked the other two sides except for the small gap for your entrance. The partition walls weren’t very high, but sitting down they reached above your head. You felt isolated- something you first loved, then hated, and now feel grateful for once again. It gives you time and privacy to calm down.

After some time, you hear a throat clear nearby, and Kelly’s chair roll as she likely stands to leave. You look up at the top of your divider, waiting for a face to come into view. Luckily, it’s Jim’s face. He smiles softly at you, and you can tell he’s trying to keep the pity from his face, but it's not working very well.

“You didn’t make your tea?” He raises a cup- your favourite cup, no less, that no one else has used since your incident with Dwight- and offers it to you. “I figured I’d make you some. Can’t go a day without your tea, right?” You can tell he was trying, and it warmed something inside of you. Trying for a smile, you reach out to take the cup, taking a sip. It was made perfectly.

“I’m sorry about that,” You begin, sighing and placing the cup aside. “I kinda went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Not at all,” Jim rushes to comfort you, circling the divider completely to be inside your little cube. He rests himself against your desk, looking down at you with earnest eyes. “If anyone was overboard, it was Michael.” You just shrug, looking away.

“I mean, what did I expect, really? Everyone in the office has been so good about the whole thing. Ever since I’ve come out, it's been nothing but positivity.” You bite your lip, shrugging. “This office isn’t exactly a positivity-friendly environment.”

“You being trans should have no bearing on your workplace,” Jim insists, leaning forward toward you. “I know the world is fucked, but I want to make sure that at least your world isn’t.” You huff a laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh, c’mon Jim. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” You look up, meeting his eyes with a self-deprecating smile. “It’s not like it's because of you that all of this ended up so easy until now.” Jim’s eyes widen slightly, then wander away as he wiggles his head and bites his lip. You wait for him to agree, then narrow your eyes. “You… Didn’t tell everyone to be nice to me, did you?”

“Well,” He begins, drawing out the word and wincing. “I didn’t quite do that. But I did explain that they shouldn’t act any different, what jokes they shouldn’t make about it, and to look something up before asking any questions. If they couldn’t find the answer online, then they could ask me, and then I would allow them to ask you.” You blink a few times, tilting your head.

“But no one ever asked me anything?” He nodded along, sucking his lips inside his mouth before popping them, sighing.

“Yep.”

“Did they have questions?”

“Oh,” Jim scoffs, laughing. “So many.” He places his hands between his knees, palms together. You couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Like what?” You feel curious but also dread at the prospect.

“Oh, y’know,” Jim shrugs, moving to mess with some pens on your desk idly, not meeting your eyes. “Just the usual dumbest shit on the planet. I told them all they were absolutely not allowed to ask you, of course, and had to explain why sometimes.” You nodded along, huffing out another laugh.

“I suddenly don’t want to know.”

“Oh, no, you really don’t.” You laugh softly along with him, feeling your chest bloom open, your crush developing further. For the second time today, you were moving before realizing you decided to. You stood, then reached forward and pulled Jim into a hug. He had straightened when he noticed you standing, then stood stiff as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You hesitated, about to pull away when Jim moved quickly, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in tighter. You relaxed once more, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes.

“Thank you, Jim,” You whisper, turning your nose to brush against his dress shirt. He smelled clean, with a hint of cologne that you couldn’t place. His arms were warm and strong- comforting in a way that you hadn’t felt in so long. He moved one of them up, cupping the back of your head as he straightened up more, pulling you in closer.

“It’s nothing,” Jim stutters out, and you can hear his heart beating under your ear. “Someone’s gotta make sure these folks don’t chase you away.” You laugh, leaning back to look him in the eye. He seems sincere, solemn, as he adds, “I think I would be devastated if you quit.” You chuckle once more, shaking your head as you pull away.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“No,” Jim lowers his head, trying to catch your eye once again. “I’m completely serious. You are probably the only reason I still show up.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m this old and stuck in this job?” You laugh along, shaking your head.

“You make good money here, Halpert, don’t deny it.” You feel slightly upset you had pulled away from the hug so soon, but you had to look at him after he said that. You had to see if he was serious- Jim is hardly ever serious, always joking around. It was part of the reason your crush developed so fast, and also why it’d always remain a secret. He was so funny, making you laugh constantly. But he was also a bit of a jokester, and you didn’t know if he had a serious bone in his body. Today was showing he certainly did.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it.

You both spend some more time chatting, and his presence is a balm that soothes your panicked heart. He tries his best to make you laugh- which you do, often- and you finish your morning cup of tea in the meantime. You were sure you could’ve talked to him forever if only your phone hadn’t rung. You shrug with helplessness, reminded that you’re technically at work and still have a job to do. You reach to pick up your phone, apologizing to Jim who waves you off. You watch him walk away as you answer the phone, “Dunder Mifflin paper company, customer service representative speaking.”

It ended up being a quick call, with someone complaining that their shipment was late. You only had to find their account to let them know that the delivery was scheduled for today and the time. Once you placed the phone back in its slot, you raised your cup to your mouth before remembering it was empty. ‘Eh, might as well,’ You think to yourself, pushing to stand and make your way to the breakroom. Kelly is back at her desk as you circle around, and you make sure to say a soft greeting to her to make up for your earlier rudeness. She says a polite and short greeting back with a gentle face, still conscious of your rough morning.

You’re about to pull the door to the breakroom open when you notice the back of Jim standing at the counter. He was hefting a freshly brewed pot of coffee, and you couldn’t help but stand there and watch his arm flex as he hefted it with no problem. You didn’t see the other door open, but suddenly Kevin was walking directly into Jim’s space.

“I have another question.” Jim sighs visibly, shaking his head.

“Haven’t I told you enough-”

“No, this is a different question, Jim!” Kevin seems adamant, and after Jim puts the coffee pot away he takes a side step to regain some personal space. “And you said yesterday there’s a limit of stupid questions I’m allowed to ask a day so I couldn’t ask yesterday!”

“You have until I finish making my coffee.” You’ve never seen Jim quite so indifferent and snappy before, raising your curiosity. For some reason, you still stood there, barely peeking through the window of the door, still holding your empty cup.

“Ok, so if he still wanted breasts-”

“Nope.” Jim was already shaking his head, stirring sugar into his coffee.

“Alright fine, but also. Can he sow a penis-”

“Nope.” Kevin huffs in frustration, flapping his arms for a split second.

“Why do you keep saying no to all of my questions?” Jim finishes stirring his coffee, placing the spoon in the sink and turning to look directly at Kevin finally.

“Because all of these questions are way too personal.”

“How are they personal?” You tilt your head, furrowing your brow. How would they not be personal? Jim seems frustrated, running his free hand through his hair.

“You can’t just ask someone about their breasts or genitals, Kevin. You wouldn’t want anyone asking about your dick.”

“Actually, it’s kinda itchy-”

“Nope!” Jim pushes away from the bar, leaving immediately. You’re stuck between sympathy for both of them. You don’t think Kevin actually knows any better at this point, but you also just felt too awkward to even try to come up with an answer to those questions. However, were these the types of things that Jim had to put up with daily just to vet the office for you? Why would he put himself through all of that?

“He’s really trying, you know?” You startle from your thoughts, turning to look at Kelly still sitting in her rolling chair. You tilt your head in confusion, but also shifted on your feet, hoping to play off the fact that you’d been standing there this whole time.

“Who?” Kelly just gives you a look you can’t quite decipher, continuing.

“Jim, obviously.” She sighs, pushing herself away from her desk and standing. “He’s even asked me for help on occasion. Little things here and there, but he recruits the allies where he can find them.” You purse your lips, leaning back against the wall next to the door, crossing your arms while holding your cup upright still.

“Asked you for help? Doing what? Who else has he asked?”

“I knew you’d figure it out at some point, I just didn’t think it’d be when someone slipped through his fingers. Though, Michael is pretty unpredictable like that.” She shrugs with a smile like she’s trying to hold back a laugh. “His main ask for me was just to intercept anyone trying to bother you- most likely to ask the dumb questions. I just had to send them right back through the breakroom over to Jim’s desk.”

“Did that happen often?” She shrugs again, wiggling her head.

“Not often, but a few times. Mainly Kevin, he has a lot of questions.” You nod, glancing briefly toward the breakroom’s door before resting your eyes on her once more. You study her posture, then try to make a guess.

“The other was Mr Dellicker, wasn’t it?” She winces but nods nonetheless.

“He was a real ass.” She sighs dramatically, moving to lean against the wall next to you and bunching up one of the random, typical office posters that hang around throughout the floor. “He was Dwight’s client, actually. The moment Dwight heard him be even a small bit transphobic, he hung up the phone. This, of course, caught Jim’s attention. I mean, have you ever known Dwight to drop a client? Like, ever?” You shake your head in agreement, and she nods with you. “Yeah, right? Anyway, Jim asks, Dwight answered. To Dwight, that was the end of the entire thing. To Jim, however,” Her smile begins growing as she leans closer to you, “Well, he knew that Mr Dellicker would call back to complain. And who would be picking up the phone?”

“Customer service,” You mumble, absorbed into her story.

“Exactly!” She giggles now, unable to hold it back. “It was adorable, really, the way he begged me to make sure I took his call. He actually asked me to call the man first, but I told Jim I wouldn’t go out of my way just to aggravate someone who, as far as we knew, wouldn’t be calling back after such a rude hang-up. But he wouldn’t let up, so I agreed to keep an ear out.” She huffs now, widening her eyes with a far-off look. “Good thing I did, too. He was such an ass.”

“Thank you,” You say softly, bringing her back to the present. She tries to brush it off but you just shake your head, placing a hand on her arm. “No, not just for Mr Dellicker. For agreeing to help out at any point, just for me. For not making a big deal about my whole coming out, for never treating me any different or- just-” You hesitate, shaking your head. “Just everything, Kelly. You’re an amazing coworker.” You watch her eyes begin to water, and she lets out a wet laugh.

“Wow,” She raises her hands, wiping the corners of her eyes. “You’re going to make my makeup run.” She pushes up from the wall, circling you and entering into the breakroom, heading straight for the girls’ bathroom. You widen your eyes at this reaction, unsure, but take a deep breath and enter into the breakroom yourself. You still had some tea to brew.

You didn’t mean to idle, standing near the exit of the breakroom toward the annexe, but stuck in place watching Jim lean against Pam’s desk through the door’s window on the other side of the room. They were talking back and forth- a lot of laughing involved- and you couldn’t quite place the feelings whirling in your chest. It felt similar to jealousy, but you knew that wasn’t it. Envy? That perhaps she was his type, and not you after your transition? Insecurity?

You startle as Jim suddenly meets your eyes, watching him straighten up quickly. You try to act nonchalant, moving out of his line of sight to grab your lunch from the fridge, and sitting at the break room table. You’d finished your second cup of tea hours ago, and you were a tad overdue for your lunch break considering you had a whole host of emails that you usually respond to in the morning, but had to answer during your second cup of tea since you’d been just a tad distracted that morning. You bite your lip as the events from that morning fly through your mind, a whole host of emotions attached to them.

The door across the room opens, stopping your train of thought in its tracks. Jim walks in with a smile, moving toward the fridge. “Hey,” He greets you, scanning you with his eyes while you just sat there, slowly removing your lunch from its brown paper bag. “Was starting to worry you’d forgo lunch.” You laugh, then proceed to explain your lateness. As he sets his own lunch on the table, you begin to wonder if he waited for you. Then your eyes flicker back toward the door you’d been staring at him through.

“So, how’s Pam?” Jim seems a bit taken off guard at the question, turning to look at the door himself before looking back to you. He shrugs, taking his own lunch out of his lunch box.

“Uh, good, I guess?” He raises his sandwich, ready to take a bite before hesitating and adding on, “She’s excited to hear about that one show you mentioned this morning.” You nod along, watching as he begins to eat his sandwich. You take your own small bite, looking toward the door again.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Jim’s eyebrows furrow immediately, and you watch him swallow. He seems to be planning his actions in his head before he performs them, placing his sandwich down.

“What?” He looks around the room aimlessly, wiggling his head. “I mean, yeah of course. She’s cute.”

“You two get along really well.” At this he chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ve worked together for a long time.” You both fall silent, taking more bites of your food. Jim breaks the silence with a resounding, “I’d probably have developed a crush on her by now if I wasn’t gay.”

Gay.

You end up lightly choking on your bite from surprise, playing it off with a cough and a sip of your water bottle. You can see Jim staring down at his sandwich at the table, taking a deep breath. “So, I can see why someone would develop a crush on her. If he was straight.” He glances briefly up at you, then back down to his sandwich. You tried your damndest to keep the look of shock from your face, that it takes an extra minute before you understand what he’s not saying. Did he think you were asking because you had a crush on Pam? You take another sip of water, letting your eyes wander away from him.

“Yeah, same.” Out of the corner of your eye, Jim glances up at you quickly, a look of concentration on his face that indicates his thoughts roaming a million miles an hour. You shrug for show, moving your own food closer so you can take a bite once you finish speaking. “I’d probably have developed a crush as well if I was straight.”

You only recognized the signs of Jim choking since you’d just gone through the same thing, as the man turns to cough into his arm as if to play it off. At least the poor man hadn’t been chewing food like you were. By the time Jim finished drinking from his own bottle, and moved to lean forward and say something, he was interrupted by the door opening and someone entering inside. He leans back, looking self-conscious, and you feel such a deep curiosity about what he was going to say that it burns in your chest. You don’t even register who walked in until she was taking a seat right next to you.

“I don’t know how you can stand it, Jim,” Kelly begins softly, and you look at her with confusion. Kelly never talks softly? “Working right next to the receptionist's desk all day. How do you get any work done?” Jim’s eyes flicker between you and Kelly, clearing his throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s so hot!” You and Jim meet eyes suddenly, listening to her continue to talk in a soft voice. No wonder, considering she was essentially coming out to the both of you. “When I first started and had to work over in that area, I was getting nothing done. Toby had to ask me what was wrong, and I sorta kinda told the truth that I was extremely distracted. He moved me to the annexe-” She pauses here, resting a hand on your arm with a sympathetic expression, “Sorry, Y/N, that’s why you’re confined back here as well.” You shake your head quickly, rushing in.

“No, it’s fine. I like it back here.”

“You do?” Jim asks with a smirk, and you give him a look essentially saying ‘Shut the fuck up Halpert I’m trying to console her.’ He just laughs noiselessly, his chest shaking as he moves to take another gigantic bite of his sandwich.

“Anyway, it’s so distracting. I had to go get something copied and I stood there an extra five minutes trying not to stare too directly at her. Oscar literally had to nudge me and remind me what I was doing!” She groans, letting her head fall onto the table. “So embarrassing.”

“Oscar knows?” You ask gently, unsure whether she actually realized she told you both. She lifts her head with a sigh, seemingly unfazed.

“Well, yeah. Oscar knows about everyone.” You hear Jim scoff softly, mumbling quietly under his breath.

“Not everyone.” This only causes Kelly to raise an eyebrow at Jim, smirking with humour.

“Oh, he knows about everyone, Jim.” His head was quick as it whipped toward Kelly, leaning in.

“Wait, what?”

“I mean,” She shrugs, glancing toward you briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You’re kinda obvious, Jim.” You can see his eyes widen, but you only feel confusion.

“Wait, how many people are gay in this office?” Kelly only shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes.

“Not my place to say.” You nodded along, obviously that being true. You meet Jim’s eyes once again, and you can see red peppering his cheeks.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jim.” He nods as if agreeing, flicking his eyes between you and the rest of his sandwich throughout the rest of lunch. Kelly takes the initiative in the ensuing silence, talking about everything yet nothing at the same time. Just as you and Jim are both cleaning up to get back to work, Kelly sighs loudly with an eyeroll before looking toward you and plastering on a smile. The look only made you feel wary.

“So, Y/N, what are your plans for after work?” You swallow roughly, glancing at a wide-eyed Jim, then back to her.

“Uh, nothing really?”

“Oh,” She draws out, reaching forward and placing a flirty hand on your arm. “So you’re free tonight? Want to go out for drinks?” You stutter, pulling away from her arm, your head already shaking as you try to come up with an excuse. ‘Didn’t she just say that she found Pam attractive? What the hell is going on?’

“Uh, Kelly-” Jim tries to intercept, but she pulls away as if nothing happened, shrugging.

“I just meant with the lot of us. Jim will be there too, won’t you Jim?” She looks directly at him, raising her eyebrows as if she was expecting something from him. You look between the two as an awkward silence settles before Jim startles, trying (and failing) for a normal smile.

“Oh! Those drinks!” Jim laughs awkwardly, looking back and meeting your eyes. “Yeah, we’re all going out for happy hour at Poor Richard’s Pub, you should join us!” You relax slightly as Jim was the one offering, no matter how weird this entire interaction ended up being.

“Oh, uh,” You hesitate, still slightly wary. There’s obviously something you’re missing here. “I mean, sure. I have nothing else to do. Who all will be there?”

“Just a couple people from the office,” Kelly quickly answers, standing and moving to throw her own trash away. She turns to look at both you and Jim, still sitting in your chairs. “Well, c’mon! We have work to do, people!”

“I know why I’m sorry now.” You startle at your desk, turning to look directly at Michael Scott with wide eyes. You hadn’t even heard him approach. He circles around your desk, motioning for you to stop your work as he leans against your desk- an unknowing imitation of Jim that morning. “If you’re willing to listen?”

You can feel yourself swallow roughly, the beginnings of a familiar panic starting in your chest. You’re unsure what to say, so you just nod. He nods as well, taking a deep breath before continuing. “At first, I had no clue what you meant. I knew I was sorry, and I knew it was because I had hurt you.” He looks into your eyes, regret deep within his own. “But that wasn’t enough for you. So I started thinking.” He chuckles softly, leaning back on his hands and letting his own gaze roam the walls behind your desk. “And when that didn’t work, I remembered something Pam said when she tried to play along with my- well, yeah. A certain word I didn’t recognize. Dysphoric.”

You feel yourself tense, suddenly remembering the tightness around your chest where the binder lays under your clothes. You can feel the tie around your neck like it was trying to choke you. Michael, unaware of your inner struggles, continues on. “That search was enlightening- it was like everything you had expressed to me. And everything I had felt, trying on those clothes.” He hunches inward, his expression becoming stormy. “I felt so wrong wearing that skirt. And you were right- I had tried a blouse on. I bought one at the store that fit and even brought it home, but it just felt so weird when I tried to walk out of the door with it on. So I switched to my normal shirt.

“Then I was sitting in the parking lot, and I knew that the moment I placed my foot out of my car, everyone would see the skirt. I was-” He laughs humourlessly, shaking his head. “I was terrified. I tried to ignore it- like it was just stage fright, something I had to talk myself into.” You began to nod, intrigued by his story. “I don’t know how I convinced myself to get out of the car- I guess something along the lines of, ‘Well, I’m the boss. The ship will sink without me in there.’” He takes a deep breath, patting his legs loudly. “Anyway, I was jealous.” He shrugs, looking at you with wet eyes. Was he really getting emotional over this? “I mean, you did kinda steal my birthday away from me.”

Memories of that night flash quickly through your head. You’d come out during a party- a party you didn’t know the purpose of. That pink quinceañera cake… You didn’t get to taste it, but they could’ve gotten it because it was his favourite flavour? You hadn’t even seen Michael there. Was he trying for a grand entrance? Memories from this morning flash through your mind’s eye, Michael yelling at Pam, ‘He stole my thunder! My thunder, Pam!’

“It wasn’t planned, Michael,” You try to assuage, wincing despite yourself. “I’m sorry, though.” Your apology causes Michael to blow a sigh out roughly, then laugh and slap his thighs again.

“Wow! I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that.” You’re both silent- you studying Michael’s face, and Michael looking anywhere but at you. Then you start laughing.

“Michael,” You try to talk through your laughter, but you just shake your head and try to get it under control. You wouldn’t want him to think you were making fun of him- you only found him ridiculous- so you try your best to calm down. “Michael. You were upset that I ‘stole your thunder’ on your birthday, so your response was to… Pretend to be a girl? Instead of, oh I don’t know,” You try to hold back your laughter again, choking lightly on your words, “Throwing another party?” Michael seems to take a moment to absorb this- then begins to laugh alongside you.

“Well, that would’ve only been easy, Y/N. When have you known me to do things the easy way?” You both laughed again, and you began to shake your head.

“Never.” When your laughter finally dies down, you meet his eyes once again. Staring at each other, it's like you both finally understood. You thought he was just ignorant, but you had been missing out on important information as well. He began to nod, glancing over his shoulder toward the nearby wall clock.

“Well, looks like I kept you long enough. Time to clock on out!” He jumps up, shooting finger guns before backing up. He trips over the edge of the divider, tries to play it off, and then groans loudly when he sees Toby walking by. “God, every time!”

You chuckle to yourself, then begin the process of shutting down your computer and packing up. Kelly skirts around the divider quickly once the door closes behind Michael, leaning into your space. “Let me drive you.” You hesitate, widening your eyes.

“I’m sorry?”

“To the pub! Let me drive you!” You laugh nervously, beginning to shake your head.

“Oh, uh, no. I have my own car, but thank you-”

“If you drink, you won’t be able to drive home.” She counters, raising her eyebrows at you. You laugh again, shaking your head.

“Well, if we’re all drinking, wouldn’t you drink too?” She shakes her head immediately, crossing her arms.

“I don’t drink at all.” You still feel hesitant, and it must show on your face as she sighs and then leans in. “I’ll tell you Jim’s whole deal.” This catches you, looking back at her to study her.

“What do you mean…?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me drive you!” You huff a laugh, smiling despite yourself. “Yeah, alright. But if I don’t drink, you gotta’ take me back here so I can drive myself home.”

“Deal! And if you do, then I’ll drive you home and pick you up for work tomorrow morning!” You laugh again, shaking your head as you pick your briefcase up, finished with closing down your desk for the day.

“You seem excited about this.”

“Absolutely! I’ve been waiting forever!”

You were still unsure what she meant but followed along with the hyperactive girl as she burst through both of the doors to the breakroom. You watch Jim straighten where he had been leaning against Pam’s receptionist's desk, and smile toward you as you made your way to the exit.

“You know,” Jim starts, huffing a soft laugh and smiling in a way that took your breath away, “I was thinking.”

“Oh,” You draw out, smiling despite yourself, “Dangerous territory there, Halpert.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim begins, laughing again. He takes a discreet look around before reaching forward to almost take your hand, his fingers tangling with your own but not quite grasping. “I was hoping that maybe I could drive you down to the pub? I know you have your own car and all, but I just want to make sure you’re safe with getting home, y’know?” Your face falls just as you hear Kelly’s voice behind you.

“Oh, don’t worry Jim! He has a ride already.” Jim looks toward Kelly over your shoulder, then back to you with wide eyes, pulling his hand away.

“Already?” Jim looks back to Kelly, confusion clear across his face.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Jim!” You feel her small hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you toward the door. “We’ll meet you there!”

You take one last look at Jim through the glass doors as Kelly drags you along to the elevator. You hesitate, mind trying to catch up, before you finally clear your throat and look at her. “No offence here, Kelly, but I honestly think I would’ve preferred riding with Jim?”

“You’ll have the rest of your life to ride with Jim. Just let me tell you what I need to tell you without the risk of Jim hearing us.” You both step onto the elevator, as Kelly begins mashing the button for the lobby.

“Uh,” Your mind is stuck, repeating ‘rest of your life’ and ‘Jim’ over and over. “This feels… Is this nefarious?”

“‘Nefarious,’” Kelly mocks, pulling you once the doors open again. “You say the oddest things sometimes.” You didn’t know which car was hers, but considering she was dragging you along, you didn’t have to guess. She pulls your briefcase from your hands, finally letting go of you, and you just stand in place. She throws your suitcase and her purse into the backseat, then opens the driver's door with a look up at you. “Well, get in!”

It was quiet for a long portion of the drive. You didn’t know what to ask, or how to even broach the subject. Did it seem too eager, to ride along with her just because she promised to tell you about Jim? And what was she even talking about- how would Kelly know more about Jim than you? True, you both hadn’t been friends for very long just yet, but you didn’t know Kelly and Jim were friends?

“So, it started when you started transitioning,” Kelly said, bursting you from your whirlwind of questions. “We all got pretty curious. I was the one who had the theory you were trans first.” She winces, looking over to you. “Sorry. I didn’t know at the time how true I was. I honestly didn’t even know if you knew about it, but- well, obviously you did.” You tilt your head, brow furrowing.

“You all were talking about me before we were friends?”

“Well, you know how the office is. You were changing, and people were noticing. Especially Pam and Jim. Pam, who is such a sweetheart and just wants everyone to be comfortable. She had a feeling you were never quite comfortable at the office but didn’t know how to help. Jim found you hot, which was throwing him for a loop considering he is gay, and normally not attracted to-” She hesitates, tilting her head. “Well, we did think you were a girl at the time.”

You nod along, unoffended. “Right, but-” You scoff, shaking your head, “I don’t know if I believe this story now. I mean, Jim? Finding me-” You almost say the word, then scoff softly and look down to your lap. “Attractive?”

“Well, you are hot,” Kelly confirms, and you look up quickly at her. You aren’t sure what expression is on your face, but Kelly just laughs. “What? Don’t look at me like that! You were hot when we all thought that you were a girl, and you’re even hotter now that we know you’re a boy!” You laugh in disbelief, shaking your head. Kelly continues on, pushing through your awkwardness. “I mean, c’mon! Confidence is sexy as hell.”

You look away, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks as you remember Jim saying something similar. “Sure, but-” Kelly interrupts you, continuing with her story.

“So once you finally came out, Jim had his own little freak-out because it wasn’t just a theory anymore. It is true, you are a dude, and Jim didn’t know if he could handle you getting hotter and hotter every day.” You flashback to another scene in your head, Jim saying something similar to Pam and you laughing, accusing him of finding Dwight attractive. Was he talking about you at that time? Kelly’s voice brings you back.

“Anyway, I finally told him that he needed to get his act together and ask you out already, or I’d do it first. Either ask you out for myself or for him, but either way. I don’t know if I could stand any more of him spewing about you, I mean- all I heard was Y/N this, or Y/N that, or ‘Wow he’s wearing the tie I gifted him!’ I mean, that man can talk.” You hold back a laugh, shaking your head. The one and only Kelly Kapoor, complaining about someone talking too much. That’d be hilarious to tell Jim- if you ever got the nerve together to tell him about this little conversation.

“Ok,” You huff out, shaking your head, “You’re asking me to believe that Jim not only finds me attractive but wants to date me?”

“Well, that’s where we’re going now! So you better believe it.”

“Going now- but you’re here? The office will be there, how would it be a date?”

“It’s going to be a date,” Kelly starts slowly, looking at you with a grin, “Because it’s not an office hangout. I’m going to drop you off and leave, and then Jim can take you home. I only did this to get you both together outside of work, you’ll be all alone with him.” She huffs, squeezing the steering wheel around her hands. “And I’m telling you all of this before the date because I don’t trust Jim to admit anything to you without pushing him for it. If I’m not there to pressure him, then-”

“Woah woah woah,” You interrupt, shaking your head quickly. “I’m not about to pressure my best friend for- for some wild hope that he might feel the same. And I-” You can feel the panic again, pulling at the seatbelt around your torso. “I don’t know if I can do this, I didn’t know it would be just us, I mean-”

“Calm down, it’ll be fine. It’s just Jim, remember?” ‘It’s just Jim,’ You repeat to yourself as Kelly turns the car into the pub’s parking lot. You take a few deep breaths, nodding your head. ‘Yeah, I can do this. It’s just Jim, just normal ole Jim.’ Kelly backs her car into a space, waiting for Jim’s to arrive. It doesn’t take long to notice Jim’s car pulling in, parking in one of the front parking spaces, directly in your line of sight. You take another deep breath, nodding.

“I can do this,” You whisper, and Kelly reaches over to squeeze your arm. That’s when you watch two of the car doors open, Jim and Pam stepping out to take a look around. You hear a squeak beside you, Kelly’s hand tightening on your arm. You look over with concern, watching panic written across her face.

“Oh, Jim, you bitch,” Kelly whispers, shaking her head.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“Absolutely not,” Kelly whispers, then moves to get out of the car alongside you. You both approach the other two, smiles on your faces. They finally notice you, and it’s almost like you and Jim have locked eyes and thrown away the key. You’re unsure what’s really happening between the two girls, not registering the words exchanged. You walk a little closer to Jim, smiling up at him.

“Hey,” You whisper, and his smile widens, reaching his hand out in an imitation of earlier, tangling your fingers together.

“Hey.” He glances over to the other two girls, wincing and looking back to you. “I wasn’t sure- is it okay that I brought Pam?”

“Apparently,” You whisper, leaning closer and glancing briefly at Kelly to make sure she’s sufficiently distracted, “That wasn’t part of the plan. She told me she was throwing me out of the car and driving off.” You note the blush lighting up Kelly’s cheeks as she talks with Pam, before turning your attention back to Jim. You hadn’t realized you leaned in this close- or did he lean in as well? His face was next to yours, close enough to share a kiss.

“Shall we head inside? Guys?” You both jump apart, and you look guiltily over to Pam, who spoke. She only smiled in response, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “We could grab a booth?”

The night was going well. It didn’t really feel like a date like Kelly had hoped it to be, but instead a nice get-together of a couple friends. You all laughed constantly, telling stories and jokes from the office, while also sharing your own life’s stories. No one really talked about their own life outside of the office while they were working, so it was a refreshing twist on things. You felt drawn even closer to the lot of them- Jim, especially, as he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from you for too long. You weren’t sure, but you thought it was Jim’s leg under the table pressing against your own. You hoped so, anyway.

“But, yeah, Toby is so weird! You guys don’t get that vibe?” Pam continues, giggling as she sips her mixed drink. Jim and Kelly were the only two keeping away from the alcohol, but you had ordered your favourite mixed drink and had slowly been sipping on it. You knew you weren’t drunk yet, but you were pleasantly tipsy.

“No?” You hesitated, trying to think back over the times you’ve interacted with him. It was more often than most since you worked in the annexe, but he always seemed like a nice, if tired, man.

“It’s cause he has a crush on you,” Kelly nods, laughing alongside Jim. Pam blushes, shaking her head quickly.

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“Well, Kelly would know,” Jim points out with a grin, raising his glass to his mouth and taking a large gulp. You watch confusion rush across Pam’s face, while Kelly’s turns a bright shade of red. She mouthed his name behind her cup, giving him a stern look.

“What does he mean by that?” She asks, looking between you and Kelly, then back at Jim. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” You begin, laughing under your breath. “Just that Kelly has a lot of experience talking with Toby. He was the one who moved her into the annexe, after all. It almost seems like they have a lot in common?” You end it with a question, trying your best to be vague. Jim almost spits out his drink with his laugh, turning to cough into the crook of his arm.

You hear Pam question, “Yeah, why were you moved into the annexe?” Right as Kelly mumbled from beside you, “Not that much in common. Like one thing.” You and Jim meet eyes, trying to keep the humour from your faces.

The rest of the night passed in much the same way. You still were unsure about the whole ‘Jim liking you’ bit but found yourself pleasantly hopeful. And it seemed like- if that was true- maybe Jim was trying to get back at Kelly by teasing her about liking Pam. You began to wonder if that was his plan all along, showing up with Pam randomly. Honestly, whether this was a double date or just a hang-out with friends, you found yourself enjoying the time immensely. But the night was wearing thin, and all four of you had work in the morning.

As you and Pam were helping each other out of the booths, making sure she hadn’t forgotten her purse, Jim and Kelly had run off to pay the bill. You glanced over at Jim- probably with a longing look since you can’t exactly help it, being slightly inebriated- and watched him lean in close to Kelly as they began whispering back and forth.

“He’s a good guy, y’know.” You look back over to Pam, eyes widening. “I don’t know you well enough yet to know your thoughts on him, but he is a good guy. And he deserves the world.” You chuckle softly, nodding.

“Yeah,” You say breathlessly, looking back over to him. He glanced up at the same time, and you can’t help the smile crossing your face. “I think so too.”

“Then tell him,” Pam insists, and you look back down to her. “He deserves to know that. He thinks he’s not worth your time, apparently.”

“That’s ridiculous-”

“What’s ridiculous?” Jim asks as the other two rejoin you and Pam. Pam smiles brightly leaning over to take Kelly’s arm.

“That you have to drive all the way across town just to drop me off, Jim!”

“Actually, we were just talking about that,” Kelly mumbles, and you smile watching her attempt to hold eye contact with Pam unsuccessfully. “If it’s okay with you, then maybe I could take you home? And Jim can take Y/N.”

“Yes!” Pam practically yells out, and you chuckle softly. You look over toward Jim, seeing him already looking your way.

“If that’s alright with you?” He whispers, and you nod immediately.

“Of course it is, Jim.”

“Good,” Jim says, releasing a breath as if with relief.

“Good,” You parrot, reaching forward boldly to take his hand. “Lead on, then.”

Once you and Jim make it to his car, you both wait before getting in to make sure Pam and Kelly are in their car safe and buckled. Once Kelly begins pulling out, Jim turns to you and leans in closer. “I had a fantastic time today.” You laugh, nodding along, leaning against his car and gravitating toward him.

“I did too. ‘Was surprised that Pam showed up, though.”

“Well, Kelly did say it was ‘the office’ going out for drinks. I thought it’d be fine.”

“Well, she didn’t actually mean the office, apparently. She was just trying to get us alone.” You shrug, smirking up at him. His deer-in-headlights look was gone now, for some reason. He seemed bold, leaning closer and taking your hand.

“And if it was? Would that have been fine?” You laugh again, nodding slowly.

“That would’ve been perfect.” His face slowly loses his teasing look, turning serious- but soft.

“Y/N,” Your name is husky in his mouth as he begins leaning closer, and you can smell his cologne in the air. Everything was so much, his smell, his body heat, his honey-brown eyes as he took up your entire vision. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” You whisper in return and meet him halfway as your lips crush together. He pulls the hand not holding yours to your face, lightly caressing your cheek throughout the heated kiss, and you grab hold of his hip with your own free hand, pulling him closer. You can feel him moan through the kiss, turning his head to deepen it. This was nothing like you’ve dreamed of- but oh, so much better.

When you two finally part, breathing heavily, he’s pressing you against his car with the length of his body. You both pant as you stare into each other’s eyes, and your grip slowly loosens on his hip. Eventually, he pulls away, clearing his throat with a blush. “Wow,” He whispers, a smile growing as he looks at you bashfully.

“Yeah,” You agree just as quietly, and Jim moves to open the passenger door for you. “Oh, right. Thank you.”

As you sat down in Jim’s car, ready to be driven home, you can’t help but think: ‘Man, I love working for Dunder Mifflin. Even the bad days can turn into the best ones.’

Tag List: @ltnoscara @zombieboyevan @cursedashes

[honeylations]

CHANELLE MOON x FEM!READER

Prompt: She’s out with the girls at a bar but she can’t keep her eyes off you and is encouraged to make a move

Warnings/Notes: bartender reader, not all contestants are mentioned in this story

A/N: I never thought I’d write for R U Next but here I am T^T couldn’t help it when I laid eyes on Chanelle and Jiwoo. Also, I decided to include the eliminated contestants because I love Moa and Funa :<

———

“I needed this” Yunah sighed with content as her and the other girls managed to find a table in the bar.

“I’m glad we’re all here” Jiwoo said that earned a laugh from the others.

“I’m more surprised Minju’s here. Aren’t you parents strict or something” Moa commented, leaning her elbows on the table.

“They were but I managed to convince them” Minju smirked.

Everyone looked at her with confusion.

“What did you say?” Yunah asked and took a menu from the centre of the table.

“That Funa was being deported back to Japan-“

“WHAT?!” The entire table screamed, a mixture of disbelief and laughter.

“They’re gonna think I’m some trouble maker or something!” Funa dramatically cried into her palms.

“Are you hearing this, Chanelle?….Chanelle?” Jiwoo poked the called girl’s shoulder.

The half American jumped and returned her eyes to the other girls in panic. “Sorry, what did you guys say?”

Yunah squinted before looking behind to where Chantelle’s eyes were at first. That’s when she saw you, a young bartender that held a pretty smile when serving the many customers at the counter. You had beautiful long hair and great fashion sense.

Yunah looked back at Chanelle with a goofy smirk. “You creep”

Chanelle’s eyes widened. “I am not!”

“What’s happening?” Jiwoo asked, trying to look at what Yunah saw.

“Our adorable Chanelle here… has a cwushie wushie on the pretty bartender” Yunah nodded her head to where you were.

“Ohhhh~ She’s so pretty Unnie~” Minju wiggled her brows and the others added onto the teasing.

“You should ask for her name” Moa winked.

“Or even better, her number” Jiwoo made kissy faces.

“Stop, please” Chanelle groaned and laid her head down on the table.

“Hey, why don’t you go order us some drinks and food?” Moa suggested while snatching the menu for Yunah and slapping it onto Chanelle’s head.

The half American sat up and held the menu tightly. “Do you even know what you want to order?”

“Just to start light, can you get all of us the Sunrise cocktail?” Jiwoo asked, pointing at the night’s specials.

“Oh and a bowl of chips to share!” Minju excitedly put her hand up.

“And a cheeseburger for me!” Moa had to add, earning a look from Chanelle.

“Well can one of you come with me to help grab the drinks? I only have two hands” Chanelle said but the girls shook their heads.

“Nah we’re good. Plus, you get to go back and forth to see the pretty bartender!” Jiwoo giggled, only for Chanelle to roll her eyes.

“Fine whatever. Y’all better pay me back! Drinks are expensive”

“Yeah yeah. Now go!” Yunah flicked her wrist as Chanelle walked off.

“Are we gonna ignore that I have to pretend to be deported?!” Funa yelled.

“Hi there, what can I get for you?” You smiled when Chanelle approached you at the counter.

Her breath hitched, realising you were even more beautiful up close. “H-Hi, um…shit I forgot what they wanted” Chanelle hissed and started skimming through the menu again.

She was surprised (and proud) to hear you give a small laugh. “No rush, gorgeous”

GORGEOUS?! Chanelle needed to remind herself that it’s bartender language and she shouldn’t let her delusions get the best of her.

“I’m sorry, I forgot what my friends ordered. What would you recommend?”

You smiled at her worried face. “We thinking of something strong? Or like a cocktail?”

“Cocktail please, I can’t be bothered dealing with 5 drunk girls tonight” Chanelle placed the menu down and sighed.

“Let me whip you up my secret drink then” You winked, almost sending Chanelle into cardiac arrest.

“Don’t poison them please, I don’t have many friends”

And for the first time that night, you warm heartedly laughed, holding your stomach from how funny this tall girl was. “I didn’t mean to laugh so hard, I’m sorry. You’re just so cute!”

Chanelle looked away to hide her blush, unfortunately making eye contact with her table who started making kissing noises. The half American sent them a middle finger before turning back to you.

“How many drinks did you want?”

“5 of your special drink please. I’ll just have a lemonade” Chanelle leaned onto the counter.

“You’re not a drinker?” You asked while setting up the glasses and ingredients.

“I do drink but not for tonight. I’ll get ahead of myself”

You nodded and started bopping your head to the bar’s music, creating an awkward silence between you and the taller girl. That’s when Chanelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“You’re very pretty. What’s your name?”

Chanelle didn’t miss the way the tip of your ears went red and how you started giggling timidly. “Thank you. I’m Y/n”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Chanelle”

You tilted your head while mixing the drinks individually. “Your name is pretty. You foreign?”

“Oh yeah, I’m half Korean”

“What’s the other half?”

“Half yours?” Chanelle cringed at herself, making you laugh loud again.

“Smooth Chanelle, very smooth”

“Too much?”

You shook your head and started wiping any spills on the counter. “Not at all. It was perfect”

‘You’re perfect’ Chanelle wanted to say but she already embarrassed herself with the dumb pick up line.

“Alright Miss Chanelle, here are your drinks. $63 please”

You snorted at the way the taller’s eyes almost popped out her sockets. “Jesus, I forget how expensive drinks are” she muttered and pulled out cash, placing it in your hands.

“Thank you. Let me get your change”

“No it’s okay, keep it as a tip. You know, for your 5 star customer service” Chanelle grinned.

“Oh~ Such a smooth talker aren’t you?”

“Good enough to possibly get your socials? Or maybe your number”

Not gonna lie, you wanted to punch Chanelle out the window…out of cuteness aggression. She was undeniably attractive and charming, there was no way you were gonna let this opportunity slide.

“Sure. I’ll give you both” You took the phone from her and gave your details before returning the device.

“You must get a lot of people asking you that, huh?” Chanelle fiddled with her phone.

“I do. But this is the first time I’ve actually given it to someone”

“I’m honoured. I should probably let you go. I don’t want your manager yelling at you” Chanelle scratched the back of her neck while eyeing the 6 glasses.

You took notice of her worry and walked around the counter, now standing directly in front. “I’ll help you”

“Well aren’t you sweet” The taller giggled and took 3 glasses while you took the other 3 and followed her to the table.

“Took you long enough, Chanelle” Yunah sighed before grabbing one of the glasses.

You placed the rest down and quickly brushed your hand across Chanelle’s arm. “See you around, cutie”

Chanelle’s eyes followed you while you walked away, her gaze shamelessly checking out your body. Moa slapped the back of her head.

“You’re no better than a man”

Chanelle shrugged and sipped her lemonade.

“Hey this isn’t the cocktail I asked for” Jiwoo frowned.

“Did you order my chips?” Minju asked with sparkle in her eyes.

“And my cheeseburger?” Moa raised her eyebrows.

The half American gulped. “I forgot, sorry..”

“CHANELLE!”

“ORDER IT YOURSELF THEN!”

“ASK YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”

“I HATE YOU ALL!”

A/N: lemme know if you want more 😔

[blushweddinggowns]

Steve was completely normal the next day. Infuriatingly, normal. Flirting with girls and spinning his hat around. Normal enough for Robin to start to think she had a full on hallucination last night. But she wasn’t crazy. She knew that she saw those two going at it, all in front of Eddie's signature shitty van.

Didn’t she?

“You’ve been quiet today.”

Robin jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice, completely lost in her own thoughts. He was staring right at her, popping his gum as he went on, “You don’t even bring the flirting board out. Did you get bored of it or are you finally willing to concede that I’m a great flirt?”

“I’ll never concede that,” Robin said easily. It was true anyway, the guy was freaking terrible at it, at least with girls his own age. Now housewives and cougars he had a knack for. But anyone who could possibly be girlfriend material ended up leaving with a giggle and a funny story about the dork in the sailor suit trying to pick them up, and nothing more. 

But Robin had a feeling that maybe Harrington had been downplaying his skills in that department afterall.

He raised a brow at her, “So what’s your problem then?”

“I’m just tired,” She lied, “A consequence of having to be here so late. Alone. Thanks again for that by the way. Hope your night was worth it.”

The little shit didn’t even try to look like he felt guilty. He just smirked, “Oh, it was. And I’m holding up my end of the deal aren’t I? I’m not flirting with grandmas for kicks over here.”

She had to give him that. He really had been turning up the charm for the mall walkers. But still…

“Aw, poor you. Like you wouldn’t have been trying to get in someone’s pants without owing me,” She said, trying for casualness. Like she wasn’t watching for his every reaction out of the corner of her eye, “Isn’t the hump and dump the Harrington way?”

He rolled his eyes, his voice on the colder side when he answered, “Don’t believe everything you hear Buckley. I happen to be the perfect gentleman, thank you very much.”

Weirdly enough, part of her was starting to believe it. 

But still. Even if she saw them kissing, it left too many unanswered questions. What about the trail of heartbroken women he had left in his wake? What about Nancy Wheeler, the only girl who ever landed him for more than a day? They had been pretty serious before he’d gotten dumped, hadn’t they?

But now that Robin thought about it, no matter how many women came into Steve’s life, Eddie remained the only constant. Hell, in the short few weeks she'd been around him, it was obvious that he was obsessed with Steve, and vice versa. He was in nearly every day, until the manager banned him for being "distracting" to the workers. Which was half true, but Robin had a feeling it had more to do with him scaring customers away with his looks.

That was the only semi-scary thing about him though. He never really freaked Robin out that much, despite what others said about him. He was still in the loser category afterall and those were her people. Yeah he was loud, dressed like a confused goth, and sold drugs, but he wasn’t violent. He was shit stirrer, sure, but outside of appearances he was just mildly intimidating, at least to Robin. But when he was with Steve, even that was out the window. He basically just became a ray of sunshine, sweet, happy, bright, and weirdly enough…obedient? 

He basically did anything Steve asked of him, whether that be getting him lunch or helping them close up, the guy just did it. No questions asked, like it was an honor to be on Steve’s beck and call. Though Robin was sure the free ice cream helped.

Steve had sulked for days after Eddie was banned, and Robin thought it was because he lost his free personal assistant. But now…she didn’t know what was going on. 

Maybe this shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was. It’s not like there hadn’t been rumors. People had been making fun of them for being close for years.  But they were teenage boys around other teenage boys. How seriously was Robin supposed to take that? And teenage boys calling each other gay was like…a constant. Not just for Steve and Eddie. For literally any guy who did something slightly out of the norm was up for the title. Someone found out that a dude liked baking? Bam, gay. A guy dare cries in front of his friends after he gets dumped by a girlfriend? Super gay. She even heard a dude be called a fag for admitting to liking soccer for God’s sake. There was no rhyme or reason to male straightness, how was she supposed to know which rumors were true? 

She needs more, some kind of confirmation that guarantees she’s not wrong about this whole thing. And on a particularly slow day, she finds it. She hadn’t gone into work with the intention of eavesdropping on Steve through the break room door, but that’s where she landed. 

They had only been on shift for two hours and the guy was already on his second fifteen, insisting that he only had to make one “quick” call before going back to work. And she just…followed him back there, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“I know, I know. But it’s only a few more hours,” Steve’s muffled voice sighed, “I just wish you could still come see me. That rule is total bullshit.”

By this point Robin was pretty used to the tone of Steve’s voice. He usually sounded bored, always with a little edge of cockiness, unless you did something to rile him up. But he sounded different on the phone. Kinder. Sweeter even. She wasn’t sure. 

“Aw baby, are you down that bad?” Steve cooed. That cockiness she was used to was back in his voice, but now it was mixed with something else. Like he was breathless or something, she didn’t know, “Want me to walk you through it? I got ten minutes.”

Robin furrowed her brow, more than a little confused. Walk him through what?”

"Well if it feels so tight why don't you take it off?” Steve purred, barely loud enough for Robin to hear, “There you go. Isn't that better?"

Robin froze, mind racing at what she was hearing. But that couldn’t be right. She had to be misinterpreting this somehow, right? There was no way in hell that Steve would be have freaking phone sex at work-

“Yeah sweetheart, you can touch yourself now. Can you make it a little wetter baby? That’s it, good boy. Love when you get all whiny.”

Jesus Chrsit, he was. She had to stop listening after that, half out of embarrassment and half because…it just felt wrong. Though she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about where that conversation went. Extremely curious. But the small ounce of decorum she had left wouldn’t allow for it. 

Steve came out of the break room with a flush and a smirk ten minutes later, like the fucking weirdo he was. 

While he was distracted with their third customer of the day, she snuck back to the break room and pressed re-dial, not surprised in the slightest when she was met with a breathy, “Munson residence!" on the other line.

She hung up immediately at the sound of Eddie’s voice. That was all the proof she needed. There was no doubt about it now. Steve and Eddie were together. And had been for awhile. That four years comment wasn't looking like an exaggeration. 

And just like that her entire high school worldview was smashed into a million pieces. Because Steve fucking Harrington was in a relationship with a guy. A serious relationship. The same dude that she spent years obsessing over and being jealous over because of his charms, was as gay as she was. 

What a world. 

But somehow, this massive realization didn’t fix the jealousy. Because before she was jealous of all of the attention he got, from people she always thought he never deserved. But now she was jealous over the fact that he had managed the impossible. He was in a committed relationship with a man, a man whose dick he sucked while they were driving and who he walked through jerking off on the phone. While no one else was the wiser. How the fuck had he managed that? In this town of all places? While Robin was over here still pining away over every pretty blonde girl that smiled at her, Steve was living her closeted gay dream. How could she not be jealous?

But at least now it was mixed with some awe. Because if Steve Harrington could get away with being gay in Hawkins, why couldn’t she? She just wished she could talk to him about it. She just didn’t know what to say. But she knew she wanted to say something. 

Like maybe, Hey, I totally saw you making out with your boyfriend and I'm so far past being cool with it, I actually think it’s amazing. And oh I’m also gay and can we be best friends? 

Honestly though, from the little she did know about the guy, maybe that speech would be taken pretty well. She just didn’t know how to bring it up. Or when. 

But she was going to, eventually. She was going to get to know that dingus if it killed her.

Part two to this & from an this fic

[angstea]

i'm trapped in my tiny human brain (and it's killing me)

Fandom: FNAF Movie

Ship: SecurityWaiter

Series: Auctober 2024

Masterlist | Next ->

Summary: Ness may be chatty, but he doesn't always have words at his disposal

AN: Title from 888 by Cavetown

Mike, Abby and Ness are all autistic and Nes has anxiety :p

Written for Auctober Day 1: Autism Plus (this means comorbid or co-occurring conditions that come alongside with autism. (Dyslexia, ADHD, epilepsy, etc.))

Read on AO3

Ness had been called many things throughout his life. Chatty, rude, talkative and annoying, just to name a few. Ness never meant to be rude or anything, he just liked talking. Often a single word left his mouth and then he couldn't stop.

That being said, it wasn't always easy. Especially on days like this one. When the loud and belligerent customers who found it far too easy to abuse the staff for very little reason managed to bring tears to his eyes despite him knowing how to deal with them. When the lights flickering in the kitchen were just a bit more noticeable and the buzzing was persistent. Sometimes everything was just a bit much and his brain couldn't cope, so it shut down instead. Most of the time, that meant Ness couldn't talk.

Here in Mike's living room, Ness had been ranting about Freddy's once again, him and Abby were ganging up on Mike to convince them Chica was the best animatronic rather than their reluctantly picked favourite, Freddy (Ness went back and forth constantly on who was his favourite but right now, it was Chica because he was happy to be on Abby's side).

Had been, because he'd been struggling with his words the whole day and Abby had slowly taken over the conversation when Ness's voice started failing him. He could formulate a sentence in his head but trying to get the words past his lips was near impossible. They would lodge themselves in the back of his throat, stubborn and unmoving. But the worst part was when a sentence would suddenly reach the tip of his tongue and he'd begin to say something, only for it to dissolve in his mouth like candyfloss.

Soon, he fell completely silent, leaving Abby and Mike to talk while he hoped they wouldn't notice. He tapped his fingers together, attempting to soothe his rising anxiety as he listened to the two of them. But soon, their voices faded into the background, overruled by the sound of his heart thudding loudly against his ribcage. Everything else turned into static.

"Ness?"

Ness looked up from his fidgeting hands when he heard his name. Mike and Abby were both looking at him. He felt like a butterfly pinned in a display case.

"Ness, I asked you a question." Mike's tone was soft, but the words still made Ness want to flinch. He should apologise.

"S-" he tried his best to say sorry.

Sorry Mike, I didn't mean to ignore you.

"S- Mi-"

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, please don't be mad. Please.

Not a sound escaped him. His heart thudded. His mouth went dry. His eyes darted wildly around the room.

TV. Cartoons. Bright. Noisy.

Crayons. Drawings. Messy. Bright.

Window. Trees. Sun. Light. Bright. Birds. Shrill.

Abby. Frown. Sad.

Mike. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Contact. No.

Hands. His. Fidget. Stop. Still.

Ness's hands went still in his lap, despite itching to move and twitch and loosen the knot of anxiety and fear in his stomach.

"Ness, what's wrong?" Mike sounded so worried and Ness felt a stab of guilt for making them so concerned.

I'm okay, sugar. I'm sorry.

The only sound he made was a pathetic little whining sound in the back of his throat. He wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide there for the next few decades.

"Ness?" They sounded panicked now and Ness felt sick to his stomach with fear and shame and noise and-

He clapped his hands over his ears, rocking backwards and forwards. He was trembling violently and he was doing his best to blink away the tears in his eyes.

Mike and Abby exchanged a look and seemed to immediately spring into action but Ness didn't (couldn't) pay any thought to what they were doing. It didn't matter because Mike was going to make him leave any minute now. He was acting offputting and strange and Mike would want him gone and they wouldn't talk to him again because wasn't that always the way? And then he was going to have to figure out driving home while his brain kept screaming.

The room suddenly went dark. Closed curtains. Blank TV screen.

Ness tentatively removed his hands from his ears, thankful that the biggest noise had been silenced and that the room was significantly darker. He was still trembling and the distressed itch under his skin remained but at least it was better than before.

Abby ran off to her room and Ness felt his stomach drop as he turned his frightened eyes up to Mike. Of course they made Abby leave, they didn't want her here listening to her brother yell at their boyfriend. They were stood over him and the overwhelming sense of powerlessness Ness felt made his blood run cold. He tried to sink further back into the sofa, making himself look as small as possible.

Mike moved and Ness flinched. They looked heartbroken. Ness couldn't look at their face. They lowered themself to the ground to crouch on the floor in front of Ness, like they had noticed how scared he was and they were trying to ease his fear a little. But why would they do that? Weren't they supposed to be mad at him? Shouldn't the house be filled with yelling by now? Shouldn't Ness be gone?

"Sorry Ness. I should have realised something was wrong before you got all stressed about it." Mike had lowered their voice significantly, refusing to disturb the quiet. They reached for his hand but paused before they could hold it. "Is this okay?"

Ness couldn't even open his mouth to say yes, so he nodded instead. Mike took his hand and some of the tension left him, his shoulders slumping. But that didn't stop his brain screaming that something wasn't right, that Mike was upset, that everything was going to go horribly wrong.

"You...you can't talk right now, can you?" Mike wasn't saying this with judgement or contempt but Ness felt his stomach twist as he reluctantly shook his head. A couple of tears rolled down his face, he felt humiliated and far too vulnerable.

"That's okay. It's okay, I promise."

Ness's head whipped around when he heard soft socked footsteps rapidly approaching down the hall. It was only Abby though, dragging a blanket and hanging onto a dog stuffed animal. She held out her offerings to Ness which he reluctantly accepted. Mike helped settle the blanket over his shoulders. It was heavier than anticipated and the weight pressing down against him made his pulse calm down and his thoughts slow to a manageable pace. The soft toy remained sat in his lap, his free hand resting on top.

He tried to ask Abby why she had brought these things to him but he just gave her a questioning look.

"Buddy and blanket. They help when noises are too noisy." she explained, patting the dog on the head. Ness laughed a little and held Buddy close to his chest.

Mike began to pull their hand away but Ness clung onto it tightly. He felt like if he let go of Mike's hand, all this kindness and care would fade away. Mike, thankfully, just nodded and squeezed his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere." They pressed a light kiss to Ness's knuckles and their lips broke into a lopsided smile when that made Ness giggle. "Nice to see you smiling again."

Oh and despite everything, that still made Ness's heart skip a beat. His face burned and his eyes drifted down to the carpet.

"Ness is blushing!" Abby announced delightedly, but still made sure to keep her voice down for Ness's sake.

Ness felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere, something clicked everything was back to normal. He could breathe clearly again, his thoughts picking up their pace again and

Maybe. Maybe this was okay.

[studywgabi]

I'm a Method Cashier!

And this was a role I could really sink my teeth into.

Okay, so, first of all, to work at Store there are 2 online applications, an online training course, 3 questionnaires for your references to fill out, 3 interviews (2 alone and 1 group), a background check, an unpaid 4-hr. orientation, a drug test, a pacer test, a polygraph test administered by an F.B.I. agent (and not like the sexy ones on Criminal Minds), a blood oath, and you have to be able to put on lipstick like Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club. Jesus, there are less requirements to be elected president. And a cult wouldn't make you jump through this many hoops to join.

My Marketable Skills: I'm a warm body and I'm not an asshole. I'm not going to say "we should hang out outside of work" to my coworkers or mouth off to the customers. Basically, you should hire me because you could do a whole lot worse.

But I couldn't just say that. I couldn't just be honest. It had to be, with tears glistening in my eyes: "It has been my lifelong dream to be a cashier at Store. Cashiering is my passion. I have 3 Ph.D.s in Applied Cashiering, Cashiering Theory, and Experimental Cashiering from Harvard University's School of Cashiering, and I completed a postdoctoral fellowship at Oxford University's St. Cashier Cashiering College. I have 97 years of experience in the field."

So, I get there, for the first interview, in my silly little outfit, mostly stolen from my mom's closet. I walk in and say excuse me to the first employee I see. She clutches her chest, looks bewildered, and says "excuse me" back.

Gabi, apprehensively: "Hi, I'm here for an interview, could I speak to a manager please?"

Employee #1, startled: "Yeah." She walks off and I assume I'm meant to follow her.

My dead name sounds vaguely similar to the name of a character from a classic poem you read the Wikipedia summary of in ninth grade English class. The first five letters are the same, but the character's name ends with an a, and mine with an e. Anyway, while we were walking, we introduced ourselves and she said, and I've never have cause to use the word "chortling" before, but if there was ever a time, it was then, "Well, your mother must have been a big The Poet fan, huh?" (as if I've never heard that one before). I mustered a polite chuckle and said nothing.

Employee #1, sneering: "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Gabi, wishing for death: "No, I know the poem."

Employee #1, under her breath: "Big deal."

The rest of the walk is silent. We turn a corner and see a boy about my age. She starts calling his name, he fully makes eye contact with her, and then turns and speedwalks away. She keeps calling after him and picks up the pace to reach him, but he outruns her. No need to watch the documentary through your fingers, the antelope is safe this time. It turns out he wasn't even the manager, because I meet her next. The interview goes okay and I get the second one. I ask a different employee this time. She says into her walkie-talkie, "Anthony, Gabriella is here for an interview, do you want to deal with that?"

Anthony comes be-bopping up to me at 1,000 mph. When he's still several aisles away, he calls out "Hi, Friend!!" in an acoustic guitar-playing, jeans-wearing youth pastor voice. He leads me to the office, racing down the aisles like there's an serial killer revving a chainsaw behind him, and by the time I catch up in my pencil skirt and heels, I'm panting and sweating. Maybe this is part of the interview: seeing if you can keep up metaphorically and literally. The weakest shall be sacrificed.

Tony asks me, not why I want to work at Store, but why I want to work in general, as if earning money to eat is a casual hobby, like knitting. He asks me if I've applied anywhere else, like Store is a jealous girlfriend. Then he asks me if I have any questions, and I know you're supposed to have something, so I pull a couple out my ass. After he answers them, he asks if I have any more, and, thinking I'm out of the woods, I say not for now.

Anthony, ominously: "You sure?" Slowly pan back to Gabi.

Gabi, brightly: "I'm sure I'll have more during orientation if I'm hired, but I think I'm covered for now. Thank you!"

(Beat.) Anthony: "Well, you know, I'm just gonna give you some advice: you really should have more questions. But don't worry, I'm gonna go ahead and tell you a little bit more about how the Store family does things."

45 minutes later, he asks for a third set of questions, and then, believe or not, a fourth. Sir, this is my interview. You're not a celebrity guest on The Fucking Tonight Show. If you're so desperate for me to ask you questions, why don't you apply to this job? Or do like the rest of us and pretend you're on Ricki Lake talking about how brave you are to share the story of your divorce from Tim McGraw and how it inspired your new album, "Warm Regards, Gabi," currently topping the country charts while you shampoo your hair.

Three business days later, my email: "Congratulations! You have been selected to join the Store Family! Please report for orientation next Wednesday at noon."

Another day, another dollar.

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Obaasan

Bokuto x gn!reader

You just wanted to save up money before you finished high school.

Working the register at a convenience store should’ve been fairly easy, pretty straightforward.

Customers got annoyed about prices, you stood your ground that you didn’t set them and offered no discounts.

Sometimes their attitudes got to you.

But days like today made you feel like you were in the right place.

You had been ringing up an older woman- a regular you adored because she was the definition of sweet- the line behind her growing, when she suddenly tried to grab onto the counter as she got dizzy. Snapping forward, you dropped the items in your hands in favor of catching hers. You couldn’t get around the counter to assist without letting her go, many disrespectful patrons complaining about how they had to wait, when you caught sight of boys you knew from school, “Akaashi-San! Bokuto-senpai! Could you please give me some assistance?”

The old woman still had apologies spilling off her tongue as the two of them came forward- Akaashi began to offer his arm to her when Bokuto opted to scoop her off her feet. Akaashi tried to scold him, tell him it was inappropriate because he hadn’t even asked permission to touch her let alone pick her up- but you were already speaking to the woman.

“Obaasan, I’m gonna keep all of your things right back here, okay? Do you think you could ask your neighbor to come buy them for you later?” Her neighbor was a nice boy, you were pretty sure you’d seen him around school but never spoken outside of the store.

“You don’t need to do that.” Bokuto noisily, but politely, cut in, big grin on his face, “I can buy her stuff and make sure she gets home okay.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that, young man.” She offered, the four of you were essentially ignoring the annoyed customers in line.

“It’s no trouble! Just let me…” Bokuto paused, shifting a little bit before pouting at his teammate, “Akaashiiiii, I can’t reach my wallet without setting her down.”

“I am not reaching into your pocket, Bokuto.”

“But Akaashiiiiii-“

Your eyes widened, you knew what was coming as the tips of his hair started to deflate, “I can do it for you, Bokuto.”

“L/N, you really don’t have to-“

“Really? Thanks!” Bokuto cut Akaashi off, turning toward you so you could reach across the counter.

But you should’ve let him finish whining to Akaashi.

Because on assumption you shifted his bag out of the way and reached into the pocket of his sweats.

And then his face turned red, “L/N- my, uh, my wallet is in my bag.”

Recoiling like you’d been burned, you shooed them away from the counter, shoving the bags into Akaashi’s arms, “On second thought I’ll just ring it up for the manager as a tab! Just send your neighbor over to pay the bill when you can, Obaasan!” You ushered them out the door, your face on fire, but you only had a moment for self pity before the grumbling line made their annoyance known.

When you got to school the next morning, you had marginally forgot about your accidental groping of the volleyball team’s star player.

At least until you saw him on the way to lunch.

You immediately spun around, trying to avoid the conversation, what was he even doing here? This is the second year hallway!

“L/N!” His voice called, of course someone his height could find you in the crowd. “Wait!”

Heaving a breath, you halted your steps, there was no point in trying to avoid or outrun him. He definitely had a physical advantage over you, and his best friend was in your class. There would be no escape. It was better to just deal with the awkwardness. Let him yell at you- or whatever someone as genuinely nice as him would do.

So you stood, waiting for him to catch up- and it seemed like it only took him three steps to make it to your side.

“Is your grandma okay?”

Your face screwed up in confusion, your grandmother? How did he know your grandmother? “Uh, she’s fine? I mean i haven’t spoken to her since Sunday dinner and it’s Friday now but-“

“Wasn’t she at the store last night?” His gold eyes were wide, confusion and curiosity mixing, but you finally understood what he meant.

“Oh! Oh, no! She wasn’t-“ you laughed, “Obaasan isn’t my grandma. She’s just a regular at the store, sometimes on my days off I’ll help her around the house. She only lives like a block from me. She’s kind of… my grandma who’s not my grandma? Does that make sense?”

Bokuto laughed, as long and loud as he usually did, “I get it- she was really nice! Kept talking about how sweet you are when I was helping her home.”

Why did his ears turn red?

“She likes to embellish,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the embarrassment of her clearly trying to set you up.

“Bokuto-San.” Akaashi approached from his classroom, “Did you remember to give it to them?”

“Oh! Right!” He pulled an envelope and a container out of his bag, “She wanted me to give this to you, since we’d see you today. The money for her shopping, and some cookies she wanted you to have.”

“Oh, no way! Her cookies are legendary!” You nearly crushed the container to your chest before you caught yourself, “Would you guys like to… share them with me?”

“I’m okay, thank you L/N-san. Bokuto, you go ahead. I’ll see you at practice.”

Bokuto flushed deeper as Akaashi waved, walking away before the spiker could stop him.

When the regular came in again, she had Bokuto with her. “Y/N! Sweetie, your boyfriend has been so helpful.”

“My- HUH!?” You’re face erupted, befuddlement filling you.

Bokuto pouted at her, even as she hugged his arm to walk, “I told you I haven’t confessed yet!” His eyes widened, “I mean- not that I would- no, I mean- dang it!”

“Language, mago.” She sternly tapped his hand, “And you promised you would! It was why I gave you the cookies!”

He swiftly guided her down an aisle, but didn’t take into account how his voice traveled, “I know, I know, but we were finally actually talking! I couldn’t do it. People don’t… people think I’m too much.”

“Nonsense, sweetheart. You are a catch. The right person will know that, just as your friend does.” You could hear her soothing voice over the quiet music your manager played through the store, “You need to take the chance- just as you do in that sport you play! You told me about taking the risk to perform a dump, right?”

“But that’s different.” Bokuto argued, “Volleyball is what people expect of me. Outside of that, I’m just the loud idiot.”

“No, you aren’t.” You heard something fall, rounding the corner to see him stacking boxes back on a shelf before you continued, “Bokuto-senpai, you may be loud, but you’re also empathetic. Kind. Compassionate. You helped Obaasan when all the other customers just complained that she was holding them up. That’s so much more important than whether or not you understand what an inside voice is or if you need a tutor. Academics can be hard, but it doesn’t discount the kind of person you are.”

Your neighbor patted his hand again, “Take the risk, dearie. I think you’ll realize it’s worth it.”

“Yeah… maybe it is.” Bokuto gave you a shy smile, shyer than you knew possible for him.

Obaasan was one smooth woman.

Masterlist

[winterwump]

Hii ? Could you do some gun x reader x goo nsfw pls ? I love them sm 💞💞

💦Good Things Cum in 3’s💦

Summary: For this fic, you my dear reader, are a luxury escort. Like you are expansive so of course these two pay for a night with you. Oh, and your sex worker name is Kitty in this!

Note: Heads up, this is a long one. 1,600 words long to be exact. I’m aware of this lol. I just have a lot to say when writing these two.

Au: I hope you guys enjoy thissss🤍🤍🤍

*Ting!!!*

A familiar chime came from your phone. For a Friday night, it was rather slow for you so you decided to stay home and lounge, it's not like anyone would request you now. Initially, you paid no mind to the chime of your phone because you were too busy watching some brain-melting variety show, but after a good two minutes of ignoring the chime, a call came through. It was from a private number which indicated that this was a client.

“Fuck!!”, you gasped half-annoyed-half-surprised. Time to put on your *business* voice: “Hello~ you’ve reached Kitty, how can I help you?~”

“Now you pick up?” - the voice on the line sighed - “Whatever, are your services available tonight?”

You chose to ignore that hint of attitude - “Of course my sources are available!! How many people am I servicing?” - You said the last part through lightly-gritted teeth. The noise in the background sounded like at least 5 people.

“Just two. Is $20,000 okay for the whole night?” - His tone, though inquisitive, still had an air of confidence to it.

Your breath hitched slightly at the sheer weight of that number because even though you get paid quite a lot doing this job, you’ve never seen anything over $1,000 in one night. Oh yea, this man had money for sure. Realizing that you hadn’t given him a response yet, you begin to fumble over yourself to get a response to such a good offer. After running through your apartment looking for something to write info down on you finally managed an answer:

“$20,000?!?! Tha-that's more than good, Sir. Just give me the details and I’ll be ov-” - As soon as you clicked your pen to begin writing, the man cut you off.

“No need for that. I’ll send someone to pick you up from your place. I don’t want you on the subway at night.”

In your time as an escort, you’ve never been above driving to see clients or taking the metro, so long as the money was good. But sending a driver? Oh, that was classy. Now that you’ve picked your jaw off the floor, you finally spoke again:

“What a gentleman!! Let me give you my info, and I’ll be ready soon. We can discuss payment in person.” 

“Sounds good to me” - The man on the line affirmed, he sounded amused already.

After the quick exchange of info on your part, and the exchange of names, you hung up and began primping yourself for the night ahead of you. The look you chose had a simple yet sultry kind of vibe in both makeup and clothing. This kind of look was your go-to for very good reason, it attracts many high-paying customers clearly. In an act of serendipity, the second you were done getting ready, the ride sent for you had arrived. And yea, this was the real deal alright.

He’d sent a black Rolls Royce Phantom with tinted windows, it was perfect for sneaking around in the dead of night. The stoned-faced driver helped you in and the ride had commenced. The drive itself wasn't long but God did it feel like it. What with your nerves and all. $20,000?! That was all your mind kept repeating. That was an absurd amount of money to drop on a single escort for a single night!! Your mind couldn’t help but want into unsavory places: ‘What exactly would they make you do? Are they gonna…hurt you?’

Before your mind could fully expound on that horrid line of thought, the driver had opened your door and motioned politely for you to get out. Still frazzled, you took the driver’s held-out hand and got to your feet. The flawless steel building before you made you gulp in shaky anticipation. After thanking the driver appropriately, you made your way to your destination

And getting up there really didn’t take as much time as you thought it was. The pre-work jitters always hit you, but this time was different. With a sigh and your money-making smile plastered on your face, you began to ring the doorbell. The man on the phone said his name was Gun, but this clearly wasn’t him. The man that greeted you at the door was a blonde in one of those hard-on-the-eyes golden Versace robes, he grinned:

"Well hello there. Are you Kitty?" - Despite being obviously tipsy, his voice was smooth.

So you were at the right place. - "That’s me!! You’re not Gun, are you?"- Being the performer you are, you matched his tone.

With a hearty laugh, the blonde let you in and tailed behind you as you made your way to the foyer. "Nope!!, Gun's right there." - He pointed at the lounging on the sectional couch - "I'm Goo."

Looking back and forth between the two men, you knew you were in for a trip tonight. 

The three of you wasted little time no in getting the party started after a few drinks. With your head already spinning from the liquor, you found yourself laid out on the soft expanse of the bed with Gun's head between your already shaking legs, and Goo at your side lining your bare neck in hickies and kisses. You went back and forth between whining softly, and moaning wildly as waves of pleasure washed over you when Gun pressed his tongue into the tight heat of your pussy.

Seeming to want attention on him, Goo got what he wanted when he whispered in your ear: "You should put that pretty mouth to use and suck me off, Babe."

His voice sent a shiver down your spine and after giving Goo a demure nod, you were presented with a mouth-wateringly erect cock. You hungrily eyed the length in front of you and felt your well-tended-to pussy throbbed. Goo rest a hand on your head and guided your lips to his blushed tip, and watched as you began to work your mouth around his length. The initial heat of your tongue drew out a breathy moan from the blonde, he gripped your hair and it made your pussy throb even more.

Feeling just how wanton your pussy was, Gun gave your clit one last languid lick before pulling away to tend to his own erection. You had no time to protest the loss of his tongue, because he replaced it with the even more pleasurable sensation of his cock rubbing along your rosy folds. The way you moaned around Goo's cock in response to Gun's teasing was downright sinful, and it wasn’t lost on either of them that you were getting close to cumming already. This was clearly their plan, and you were all for it.

"Go ahead and cum, Baby, we’re just getting started" - Goo cooed affectionately, giving you a little 'boop' on the nose before shoving his cock further down your throat.

From looking up at Goo, you let your mind wander to Gun as he massaged the tip of his cock at your leaking entrance. You couldn’t help but wonder how he would sound while deep in pleasure, he'd been quiet so far and you just needed to know what he was like unravelled. Right as your jaw was beginning to slack from taking Goo's impressive length, you felt your inner walls be invaded in the best way possible by Gun's cock. The intrusion was a welcome one, as he let out a guttural moan upon feeling your tightness.

The way you kept moaning served well in turning Goo on even more. The blond was sure that he was going to cum soon if this kept up, so he grabbed your hair and began to use your throat. You were drooling at this point, but it seemed like Goo loved the wet noises that accompanied your throat being fucked. 

"Come on baby, I you can take it!" - Goo encouraged amidst your gagging.

Seeming to be on the wavelength as the blonde, Gun took on a brutal pace- holding your hips till while pounding your obscenely wet pussy. Between your throat being thoroughly fucked by Goo and the punishing thrusts from Gun, you were starting to get overstimulated. But it was welcomed in this case because you were cumming in quick succession without the two men giving you so much as a break in between your dramatic orgasms. The first orgasm of the night, aside from your own, was from Gun when he had broken his rough tempo to pull out of your now gaping entrance and painted both your back and ass with his cum. His moans were heavenly, and it seemed like Goo agreed because you heard a moan leave his mouth in reaction. Did they ever?...

You heard them laugh amongst each other when they switched positions, your body was somehow loose and noodley but your pussy remained tight for them. And through your lust-filled haze, you found yourself laughing at the contrast too. From riding Goo till you squirted on his stomach to Gun covering you in hickies during missionary, you were still needy for more. You had no concept of how much time has passed, everything that wasn’t the two men had melted into obscurity. It was safe to say that you were thoroughly fucked-out for the night.

This was the best $20k you've ever made.

Damn, 1,600 words!! Sheesh, I hope ya'll enjoyed this cuz I sure did.

The place I had in mind for Gun and Goo's penthouse was JiPyung's house from the Kdrama "Start-Up". Cuz I just know that those idiots live together😏

BYE!!!

[fuck-customers]

I talked about my ordeals with who I dubbed Stalker Boy a while back, since I still don't know his last name (it took me about 6 months to find out his first name, since he decided to start stalking me at work after seeing me there once) but this isn't about him lol.

This time, the stalker wasn't here for me, he was after my coworker I'll call C. For context, C is barely 19 and tiny, and generally looks even younger than she is.

Well a couple weeks ago (the week after Mario came out), she was walking around in the back with a manager doing whatever, and this guy, who was about 40, and also roughly 6ft 5, was following them. After a while, the manager stepped away and the guy used the opportunity to corner C. And you'll never guess what he says.

Creep: "Hey, I think you're really attractive. How much would I have to pay you to have sex with me?"

C ended up kinda staring at him and saying "I can't disclose that information" because she didn't know what else to do.

Luckily the manager who'd walked away got a bad feeling and came to get her. C filled in the manager but the guy had disappeared, so they had C shut herself in the break room (where I was on my lunch) until they could find him and remove him from the building.

After I come back from lunch, I go back to working door (taking tickets), and keep my eye out for the creep, which was hard because I never actually saw him.

(Seriously dude, I have a lot of respect for sex workers, but what the fuck makes for think that's an appropriate conversion starter, let alone using it on a teenager half your age and size that you cornered while she's sweeping up popcorn???)

Fast forward a couple days. We had what I was told was a glitch, but I think was actually human error, but we ended up having three shows, in the span of roughly an hour, for Mario where two shows had been created for each time slot in the same room. So it was crazy busy since they sold out and twice as many people showed up as expected. And since there were two tickets per seat, we had to implement system for explaining what was going on to people as they come in and establishing who gets the seat and who gets a refund, and it was just a huge mess. One of the shows, the first one that was double booked, had 250 seats, meaning there were 500 people there for it. And guess who decided to use the confusion to sneak back in.

So I finally managed to get to the end of the line, but the managers were still at the service desk trying to do refunds, and I hear one of the newer girls radio about a creepy guy who was standing inside the doors to the auditoriums and just staring. I'll call her N. N, like me, is butch, and I'm not sure if Creeper realized she's a woman, or if he was just only interested in C. Here's a helpful artistic rendering of what N was seeing.

(Not pictured: being in shadows because he was standing in a dark room)

At this point, we had no way of knowing that it was the same guy, but she kind of walked away, and when she came back a few minutes later, he was still there, though he later started moving to other auditoriums and doing the same thing. C was actually there that day but was on lunch.

So N was radio'ing about needing help dealing with a weird guy who's movie-hopping, and she said he was getting really aggressive when she asked him what he was doing. The managers kind of just waved N off (over the radio), saying that they were busy, and told her to deal with it the best she could. I was getting bad vibes, so I walked over to tell the managers directly that they need to go help N. I'm working the front door so I'm not actually allowed to leave the little area, but luckily, the service desk is right on the edge of my area.

And one of the managers snapped at me as soon as I got two words out and said "We're we're with customers, you know better than to interrupt". Which, they're right. I've worked here longer than both of them combined. I know damn well how things work and I follow the rules, so if I'm suddenly not doing that, it's because I have a fucking reason, m'kay?

N managed to summon enough guys from the cleaning crew to help her herd the guy to the front, at which point the manager who'd kicked Creeper out last time recognized him and realized how serious it was (she's not the one that snapped at me) and she kicked him out again.

Because I don't know why this guy would be hiding in dark rooms and watching and waiting, unless he was waiting for C to walk by so he could do god knows what to her.

And then about 10 minutes later, one of the managers who snapped at me came over and was like "did they tell you about The Guy?" And I just stared at him and said "*I* was trying to tell *you* about The Guy, and you told me to go away." And he didn't say sorry or anything, which is what I expected.

And then apparently Creeper came back two more times later in the week on days I wasn't there and on the fourth time, the manager had finally decided enough was enough and called the cops and he ended up getting arrested. So I hope that's the last we'll see of him but I'm not going to hold my breath.