#she thought she was gonna waltz out of school with my twenty dollars?

[mins-fins]

still holding a grudge idc idc

how do you steal my money, see my ask about it, lie about it, see me cry about it, then get CAUGHT ON CAMERA STEALING MY MONEY???

girlie should be ashamed

[doctorstethoscope]

In the Garden || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

hello babes! Something a little different today-- I didn’t have time to write a request that I was going to be pleased with, so this is something that’s been sitting in my drive for a while. Hope you like it! 

Submit requests here! 

contains: sexual innuendo, gun mention

wordcount: 2.4k

You can’t remember the last time you wore a dress, much less a gown like the one JJ was zipping you into now-- dresses weren’t practical for field work with the BAU, and even when you’d worked in the counterterrorism unit, you’d much preferred a professional blouse and pair of slacks. But the First Lady had decided to throw a ball in the White House to celebrate federal employees, and the Bureau was receiving an award, which the Director had hand-picked the BAU to accept. So, gown. Even though you’d much prefer to be changing into a pair of sweats-- you had been called on a case two days before the ball, and Garcia saved the day by running to everyone’s apartments and grabbing their nice clothes so you all wouldn’t be late. Which is how you found yourself squeezing into a sleek off the shoulder number in the Batcave, with Emily batting at your face with a makeup brush and JJ tugging at your zipper. 

“Babe, you look hot.” Penelope says as Emily and JJ step away from you, admiring their work. 

“All Emily’s work,” you deflected with a shy smile. 

“We’ll have that fight when we’re not running late,” Emily said, pulling you out of Garcia’s office, she and JJ not far behind. 

Derek let out a wolf whistle when he saw you all approaching, and you heard JJ’s windchime laugh from a few steps behind. 

“Hello ladies,” he said with an exaggerated leer. 

“Derek Morgan, you’re lucky that my thigh holster doesn’t go with this dress.” Emily spits out, and all of you burst out in laughter. 

“Chocolate thunder, you clean up good,” Garcia says, crossing to Derek, who moved to put his arm around her shoulders as Reid emerged into the bullpen. 

“Speaking of cleaning up good,” JJ says with a small smile, and you catch Reid blushing. 

“Did you know that balls like this can cost American taxpayers up to a million dollars?” He asks the group, and you smile.

“Maybe don’t mention that when the first lady gives us the award, yeah Spence?” You tease, and he treats you to a little chuckle.

You hear Hotch before you turn to see him and Rossi. “Alright, let’s go,” He says, leading the group out of the BAU and towards your SUVs. You end up in the passenger seat of the car Rossi is driving. 

“You doing okay, kid? You’re awful quiet this evening. Invitations to Federal Government Prom don’t come often, you know.” He smirks, and you half-ass a smile in return. 

“Yeah, I’m okay, Rossi. Just tired, you know. Would have preferred to get a night’s sleep in my own bed before we did this, you know?” 

He nods, but there’s no use in lying to a profiler. 

The food, you have to admit, is leagues better than the instant ramen you would have cooked up if you had gone home tonight. And the conversation isn’t half bad either, you admit to yourself as you lazily flirt with Paul, a junior fellow from the Department of Health and Human Services, just barely putting in enough effort to seem interested while allowing your mind to wander.

The sensation of a warm hand in between your exposed shoulder blades distracts you from your train of thought. 

“Excuse me,” Aaron’s deep baritone interrupts Paul’s nervous tenor. “I’d like to cut in for a dance, if you don’t mind.”

Paul sputters, and you laugh, because you know that Aaron was asking you, not this early-thirties politico type that he towered over, both physically and morally. 

“We’ll catch up later?” you said to Paul, with absolutely no intent to catch up later, before Aaron led you out to the dance floor. 

“Hotch, I’m gonna step on your feet.” You warned. 

“No you won’t,” he assures you. “Follow my lead.” 

You do as you’re told, and you’re surprised to realize just how easy it is to follow him, anywhere. 

“Aaron Hotchner, when on Earth did you learn to ballroom dance?” You asked incredulously. 

“Boarding school,” He answers with an easy smile.

“You’re joking,” you accuse. 

“Ah, yes, something I’m known to do.”

“You remain a mystery, Hotchner.”  You tell him.

“I don’t know. That might have been my last secret.” 

You roll your eyes, content to continue dancing, and finding yourself getting distracted again. 

“What are you thinking about?” Aaron asks, and you mentally curse yourself for letting your guard down in front of your boss. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. But really grateful to be here, of course, and--”

“I wasn’t asking as your boss, you can stand down,” He smirks, dipping you quickly and it takes your breath away. “You’re thinking of leaving.” He says as he lifts you back up, and it’s not a question. 

“How did you-- I can’t believe-- Damn profilers.” You harrumphed. 

“You’ve been distant, the past couple weeks. You’re in your early twenties accepting an award at the White House, by all accounts you should be ecstatic. That’s when I knew something was wrong. And when I saw you with Peter, or whatever his name was, who you couldn’t be less interested in, that’s when I knew it was us.” 

“See, and that’s exactly why I need to leave. Because I’ll never be able to do that.” You tell him, finally looking him in the eye.

“You will,”  He says in a self-assured tone that does nothing to assuage your anxiety.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. 

“I do.” 

“Maybe I’m not good enough, Hotch.” You confess carelessly. He’s already figured you out. Might as well fess up to your deepest insecurities while your boss holds you and stares you down with his deep brown eyes in the middle of the East Room.

“You are,” he says in that same tone, that you’re sure is supposed to be calming but is only infuriating. 

“But maybe I’m not! Maybe I’m one of those people who always wanted to do it, who always wanted to be an agent, but it’s like a pipe dream for me. I don’t contribute to the team the same way everyone else does. I don’t pick up on the things that seem so obvious to all of you, and it sucks. I can still do good work, but you know-- you change your dreams and you grow up. Maybe I’m one of those people and I’m just not supposed to be here. I just can’t stay knowing that I’m not supposed to be here-- I have to leave.” You’re not even sure if your soliloquy makes any sense, but Aaron pulls you a little closer, so he can speak the next few words lowly, directly into your ear. 

“You’ve been here eight months. It takes time. You are an incredible agent, and an asset to this team. I don’t need another profiler that sees the same things we all see-- I need you, and your observations, the things we missed-- those are the things that solve cases. I can’t-- I can’t allow you to change your dream. I can’t let you leave. I need you here.” 

You let his words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks again. 

“The, uh-- the team needs you. We all need you, and your observations, is what I meant.” He stammers. 

“Hotch?’ You ask, confused by the sudden change in tone. 

“Do you want to go get some fresh air? Get away from the crowd?” He asks, pulling away to look at you, and there’s an invitation in his eyes. Maybe a more seasoned profiler would know exactly what it was, but you were excited to find out nonetheless.  

“Yeah, I think I do.”

You’re certain that you’re breaking some sort of law as Hotch pulls you out of the ballroom and down a hallway, his fingers interlocked with yours. You try not to think about it too much. Your heels click against the marble floors as you follow Aaron’s brisk pace, and eventually he finds a door outside, opening it up and allowing you to pass through it first. It takes a minute to place yourself, especially under the cover of night, but after a moment you realize you’re in the rose garden. 

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” You say under your breath with a little laugh as you look out over the sprawling display of flowers and plants. 

“It definitely beats the Quantico courtyard,” Aaron agrees.

“Never thought I’d make it there, either.” You confess, not looking at him.

“But you did. It wasn’t meant to be easy, but you made it, and you’ll grow. You just need time.” He tells you. 

“How can you be so sure?” You ask, feeling your eyes well up. 

“I was young once, too.” He tells you with a self-deprecating grin. 

“You can’t play up the wise, ancient elder with me, Hotch. I’ve seen you chase Jack across a soccer field like you’re still in your twenties.” You laugh, but he can hear the emotions behind it.

“Hey, come on, I mean it. I’m not Rossi, but I’ve got my fair dose of wisdom to share,” he says, moving closer to you and placing a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Let’s keep dancing. If you want to talk, you can talk. But you thought you couldn’t dance, and you could dance, right? So we can keep doing that until you believe me.” He said, pulling your hand up in his and placing his other on your waist. 

The two of you moved slowly, the orchestra from inside only barely audible from where you were standing. With Hotch’s bad ear, he could really only hear it when his body was angled just right in the direction of the East Room, but somehow he had perfect rhythm regardless. You move in silence for a song or two or three before Hotch speaks up again. 

“I lied to you, earlier.” He confesses, still guiding you effortlessly through a simple waltz. 

“How do you mean?” You ask, suddenly nervous that you were right, that you’re a complete failure of an agent, and that you need to pack your bags and head on back to Kansas.

“I lied when I said that I’d told you my last secret.”

“Oh,” you said, too caught up in your own head to try to understand what he was saying.

“And I lied when I told you that I meant the team needed you--” you felt that bone-crushing weight on your soul again-- “we do, of course, but that’s not what I meant.” 

“Hotchner, what are you talking about?” You finally asked, no longer able to tolerate the emotional whiplash of his conversation.

“When I said I needed you, I meant it.” 

“Oh,” you say, your face a portrait of shock and confusion, even though you understood him completely. 

“That’s selfish of me as a person, and wrong of me as your superior, and maybe that means that I’m outing myself as the kind of fucked-up person that isn’t worth another second of your time, but I needed you to know.” He stops dancing now, tries to hedge a bit of space between you without letting you go entirely. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, clinging to him more tightly as he pulls away, feeling his jacket wrinkle under your fingernails. 

“Yes?” he whispers back. 

“I’m glad you told me,” you tell him, and that’s all the permission he needs to take your face in both of your hands and kiss you, with a gentleness that makes you feel like spun gold, with the reverence of a man who knows that love is not a game, with the hunger of one who has been starved for months. 

He pulls away from you, too soon, and your eyes are wet. “My resignation will be on your desk by Monday morning.”

He takes a step away. “What do you--” 

“Goodnight, Aaron,” You tell him with a sad little smile, turning around towards the door you came from and leaving him in the garden.

You’re drowning your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s when the doorbell rings the next day. You swing the door open grumpily, to reveal Aaron. 

“It’s Saturday, and you can’t turn in your resignation until 9am Monday. What can I do in the next forty eight hours to convince you that you belong here?” Aaron asks, still standing in the hall of your apartment complex.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. You can’t give him what he wants, but you won’t have this argument where all the neighbors will hear, either. “It’s too late, Hotch.”

“It’s not too late,” he argues, checking his watch. “I have forty six hours and thirteen minutes.”

“I’ll still be the girl who got this job on her back forty six hours from now.” You tell him, folding your arms.

“You’ll be what?” He asks, incredulous. 

“I know that you heard me loud and clear. 

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know that you slept with Erin Strauss. I didn’t think you were her type.” He says, and you let out an exasperated sigh. 

“You’re absolutely incorrigible!” You cry out. 

“Who implied that you got this job on anything other than your own merit?” Aaron asks, a glint in his eye that lets you know that they’ll be handled just as soon as he gets you to shred the letter of resignation you drafted last night.

“Didn’t I? You didn’t clear my promotion because you were attracted to me?” You asked.

“I cleared your promotion before we even met-- your interview was a bureau formality. Your reputation and the glowing recommendations from your peers in counterterrorism spoke volumes.”  He assures you.

“Oh,” you let out, your anger deflating. 

“If you want to leave because of my inappropriate behavior, please reconsider. I’m incredibly sorry for--” He starts, but you cut him off, placing your hands on his face and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. Please continue to be inappropriate,” you tell him in between kisses. 

He smiles as he continues to place kisses across your face, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “Right now?” He asks, slipping a hand underneath your shirt.  “You want me to be inappropriate right now?” 

“If you’re really good at it, I’ll let you tear up my resignation yourself.” 

@romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @rousethemouse @scuttling

[alwayshaveneverholdd]

As Long As It Takes Chapter 1

SO I’m just experimenting and seeing where this will go! I hope someone likes it lol. 

VernonxOC with side CoupsxOC

She was twenty-two, and she had seen things beyond any average Joe’s wildest imagination.

It started with a stock market crash, leading to the demise of many more lives than originally thought. Specifically hers. Nothing terrible had happened at that point, but it did cause her parents to give her and her sister up to an adoption agency. Not long after, they were split up, she being shipped to South Korea, their mother’s homeland. But she doesn’t like to think about that.

“Unnie!” Iseul called, eyes wide with a hunger she frequently saw whenever attractive customers were on the premises. She usually didn’t notice them since she was absorbed in her work. Iseul always did, though. And she knew that.

Even though she was only four years younger, Jangmi always saw Iseul as a kid. Iseul was a spunky eighteen-year-old waitress finishing up her senior year of high school. She frequently made suicide jokes because the workload was so much, but Jangmi knew never to take her seriously. Since they both spoke English well, they used it with each other, frequently annoying their co-workers.

“Hm?” She barely looked up from the garlic albacore roll she was preparing. Jangmi found pride in the fact that her restaurant was popular among the young people who wanted western-type sushi, something rarely practiced in Korea. It wasn’t technically her restaurant, but she’d worked there for six long years. That place wouldn’t be what it was without her.

Iseul leaned over the sushi bar, past a couple who was uncomfortable at how close she was. “Table four!” she hissed.

This happens every time, she thought. With a dramatic sigh, Jangmi pulled her head up and swiveled it toward the aforementioned table. Typically, there would be some attractive guys but nothing like the five that made her do a double-take. It wasn’t just their looks, either. There was clearly an air of confidence, brotherhood, loyalty. All things that she admired. She did notice, however, that they were much younger than her. At least two to five years. Sometimes, Iseul would pick guys closer to Jangmi’s age. It worked out, she got laid, everyone won. But that was only sometimes, and this one not one of them. She shook her head, wrapping the roll in the paper mat and grabbing her knife.

“Yes, they’re extremely attractive and I probably babysat them in junior high. All yours.”

Isuel smirked. “You see the one with kind-of sharp features?” She didn’t bother looking up. “He goes to my school, so they’re all probably around my age.” When she did look up, Iseul winked. “Wish me luck!”

She sighed as the young girl swayed away. “Yeah, sure,” she mumbled while mise-en-placing. “Just flirt your way into the top universities. That’ll get you places.”

Iseul frequently flirted with the cute customers, but she only did it for fun. She never wanted or expected it to go anywhere. Jangmi knew this as well, so her flirting with them didn’t phase her. It still didn’t bother her that much when she came back to get their drink orders after an unprofessionally long conversation and said that she learned their names and that the oldest one- two years older than her and two years younger than Jangmi -was flirting back. But when she looked up to find Iseul pointing to the sushi bar, the piercing gazes of the young boys following, she wanted to hide.

Her cheeks pinked as she looked back down at her board. What was she just doing? She couldn’t seem to remember. It was hard to get a good look at them- but it’s not like she wanted to. They were children. They were children and she was a grown ass woman who was too old for them. Besides the one Iseul took a particular liking to. But she didn’t think it was that one. The one that caught her eye looked especially young, maybe around sixteen. It made her cringe to think about her sick attraction to a minor. It was illegal. She could see the headlines. LOCAL SUSHI CHEF CHARGED WITH COUNTS OF PEDOPHILIA. She would be a registered sex offender for the rest of her life.

“Hey!”

She started at this, completely lost in her thoughts. “What?!”

Iseul raised an eyebrow. “You’ve just been standing there for like ten minutes. Come on, we’re busy.” Then she smirked once more, clearly a trend for that day, and slid an all-you-can-eat paper over the top of the glass case. “They’re growing boys. They need to become beefy.”

“Get outta here,” She laughed, waving her off with the paper. Her eyes widened once they rested on it. The boys really did order a lot. It was time to get to work.

“언니! Look!” After the long work day, Jangmi was unhooking her sushi chef headband. Iseul’s voice was unusually shocked with a twinge of excitement. “He actually gave me his number!” She flapped a receipt under her senior’s face. “And a twenty dollar tip!”

She tilted her head. “Who?”

“That guy! The older one from earlier?” Iseul looked down at the receipt again, reading the sloppy handwriting. “S… coups? S.Coups?”

For reasons unbeknownst to her, Jangmi snorted. “That’s an odd name.”

“Fuck off, he’s cute.”

It was silent for a moment as Iseul hung up her apron and Jangmi picked up her purse. “You gonna call him?”

“I don’t know… Should I?”

“Well, I mean, yeah.”

“But what if he thinks I’m annoying?”

“He left you his number for a reason!”

“So? He could’ve just been being nice.”

She scoffed. “Okay, Iseul, listen to me very carefully.” Jangmi took in a long breath. “Guys aren’t nice to girls unless they like them. That’s a fact.”

Iseul toyed with the idea uncomfortably. She knew that Jangmi was not only right, but had four years of experience on her. Even so, her insecurities made the situation more complicated than needed. “I’ll think about it,” she muttered, grabbing her small black backpack. “See you tomorrow, 언니.” She bowed respectfully before pushing the glass door open.

Jangmi sighed. She worried about Iseul, sometimes. She never opened herself up to love. But Jangmi figured most people didn’t. Even she was guilty of that. Occasional one night stands were the only way she’d let herself connect to another person in that way. She knew it didn’t mean anything. And that’s what made it okay.

Another day, another penny, another lonely night spent drinking wine and looking at the Seoul skyline from her apartment balcony. She teased a cigarette between her fingers, never being able to break the habit that formed at the ripe age of thirteen. The twinkling lights staring back at her were almost therapeutic. God knew she needed something like that.

All night, she couldn’t stop thinking about that kid. But morning came, and she had pushed him to the back of her mind; forgotten. I’ll probably never see him again, she thought.

Hah.

A few days later was a Monday, the worst kind for Iseul. It meant getting up at six so she could get to school by eight. She wasn’t as reluctant that morning, though. She had a connection to that guy which meant she didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of calling him. She didn’t remember his name, but he was in her homeroom class.

The teacher sat bored at her desk, clearly pondering the worth of her dead-end career. Iseul stood jittery next to her desk, already having set down her things. She was the first one there. He usually got there pretty fast as well, but as more kids trickled into the room, she stared out the big windows with disappointment. “Where is he?”

After what felt like an hour, the smiley guy waltzed in, clearly exhausted but happy as ever. “Hey!” she called him over. He looked a bit confused, but he was a friendly guy. He just figured she wanted to ask something. He wasn’t wrong. But as he got closer, he recognized her.

“Hey, you’re the waitress from Friday.”

She beamed, happy that he remembered. “I sure am. Um, listen. I just wanted to ask about one of your friends…”

“S.Coups, right?”

She stopped, the very definition of a deer in headlights. “Oh, well, um…”

He laughed. It was big and appreciative, echoing through the room. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone, though. He was a renowned happy virus. “Yeah, he said he was leaving your number. Actually made a bet that you’d call.”

“What?” The sudden change in Iseul’s tone made his eyes widen. She scoffed. “So he thinks I’m so desperate that I’d call a random customer who leaves his number? I mean, he’s right… But does he seriously think he’s so special? Well he’s got another thing coming!” She yanked the receipt out of her pocket.

He began waving his hands. “Wait, that’s not-”

“I can’t believe I even considered calling that jerk.” She tore the paper into a million pieces. “He’s still hot, but… god, how embarrassing.”

“I don’t think you understand-”

“No, no. It’s fine. Not your fault. Seokmin, right? It’s fine.” She started back toward her desk, humiliation pooling in her stomach.

Seokmin felt awful. Coups hadn’t meant the bet to be that way, although he could be cocky sometimes. He wanted to straighten things out with Iseul, but just as she sat down, the bell rang for class to start. I’ll tell her tomorrow, he thought.

Jangmi went into work the following week expecting the same things. Same coworkers, same rush hour, same equipment. Her life seemed to be a never ending carousel of work and sleep, round and round it went. Where was it heading? Nowhere. She began to tire of it. She longed for change.

“Table or sushi bar?” She must’ve overheard Iseul and the other waiters ask this about a hundred times a day. But for some reason, that time, she looked up to see the customers. Her eyes locked with warm pools of hazel, sending her heart into a beating frenzy. It was that damn kid again. The group was smaller, though. It was the kid, the oldest one from last time, and one she’d never seen. He looked familiar, but she saw so many faces everyday that it could’ve just been a resemblance.

She ducked her head when he smiled shyly at her, focusing on the seaweed she was marinating in sesame oil. His smile was too much for her. Last time, she caught him laughing a couple times and almost died. “Will you be doing all-you-can-eat today?” The question sounded alarmingly close, almost right in her ear. She glanced up, startled at the three boys sitting right in front of her.

“Jesus…”

“Spooked?” Iseul teased, winking and going to get some all-you-can-eat papers.

Jangmi winced, replying dryly. “Ahahahahaha.” She sighed at the orders in front of her. “You’re so funny…”

“Hey,” Iseul recoiled at the feeling of someone touching her, not expecting it to be S.Coups at all. “You totally blew me off last week.” He gave her puppy dog eyes, a cutesy manipulation tactic he often used to get his way with women. His plump lips were jutted out in a pout before he smiled at her, a small laugh escaping his lips.

She didn’t know what to do. She literally just stood there, hyper-aware of not only his gaze, but his friends’ and Jangmi’s. “Oh, I…” Words tried coming out, but she kept fumbling over them. “I lost the paper thing. I mean, I didn’t lose it. I tore it up. But that’s just because I misunderstood!” She started rambling, talking so fast that S.Coups could barely understand her. “But then Seokmin explained it and it’s all okay now but I still didn’t have your number and I just…” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry.”

At first, he was baffled. Of course, all the while fanboying inside. He loved making girls nervous, especially ones he was interested in. He burst out in laughter, taking one of her hands and squeezing it. “You’re so cute!” Her initial reaction was to pull away, but somehow under his eyes and the way his mouth was opened in a wide grin all because of her, she just couldn’t.

A small smile fought it’s way to her face. She looked at the ground for a second before returning to him. “I should probably go get your drinks.”

“And your number, I hope?” The disrespectful bugger bit his lower lip, somehow still smiling a bit after he asked this, causing Jangmi’s jaw to drop as Iseul scurried away.

“Oh, man…” She shook her head, slicing a roll. “We’ve got a Casanova on our hands.”

The kid giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. She looked up at him with a smile, wondering if he spoke English. He must, she reasoned. How else would he understand what I’m saying? He smiled back, but quickly became self-conscious and looked down at the table. When she returned to her work, shaking the smile off her face, his gaze returned.

He couldn’t help but stare at her. He thought she was a very beautiful woman, but it wasn’t that that attracted him to her. She had an air of maturity, knowledge, life experience. All things he wanted. Things he wanted to be taught from someone older than him, someone who could help him grow without trying.

He wanted it to be her.

It was clear to him that she was older, and that did make him nervous. But she seemed kind. He needed that kind of energy. Things were stressful since he and the boys were about to debut in a few months. They stayed up all night practicing, sometimes not getting sleep for as much as thirty-six hours.

“Excuse me.” Jangmi looked up at the familiar boy sitting between the two others. “Do I know you?”

She tilted her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. I was thinking you look familiar-”

“Wait!” His eyes lit up, finally recognizing his old babysitter. “I got it! Victoria!”

Her heart sank into her stomach at the mention of her birth name. But she tried to play it cool. She did remember him, after all. “Little Boo Seungkwan!”

“You know everybody on Jeju is looking for you, right?”

She scoffed uncomfortably, working on some food. “Please. I left ten years ago.”

“Left?” Seungkwan sassed. “You disappeared! We all thought you were dead.”

And sometimes she wished she was. “Hardly disappeared… I just decided to leave. And that was just my English name. I go by Jangmi now.”

He scrunched up his face. “Really? You look more like a Victoria.”

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt your bro bonding time,” she cut the conversation short, returning full focus to her duties.

“Vernonie,” Seungkwan said, turning his head to the idiot who couldn’t stop staring at her.

He turned to him, a  bit startled. “Huh?”

“Don’t you think noona looks more like a Victoria?”

She sighed exasperatedly, setting her knife down and trying to ignore that she now knew his name. “You know…”

“Two sodas and an iced milk tea,” Iseul announced, coming up with a tray and setting the drinks down.

Jangmi eyed the sodas through slits, silently judging S.Coups and Seungkwan. “Who drinks soda with sushi?”

“Who doesn’t drink soda with sushi?” Seungkwan retorted.

“Smart people.”

“Ouch,” Vernon commented, sipping at his milk tea with amusement.

“Soda completely destroys your palette. There’s no way you can fully appreciate the flavor with a shot of pepsi between every bite.”

S.Coups held up the wasabi and ginger plate condescendingly. “That’s what the ginger is for.”

“If you did a little more studying instead of flirting, you would know that ginger doesn’t compensate for carbonation remapping your tastebuds, hot shot.”

He just gaped at her while Seungkwan’s jaw dropped and Vernon lost it. “You’re on fire,” Iseul said, high fiving her.

“What are you laughing at?” she asked Vernon teasingly. “Milk tea is creamy and aromatic, so while it may not demolish your tongue, it definitely does make it hard to fully taste.” She ended the little culinary lesson with a smile directed at him. He took the jab surprisingly well, just smiling back. It was probably just because she was looking at him and he thought she was pretty and nice and he was on cloud nine, being the stupid teenager he was. Besides, that just proved that he was right. She did know more than him. Intelligent, beautiful, and kind. There was no way he’d give up on this one.

“After debut, we’ll definitely tell the story of the chef who wrecked us,” Seungkwan snorted.

“Oh, don’t even get me started on you, Seungkwannie.” She chuckled. “What do you mean, debut?”

S.Coups, looking pretty proud, took it upon himself to answer that question. “Well, we’re training to be idols in a group called Seventeen. Debut is in five months.”

“Oh! That’s why you’re all so attractive.” The second Iseul said that, she clamped a hand over her mouth, rushing away to refill some waters.

It was after that, Jangmi noticed them coming in way more. They weren’t always the same guys. Coups missed a couple times, but Vernon was always there. S.Coups would still flirt with Iseul, to which she got used to as the weeks went on, and began a sort of banter response that he absolutely loved.

On free days, they came in. Sometimes it was just Vernon by himself, but only later down the line. Weeks turned into months, shy smiles and small comments turned into conversations that lasted until closing and sometimes even past. It was rare, but when that happened, she would have to snap her fingers under Vernon’s exhausted face. Come on, kid. I’ll take you home. His exasperated sigh as she grabbed the keys to close down. Noona, please. I’m not a kid. Her fingers flicking his skin lightly with a little smile. I’m sure your parents are worried sick. He raised an eyebrow. I don’t live at home. You know that. She stood on her tippy-toes to get an arm around his neck, leading him to the back door. And you’re barely an inch taller than me. You know that?

On those nights, she slept better. She didn’t feel the need to smoke, either. But as stated above, that was rare, because the morning always came. And with it, a new sense of fear and shame.

And hopelessness.