chair shop

Hindsight (Part 1)

By: ProMarvelFanGirl

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Sometimes it takes seeing people through someone else’s eyes to see the truth. (Friends into Lovers)

TAGGING IS OPEN -Updated Every Wednesday!

MasterList


You sit in your favorite yellow armchair that is placed at the perfect angle to give you the best light to read, it was the best reading light in all of Avengers Tower.  You had found your chair in a vintage shop in Brooklyn with Bucky one day and had fallen in love.  You purchased it right away and not wanting to wait for delivery, you forced Bucky to carry your chair with his bionic arm the whole way back to the tower.

Bucky was your best friend, and even though he grumbled the entire way, he couldn’t help but smile at how incredibly happy and in love with the chair you had become.  When the two of you had got close, people assumed you were together, light touches, dinners alone, it all seemed very intimate.  However friendship was all it was, if either of you had feelings it was never mentioned and you fell into a comfortable friendship.

Bucky had been dating Jeanette for over a year and you liked her a lot, she brought Bucky even more out of shell and even helped you convince him to change his all black wardrobe.  Your only fear in their relationship was that you knew she wanted them to live outside the tower.  You didn’t want to lose your best friend, but you knew he deserved happiness and you knew Jeanette made him happy.  So to practice getting ready for him to move out, you stopped trying to spend every moment with him, spending more time with Steve instead.

Steve however, was currently on a mission but due back any minute,  so you were finishing your book while you waited for him.  Bucky and Jeanette had been planning their engagement party all week, so it had been fairly easy to remove yourself from Bucky’s side.  A shadow suddenly blocks your perfect light, breaking your thoughts.  You look up to find Bucky standing over you with a frown.

“You’re avoiding me.”  You roll your eyes at him and return to your book determined not to pay him any attention.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Okay angstyy anon here. How about "please talk to me" with injured/hurt ladybug? Thank you!

(Thanks to @edendaphne @hchano and @midnightstarlightwrites for helping me brainstorm this one!) 

Ladybug cradled her arm to her chest and bit back a sob of pain.

It had been a mistake.

She should have been smart, she should have waited for Chat to arrive. He was the melee fighter, not her. As much as it killed her sometimes to watch him dive in head first, there was no denying that there was a logic to their partnership. He was designed to take the brunt of the damage while she was supposed to be the attacker.

She had never really put a lot of thought into how much protection the suit could give her. She had never needed to before.

She heard the hurried sound of footsteps darting into the alley behind her, but she didn’t know if she had it in her to run away.

“Ladybug!”

She would know that voice anywhere. He was the reason she was cowering here in the first place.

“Ladybug are you ok?” Adrien said, his breath coming hard and fast from his sprint to chase after her.

She didn’t say anything, tears trailing down her cheeks as she continued to clutch at her injured arm.

She was a failure.

The footsteps stopped and she could feel him drop to the ground behind her.

“Ladybug?” Adrien said again, placing his hand hesitantly on her shoulder.

A choked sob of pain, and exhaustion, and shame forced its way out of her throat and she huddled down further. He shouldn’t see her like this. No one should ever see her like this. She was supposed to be a hero, not a sad, broken girl who literally almost let her infatuation get her killed.

She felt Adrien pull his hand back as if he had been burned, and then hear him shift around so that he was kneeling in front of her.

“Hey, it’s ok,” he said tenderly, “it’s going to be ok.” He reached up and gently brushed her bangs away from her face and she couldn’t resist the pull of his gaze. His smile was kind and calm, but his eyes shone with worry. “Please,” he begged softly, “talk to me.”

“Adrien,” she sobbed, sagging forward into his arms.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he soothed, holding he;2r loosely so as not to jostle her injury. “How badly are you hurt, do you need to go to a hospital?”

She shook her head, seeking comfort in his embrace. “No, I can’t. The Akuma-”

“Can wait,” he interrupted. “What matters right now is are you ok?” He pulled away from her slightly, his hands coming to cradle her face.

“I’m… I’m ok, but I think my arm is broken.”

He nodded pulling off his overshirt and wrapping it around her to make a makeshift sling.

“Don’t drop your transformation, it will be worse for you if you do. Luckily it will all be good as new once you use your powers. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the akuma back to you.”

“I need to call Chat,” she said fumbling for her yo-yo, but Adrien grabbed her hand and held her still.

“He already knows, just relax. We need to get you somewhere safer than this.”

A fresh round of tears burned down her cheeks.

“I am sorry, I am so sorry,” she cried, burying her face into his tee-shirt.  

“What are you talking about? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do I failed!”

“What are you talking about? You are a hero, you saved me.”

“And I was so caught up in trying to impress you that I almost got myself killed! Or worse! I could have lost my miraculous! And now I don’t even know if I can fight. I’m letting down everyone! You, Chat-”

“Hey,” he interrupted, “you haven’t let down anyone. Least of all me.”

She let out a small gasp as he wiped the tears away from her eyes. She felt herself flush under the weight of his smile, his thumbs reverently tracing along her cheeks.

“You… you were trying to impress me?” he asked breathlessly.

“I… well I…” the words died in her throat as he leaned closer, his eyes boring into hers, “yes,” she whispered.

“Why would you do that?” he murmured, his lips pausing just a hair’s breadth away from her own.

“Because.. Because I-” she leaned in the rest of the way. Everything faded except for the glorious sensation of his mouth moving against hers, his hands still cupping her face, holding her as if terrified that she would disappear. He tasted like chocolate and mint and cream, like a rich drink that you just want to savor as it warms you. He nibbled hesitantly on her lower lip and she deepened the kiss, losing herself in the feel of him. He pressed forward, one arm wrapping around her back and she broke away with a cry of pain, her arm trapped between them.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” he stammered, awkwardly petting her upper arm. “This problem isn’t the right time for… well…” he coughed, his face going scarlet.

He stood and helped her to her feet as well. “We should get you someplace safe and deal with that akuma.” He began leading her out of the alley and back towards the main street towards a familiar cafe. He put an arm around her shoulder and she couldn’t resist leaning her head against him as he guided her into the small shop. It wasn’t until he was settling her down into a chair by the shops fire, the various staff and patrons whispering excitedly at her presence, that his words actually registered.

“I thought you said Chat was dealing with the akuma?” she asked, confused.

“He’s been a little preoccupied,” Adrien laughed nervously, “but I think it’s time he got to work on fetching a butterfly for you, don’t you think My Lady?”

“Adrien?” she gasped, eyes going wide as she stared at him.

He smiled- wide, and happy, and just a little sheepish. He brought her fingertips to his lips and gave them a delicate kiss.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” he said with a wink, the turned and hurried out.

anonymous asked:

Lance with ptsd who finally gets home but is suffering. He stays in his room a lot and doesn't eat or leave the house. Everyone is worried and lance is just confused or scared most of the time.

Okay

I did a bunch of research on this topic, I hope it’s okay

Mentions Of Panic Attacks 

They were home. They’ve been home for almost two weeks but it wasn’t what Lance thought it would be. Lance had always dreamed that when he came home it would alright, it would be normal. He didn’t think he changed much from his time in space but Lance quickly knew that this wasn’t the case. He was damaged. 

“Lance? Lance please come out of your room, it’s been three days.” Lance listened to his mother’s voice through his locked door and pulled the blankets around him closer to his body, praying it would shield out what he was afraid of. 

He hated how he was acting, he wanted to peal the blankets off his skin that sparkled with sweat, open the door and hug his mother, but he couldn’t. Everytime he attempted to move from his location on his bed, he felt a rush of anxiety move throughout his veins and his heartbeat would pick up. What if that’s not my mother? What if that’s a Galra soldier or a Druid pretending to be my mother? The questions would pour into his mind and Lance found himself unmoving from his bed. 

Yet on the days were Lance found the strength to leave his room, he would sit with his family. Never talking, never joining them in their games, only watching. He needed to watch them because what if something happened to them and Lance couldn’t protect them? Lance couldn’t live with himself if something happen to his siblings or family, anything could happen to them. Nothing surprised Lance anymore, not after what he saw and experienced. 

Lance could hear his parents mumbling about him and he would never forget the day his older sister cried outside his bedroom door begging for him to come out, but Lance couldn’t. He couldn’t shake the nightmares that filled his mind even when he was awake. His days were filled with his memories, his mind replaying scenes from fighting the Galra, scenes from saving his friends, scenes from crying about his family. 

He was constantly on guard and he found it hard to relax his muscles even when he was hanging out with his niece. However not every day was the same and Lance could go out and enjoy life, he would go to the beach with his family or call up Hunk and the others, talking about life. On those days he felt lighter, he felt normal but sometimes the ‘rubber band’ that was holding his safety net would snap back and Lance would be put into a full blown painicattack. His muscles would tense up and he felt like he couldn’t breathe no matter how many times he filled and re filled his lungs. He would find his fingers attempting to clutch a gun but feeling nervous when he realized that his bayard was not at his side. It was in the castle, with his old suit, Voltron was no longer needed anymore. 

Lance was struggling and he didn’t know what to do.

-

“Lance?” A rough voice came from the outside of Lance’s door and Lance turned his head towards the sounds. “Lance, I know you’re there.” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Lance cursed himself for his weak voice. 

“Can I come in? I need to talk to you, face to face.” The voice sounded persistent and Lance had no energy to fight it. He dragged himself up into a standing position and unlocked the door, immediately turned back to his bed.

An older man entered the room and made his way, cautiously to Lance’s bed, pulling up a chair and sitting beside Lance. “Lance, you need help.” 

Lance looked at his father and nodded at his words. He couldn’t deny the fact that he needed help, he wanted to be normal. He wanted to feel just like he did at the Garrison. 

“Look, Lance I don’t know what happened to you up there but I can tell it wasn’t good. I hate seeing my son in pain, I hate that you feel unsafe and scared in your own home. I want you be be okay Lance, I really do.” He reached forward and grabbed his son in a hug, holding him tightly, hoping to put the broken pieces back together. 

Lance nodded into his father’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, hugging back just as tight.

-

Lance leaned back in his chair at the coffee shop, laughter spilling out of his mouth. “I can’t believe you did that!” Lance grabbed his stomach and fought for air between his laughs. 

Hunk wiped his eyes and laughed along with his friend. “I did, and I have no regrets.” 

After a few minutes Lance managed to catch his breath and he took a sip of his ice coffee. He felt better, he didn’t feel like something was coming for him. Sure there were some days where Lance slipped a bit but most of the time he was okay. He was getting help, he was healing and Lance was proud of himself for that. He had come so far from when he first returned to Earth. 

“So Lance do you want to get some food? I’m starving.” Hunk grabbed his coffee and stood from his table, Lance following his friend. 

“Yeah I’m down for that. There is this pizza shop that looks over the water and their garlic knots are soooo good.” Lance started to lead his friend towards the shop, smiling at everything and everyone he passed. 

I’m going to be okay. 

Happy Ending!!!!

I hope i did okay, feel free to message me if you’re ever struggling with anything! 

Sorry it took so long!

Thank you!

INSPIRATION

A/N: since i literally don’t have any barry allen oneshots i brought this one back from my old account :)))

  • PAIRING: Barry Allen x Reader
  • SUMMARY: In which Barry always goes to Jitters but somehow always sees a girl there, typing. Boy meets girl, bam they fall in love right? Not their story…
  • WORDS: 1116 (it’s long sorryy)

DAY 1. It was a Sunday, he had work and she had an entry to write. He decided to stop by a place he’s all too familiar with to grab a cup of coffee to go. She decided the same.

He goes for the coffee, she goes there for inspiration. It was bound for the both of them to meet somehow.

That was the day, a cappuccino he ordered to the barista. That’s when he saw her, sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs, the coffee shop had many to offer, her laptop on the square table with a notepad next to it. While her brows were furrowed, an obvious look of concentration, as she typed her delicate fingers on the keyboard.

The moment he saw her face, he was in shock at her beauty, gaping almost. The barista snapped him out of his daze, “one large cappuccino for Barry!?”

The young man shook his head, coming out of his daydream. Taking the coffee from the woman, smiling his infamous smile showing off his pearly whites as thanks.

With one last look at the mysterious girl, he left to go save the day.

DAY 2. He was there yet again, it’s officially been apart of his daily routine to get a cup of caffeine before he arrived at his workplace.

‘I guess you can say coffee has taken part of my life now,’ he would say if anyone commented about it. However, it was true if anyone had the courage to question about it.

When he was in line for the second day that week that was when he saw her, yet again, typing away at her keyboard. Her Y/H/C hair parted on her shoulder neatly, as it cascaded down to her waist [that’s how long my hair is lololol].

Barry couldn’t help but gape at her, again. He looked at his watch that his adoptive father gave him, sad to go to work now.

DAY 3. This time he went to the coffee shop around the afternoon, it was a Tuesday; one of his favorite days since it’s his day off.

That’s usually the day where he goes to his day job, S.T.A.R labs. However, today was different, he went to Jitters with his friends today.

Right when he walked in the ornate cafe, with his two friends by his side, he saw her once again.

This time though she stopped typing and looked up at him too, their eyes met for a split second but it felt way longer. As if time stopped, and they were the only two people on this Earth.

Cisco was the person that snapped him out of his daze, telling him that they found a table. It was at least 3 feet away from the stunning girl.

The whole time Barry shared his company with his pals, he kept his gaze on the mysterious girl that he keeps running into somehow.

Every time she would look up to meet his stare, he turns to his companions and played as if he was interested in their conversation. Barry was whipped he didn’t even know it.

Caitlin and Cisco noticed, sending a few knowing glances at each other. They didn’t say anything until they got back to the lab, Cisco immediately bringing it up. “So who was that girl at Jitters you were staring at?”

Barry just gave his long-haired buddy a glance, furrowing his brows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

His pal gave him a mischievous expression, “Dude just ask her out.” The sentence made the brunet sigh, shrugging his shoulders.

DAY 4. The sentence that Cisco told him kept replaying in his head, over and over. Though Barry tried his best to shake it off.

The brown haired man didn’t know that they were going to meet again except this time it wasn’t at their usual place.

It was the job where his childhood best friend Iris worked, Picture News. The young man went to pick up his best friend for lunch.

Barry went towards her desk, where he greeted her. She smiled at him excitedly, “Barry! I’d love for you to meet someone,” the young woman enthusiastically greeted him without actually greeting him.

He was confused but still smiled his shy smile, and that’s when he saw her. Iris gently grabbed her by her wrist, smiling genuinely at her.

The girl’s eyes went wide when she saw him, it was the young man she has been coincidentally seeing day by day. Even though she didn’t look up the few times he saw her she still saw him from the corner of her Y/E/C eyes.

Once Iris brought her next to her, they were officially face to face. “Barry, I would like for you to meet my new colleague Y/N.”

After looking into each other’s sparkling eyes for a moment, they finally snapped out of it and introduced each other. “H-Hi I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She politely extended her hand for him to shake.

He charmingly smiled, showing off his pearly whites. “Um…Barry Allen,” he shook her hand, butterflies erupting in both of their stomach’s. “Nice to meet you.”

DAY 5. It was work day now, waking up at seven AM has been his usual wake up time right about now.

He went to Jitters once again, then he saw her. Y/N, since he knows her name now and she knows his.

When he saw her, she looked up from her computer screen, smiling at him. He smiled back. Then checked his watch, luckily he had about ten minutes to spare especially since he is the fastest man alive.

He pulled up the chair across from the girl, almost immediately capturing her attention. “Hey,” Barry chuckled nodding his head at her.

“Hi,” she shyly smiled at him.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two, then Barry asked the question he has been dying to ask her ever since he saw her. “Why is it that every time I see you, you always seem super attentive towards your computer?”

She licked her lips before speaking, a habit she’s picked up recently. “Well, I’m a writer and I recently started working at Picture News. Aside from actually doing my job, I like to write.”

He seemed mesmerized by her, “But why write here?”

Y/N looked around the cinnamon smelling cafe, smiling then looked at the cute boy in front of her, who’s looking at her like she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. “I come here for inspiration.” The girl shyly muttered, rubbing her neck with her hand.

One thing Barry knew in that moment, was that he was absolutely awestruck by this girl.

Fifth times a charm.

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS (check these out for more!)

“Why are you alway so negative?”

Because I can’t do my favorite activities anymore and every place I go is wildly inaccessible and more!!

Our Table

Pairing: YouxMinhyun


The cafe you work at is small. It’s located on a back street in Gangnam–it’s wooden paneled walls and hanging ferns contrast rather harshly with the posh aesthetic of the richest district in Seoul, but it’s definitely your favorite place in the bustling city.

You’d come to work there by chance. You came to Seoul about a year ago to pursue your masters in international relations and had been lucky enough to find a reasonably priced flat on the edge of Gangnam with the help of your scholarship sponsors. The place was, in your opinion, much nicer than what you were paying for it, and so you’d sought out the landlord of the flat to find out why you were able to pay so little. 

The landlord was an elderly man, approaching his late 70s but still extremely spunky in spite of his age. He’d told you quite bluntly that he liked to help out those who helped themselves, and when the scholarship sponsors had mentioned you’d secured a spot for yourself in a grad school here in Korea, far away from where you’d grown up by working your hardest through undergrad, he’d decided to help you by lowering the rent. 

You appreciated the gesture, but still wanted to earn your keep, so after much pressing your landlord said you could work part time at one of his businesses under the condition it didn’t interfere with your coursework. 

You’d agreed immediately, and ended up as a regular part-timer at the small cafe. To your chagrin, the kind landlord still insisted you be paid at least some sort of wage, which  c o m p l e t e l y  defeated the purpose of you wanting to work there in the first place, but you could only argue so much. 

Regardless of you feeling like you are getting more than you deserve out of the whole deal, you love your job at the cafe. 

Today is just like any other. A few customers litter the tables and chairs in the shop, most spots remaining vacant. The place is rarely ever full. It’s location on a small back street keeps too many people from knowing about it in the first place, but the owner (who you’re sure is loaded) keeps it open as a hobby, he himself spending much of his time in one of the squishy armchairs by the bookshelves when he isn’t out tending to his other businesses. 

The entrance to get behind the counter is closed off by a partition. One small table sits there off to the side, hidden away from the rest of the cafe but giving just enough of a view to see if someone walks up to the counter. 

You often sit at that table to work on your coursework when there aren’t any customers to tend to. You usually sit there alone, but sometimes one specific customer joins you. 

The first time you’d met him was during your first week of work. You’d just finished barista training when he’d walked up–the first customer you’d serve on your own. He always wanted the same thing–a cappuccino with an extra shot–and he always wore a white mask over the lower half of his face. 

That first day when he’d headed behind the partition you had left your school books on the table. You hurried in an effort to clear off your belongings so that he could have the table to himself.

“You can leave your things. If you don’t mind sharing the table, that is.”

You’d looked up at the customer, his smooth voice surprising you as you balanced the load of books in your arms, “a-are you sure?”

The customer’s eyes had crinkled in what you assumed was a smile. “I’m sure,” he reached out to take the books threatening to fall from your arms, setting them back in their previous spot before settling into his own seat.

And from that day forward you shared the table–you would study and tend to customers, and he would read a book of his own while sipping at his cappuccino. The two of you never spoke, instead just accepting each other’s company at the table and going about your respective business in silence until he eventually got up to leave, waving and saying goodbye each time.

When you asked your landlord about the customer, he just told you that he was a man who enjoyed his privacy and left it at that.

You never know what day the customer will come into the shop, but, when he does come, it’s always at 6 in the evening when the shop is the most empty. You aren’t sure when it happened, but you’d eventually found yourself hoping the masked man would enter every time 6 pm rolls around. The two of you never talk beyond him ordering his drink, but you still somehow managed to develop a crush of sorts on your tablemate. You don’t take it seriously, of course, but you definitely enjoy having company at the table. 

As the clock signals the approach of 6 o’clock you find yourself glancing at the door every few seconds, passively hoping to catch a glimpse of dark hair and the white mask. 6 comes and goes, and you sigh in disappointment. 

“Not today,” you mutter to yourself as you make yourself a latte and shuffle over to your table. 

Being in grad school means you always have something to do, and so you distract yourself from the subtle disappointment sitting in your stomach by burying your nose in one of your textbooks. 

You’re a few pages into your assigned reading for the day when the scratching of a chair being pulled out causes you to snap your head up. The masked customer is there, hanging his coat on the back of the chair before sitting down.

“You’re late today,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

The customer’s eyes widen for a moment in surprise before crinkling to signal a smile, “I guess I am.”

You both hold each other’s gaze for a moment, you still being slightly shocked that the two of you had actually said something to one another beyond his order.

“Oh!” you push yourself from your seat quickly, “I’ll make your drink.” You hurry away behind the counter so fast that you miss the way the masked customer laughs at your sudden outburst, shaking his head as you go.

You bring back the cappuccino, slightly less flustered after going through the familiar motions of making the drink, and set it down in front of him. He had picked up one of your books in your absence and leafs through it’s pages.

“You’re a student, right?”

You nod, and tell him the program you’re in.

He takes a sip from his mug, only lifting his mask enough to take a drink, but not enough for you to get a good look at his face. It’s always like that–to this day you’ve still never seen his face. 

“That’s impressive, Y/N,” he says, crinkled eyes meeting your own.

“Thank yo–wait, how do you know my name?” 

He lifts a finger to point to your chest, and you look down, puzzled. 

“Your name tag,” he supplies.

You feel your face heat up and you mutter out a weak, “oh, right,” before trying to cover up your embarrassment by taking a drink from your own mug. 

Silence falls between the two of you then and you swear he can probably hear your heartbeat. 

It takes all your courage to muster up a question: “what’s your name?”

The masked customer studies you for a moment, seemingly contemplating your question before firing one right back at you, “can you keep a secret, Y/N?”

You furrow your brow, puzzled, but nod slowly, “yeah, I can.”

He hesitates for a moment before reaching up to pull down his mask. 

His face is immediately familiar because who wouldn’t recognize a face that goddamn beautiful. You pass a billboard of that same face when you take the train to school. That same face pops up on commercial breaks and on cardboard cutouts in cosmetic stores. 

And even though Hwang Minhyun is now sitting in front of you, the only thing you can manage to say is, “oh…hi.” And it comes out as more of a squeak than an actual statement. 

Minhyun looks stunned for a moment, then doubles over, laughter shaking his lean frame as he clutches that white mask in his hand.

If your face wasn’t red before it sure as hell is now.

“Why are you laughing at me?” you grumble, face burning.

It takes another moment, but Minhyun composes himself, wiping at a tear leaking from the corner of his eye, “Sorry, that was just really cute.”

Just when you thought your face couldn’t get any redder.

“So you recognize me, then?”

your mouth drops open, “you’re kidding, right?” you throw your hands up, “I don’t think there’s a human being in Seoul right now who wouldn’t recognize you.”

He chuckles–a sound that makes your heart skip a beat–and swings the mask around on his finger, “so now you know why I wear this.”

You nod, and place hand on your chest in an effort to calm yourself. It feels surreal, a celebrity sitting in front of you like this, but at the same time it’s comfortable–the same as always. You can’t even count how many times you’ve shared this very table with the man in front of you–knowing his name, when you really think about it, doesn’t change anything. He’s still that same customer who always shares your table. 

So you stick your hand out, “well then I guess it’s nice to finally know your name, Minhyun-ssi.”

Your action seems to catch him off guard, but only for a second. He grabs your smaller hand with his own, his grip firm, and beams. 

“Just Minhyun is fine.”

From then on Minhyun comes to the shop more often, at least three times a week, and the two of you no longer sit at the table in silence. Instead you both converse constantly; him talking about his schedules and training and you talking about your classes and university life. When a test or quiz rolls around, Minhyun even helps you study, often reading definitions from one of your books and asking for the matching key term or checking your notes as you talk through a concept. 

Over the next few months interactions with Minhyun become your favorite parts of your week. He becomes a confidant, and someone who seems to align with your own sense of humor more so than anyone you’ve ever met before. He’s also by far the most considerate person you’ve ever come across, often asking if you’d slept enough the night before or if you were eating properly (which of course you aren’t because #college) but always changing the subject whenever the same questions are turned on him.

It’s strange, just how easily he seems to fit into your routine, and you don’t notice just how much you’ve come to rely on his presence until he stops coming to the cafe. You try not to let it disappoint you too much–when your landlord comments on how down you seem lately you plaster on a smile and say you’re just tired from studying, but you know that he probably knows. You avoid that billboard in the subway on your way to classes. When watching TV you change the channel whenever you see that smile that used to be directed at you flash across the screen.

It’d be stupid to admit that a boy you’ve only talked to at work affects you this much. It’d be stupid to believe that someone like Hwang Minhyun would have come to depend on seeing you as much as you’d come to depend on seeing him. It’d be stupid to cry over it. 

But you do. 

It’s six weeks before he comes in again, 

Your semester is wrapped up and you’ve taken on extra shifts at the cafe. You’ve fallen into a good habit of keeping yourself busy by washing dishes that are already clean or triple checking inventory when you aren’t serving a customer just for the sake of not hoping that a certain man in a certain mask walks through the door. So you don’t notice when he walks up to the counter and rings the bell for service. And you don’t even look up when you approach the register to take his order.

“Thank you for coming in, what can I get for you today?” your hands are occupied by a notepad and pen, ready to jot down whatever the customer wants.

“I’m hurt, Y/N. You usually always know my order.”

You look up then and lock onto those familiar crinkled eyes, your heart rate speeding up because he’s here.

You frown, putting down the pad and immediately turning around to make his drink. Your back is still to him when you say, “you can go sit down, I’ll bring it to you.”

You hear him move after a moment of hesitation, but you don’t dare look up to see him disappear around the partition.

You aren’t mad, just overwhelmed, and the methodical process of making his cappuccino gives you a moment to gather yourself. 

Your hands are shaking when you bring the mug to your table and set it down in front of Minhyun. 

Once settled in your own seat you steel your nerves and look up at him. The mask is off and the corners of his mouth are pulled down in concern.

He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off: “You disappeared.”

A pause, then, “I did.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be gone for so long.”

“I didn’t”

His voice is calm, yours is shaking, and you take a moment to consider your next words before saying them.

“I missed you.”

Minhyun doesn’t respond, instead staring at you with his mouth slightly open.

You stare down at your thumbs as they twiddle in your lap. Great. You’ve made things awkward–he’s back and you’ve just blown everything.

“I’m sorry, Y/N–” You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for the rejection. “–I missed you, too.”

Your eyes snap open and stare straight at the man in front of you and he’s…blushing?

“You did?” you ask incredulously.

His brow furrows then, “of course I did, why wouldn’t I?”

Your own brows knit together in confusion, “because you just up and left and didn’t tell me anything for six weeks.”

Minhyun leans back and pushes a hand through his hair, “I know, and I’m sorry, it’s just schedules got really tight and it got harder to sneak past my manager to get out of the dorms for a while–”

“Wait what–you were sneaking out before?” Your mind is reeling at this point.

“Well, yeah. My managers wouldn’t be to keen on the fact that I’m going out to a cafe just to see a girl all the time. Not a great look for an idol.”

Your head feels like its spinning and you take a moment to collect your thoughts, “you sneak out of your dorms…to see me?”

Minhyun takes on the same incredulous tone as you, “why else would I come here so often, Y/N?”

“Because I make a mean cappuccino?” you ask sheepishly.

He laughs genuinely then, shaking his head before scooping up one of your hands with both of his own. “I come here to see you, Y/N.”

And there goes your face again, burning like it’s the damn sun. 

Minhyun plows on, “at first I would come here just for a break–it’s secluded and no one has recognized me here before so it was nice to have time to myself. But then you started working here and we shared our table and I just started to crave your company. And then that day came along when you spoke to me for the first time and found out who I was and you still treated me like I was a normal person and I just felt so accepted. So yeah, Y/N, I come here to see you. And I’m so sorry I was gone without telling you but I’m back now and I won’t let this happen again.”

You stare at your connected hands, too embarrassed to make eye-contact until Minhyun gives your hand a squeeze and speaks up again.

“Where’s your phone?”

You look up, thrown off by the question, and use your free hand to pull your phone from your work apron and unlock it with your thumb, “it’s here, but why–” 

Minhyun doesn’t wait for you to finish, instead taking your phone and passing you his own. 

“You said you missed me, so let’s exchange numbers?” He’s already typing in his contact info but pauses when you don’t respond. “…is this okay, or..?” he says, unsure.

You shake your head, beginning to punch in your own info, “yeah, yeah, of course it’s okay.”

He smiles, with a “good,” before passing back your phone and taking his own once you’ve finished creating your contact.”Now we don’t have to only meet here anymore. Because as much as I love our table, I think it’s about time we meet at some other places, too.”

—-

I threw this together in one sitting with the intention of it being a one shot, but I’m not really satisfied with ending it here and i really don’t want to rewrite it…so I might add to it later? Like another installment? Maybe? Someone decide for me haha.  


Part two is out and can be read here!

Caramel Macchiato

Prompt requests for pediatrician!Lily, Surgeon!James, tattooed!James, Disney’s Moana AU, and a ‘meet in a coffee shop’  so this is the request mash-up that you never knew you needed because I have no chill. Read on FF

James was busy studying his medical terms when he saw her for the first time. He’d settled into one of the coffee shops many chairs and (honestly) was looking for any excuse to stare at something other than obese human anatomy when she walked through the door laughing into her cell as she shook white snow from her hair. Immediately the anatomy in his book could hold nothing to her smile, which quirked playfully like a renaissance artist had painted it on.

James didn’t want to disclose to anyone that he only studied at the café in the mornings at the coffee shop to simply see her…but it was a rather large contributing factor to his actions.

The coffee shop that sat right next to the Hospital was silent, save for the music that floated over the radio. James loved to study there because it meant he wouldn’t be distracted where as the University library was always full of too many distractions. He’d been coming to study at the café ever since he’d started signing up to shadow the surgeons at the hospital when he finished his exams.

The pretty girl was an extra distraction, one he boldly took advantage of when she smiled and waved at him as she passed each morning. Sometimes she was chewing on a warm bagel but she always had a caramel macchiato, no matter the time or weather. It was always a quick distraction, interaction with her never lasting more than a minute, but he welcomed it every morning.

James went three months without his best friend Sirius finding him out and then (finally) James’ snapchat gave away his location. It was all over once his sanctuary was discovered. Sirius stopped by halfway through James’ final review for class and ordered two coffees to go, expecting it to take him no time at all to get James to abandon his studies. There was a reason Sirius barely made it through pre med; mainly that he didn’t have the attention span. Sirius was smart and loved to run his mouth but he had no patience.

“What the Hell, James.” Sirius moaned after fifteen minutes of James not budging, slamming the booklet shut, “You can’t seriously be having fun.”

“If I wanted to have fun I would’ve never gone to med school.”

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