a/n: this is sweet too and i couldnt resist BECAUSE FINALLY I COULD ADD MY MAMAMOO GIRLS ughhh what an excuse for me - honestly i hesitated a lot writing this because the 60s-80s is such a particular vibe and style of storytelling that i haven't done in aaaages and i never quite get it right, but what the hell i thought i'd give it a shot and i wanted this to be super fluffy because the vibes of the characters and its the perfect summer look! 

prompt from tammyboomerang - cookie jar irene + umpah umpah wendy + retro diner AU

Irene nervously rubs her sweaty palms on her pants. The flare at her ankles brushes against each other as she crosses and uncrosses underneath the table. If anyone were to stare at her from the outside, they would think that she desperately needed to use the loo. To be fair, she is nervous enough to hide in the loo for as long as possible because the ticking of the clock on the wall only seems to get louder. 

The diner she sits in is so bright and light with its light pink and baby blue patterned tiles. There’s a warm smell of sweets and flour in the air of freshly made pastries. And a cheerful jingle of a quartet of women that sound suspiciously like the four purported owners of the establishment. They are all four very distinct women with very interesting ways of wearing their pink and white skirted uniforms. One woman just doesn’t have any sleeves! Irene doesn’t find that practical at all considering the haphazard way she glides through the diner balancing everything on her tray.

Everything about this place is the opposite of Irene. 

Irene catches her warped reflection in the metal napkin dispenser. Her waves are slowly flattening out and she kind of panics because her normally straight hair is not as pretty or mysterious. She wants to make sure that Wendy sees her exactly as the first time they met. So she isn’t disappointed. 

“Honey, I wouldn’t worry about your looks if I were you,” the kindest puppy looking woman says as she slips a small plate onto the table before Irene. Her forearm has a tattoo that Irene doesn’t catch.

A single red velvet cookie the size of Irene’s face sits on the plate.

“I didn’t–”

“On the house,” the waitress says with a wink. “Only for the prettiest of girls.” Irene blushes as she reads the nametag on the waitress’ shirt. Wheein. 

Just as she is about to thank Wheein, the woman without sleeves appears, draping an arm over her shoulder. The outfit upon closer look is a y halter cut and Irene really wonders how she got away with that look. “Now, now, sweetie,” she interrupts with a teasing tone at Wheein. “Don’t you see she’s waiting for her date?” She wags a playful finger as Wheein rolls her eyes in exasperation. She reaches into her dangerously open uniform and Irene’s eyes can’t help but follow her hand as she reaches into her cleavage. 

The name tag says Hwasa! 

Irene tries not to get caught staring as Hwasa pulls out a silver tube and hands it to her. 

“Try this, the colour is perfect for you