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[sarangscenarios-blog]

Hiiii. When are you going to post the next part of "The first time he ..."? I'm in love with it 💕💕💕I hope this will have 35557 parts. ❤ I love your writing. (for me, I imagine that he is Wonho from Monsta X) Have a beautiful day/night. 😘

Hiiii!! I’m so glad you like it and I just posted :D Wonho is an absolute babe omg xx

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The First Time He... | Optional Bias Scenario | Series | Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Summary: You thought you’d be more excited when you met another member of your favourite group - but instead, you’re left confused and a little uncertain about everything that’s happened.

Genre: Angst? It’s not very fluffy haha

Word Count: 1427

The First Time He Wasn’t Not Alone

You can't sit still.

Your fingers twitch, weaving the pen you hold through the spaces between your finger, notebook beneath your palm forgotten. Your eyes drift toward the blinking clock displayed on the register. It’s almost midnight and, as usual, you’re distracted — too focused on the anticipatory butterflies that have sprung to life in your stomach to remember the quiz you’ll have in class in a few hours.

Every time someone appears from the shadows on the other side of the window looking out onto the quiet street, your gaze jerks toward the door waiting for a familiar face to appear. He's still a busy person, and has only been able to stay and sit with you a handful of times, but you feel lucky to get a glimpse of who he is outside of what you’ve seen in the media. Though you wouldn’t call him a friend — not yet, at least — he isn’t exactly a stranger anymore.

You don’t know what he gets out of these trips, outside of a free drink on the occasion that he actually lets you pay for something, but you’re too embarrassed to ask outright, and too fearful that he’ll find the question offensive and stop coming at all.

You tear your eyes away from the window and try to focus on your notes but it’s a vain attempt. All you can think of is the joke he made the last time he was here and how embarrassed you were that you’d almost choked on the sip of coffee you’d taken just before he made it.

You’re smiling to yourself when the entry bell chimes and your smile widens reflexively when you spy the lanky man step into the store wearing a hoodie you’ve seen him in before. Your smile freezes when another man enters as well.

The second man pulls his hood down the moment the door shuts behind him and you recognize his face immediately. His bright eyes land on you and an excited smile spreads across his face as he slaps his friend on the arm.

“This is the girl, right?” He ambles right up to you and offers you a hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

You stare at his hand for a moment, trying to wrap your mind around the finally in his sentence. He speaks as if he knows who you are — as if you’re the famous person and not the other way around.

“Ah,” he says, retracting his hand before you can catch yourself and do more than look at it. “I forgot, you’re an anti-fan.”

Anti-fan. You almost wince when the word slips from his lips. It’s the only mistake you’ve made again and again without correction since your new acquaintance started stopping in the store more frequently.

You’d thought about correcting the misassumption after he’d first sat down with you at the table at the back of the store, but you’d been worried that he’d think you’d been trying to trick him and decided it was a harmless piece of miscommunication.

“You know who I am?” you say instead of correcting the new man now. He nods in an almost comically enthusiastic manner.

“He talks about you all the — ”

“Stop harassing her,” the other man finally steps in. Even beneath the shadow of his hood, you can tell that his cheeks are flushed in embarrassment. It’s almost a relief to see that you’re not the only one between the two of you that’s flustered. “She’s working. We shouldn’t be bothering her.”

“There’s no one else in the store,” his friend says, waving him away without a glance in his direction. “Why don’t you go grab the drinks while I get to know her a little better.”

With a reluctant, and somewhat apologetic, glance in your direction, he follows the older member’s request and disappears toward the refrigerators. When you pull your eyes away from him, back to the idol standing before you, you find him smiling at you with a knowing look. You feel your own cheeks begin to grow warm.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you,” you say, a little stiffly. He laughs and shakes his head.

“No need to lie,” he says in an airy tone. It’s obvious that unlike his other member, he’s unaffected by the idea of you not liking his music or group. “I just wanted to see the girl he always slips away to see during practice.”

You shift in place, glancing over his shoulder in the hopes that you’d only be alone for a few seconds longer.

“I find it funny, to be honest,” he says, following your gaze to the man who’s scanning the rows of drinks looking for something in particular.

“What?” you ask self-consciously.

He doesn’t seem to catch the way you bristle, saying, “He spends so much time with an anti-fan. It’s seems counterintuitive, doesn’t it?” He pauses and shrugs. “Though now that I see how pretty you are, I think I understand a little more.”

He smiles in such a friendly manner that you know he doesn’t mean to be malicious, but the nugget of doubt that always lingers in the back of your mind after these visits is now at the forefront, too loud to be ignored.

Why does he bother coming back? You never talk about anything interesting apart from your classes and the silly things your friends sometimes do and he never seems to want to talk about his life with you. You suppose it’s just a way to pass the time for him, a fun thing to share with his members. Who wouldn’t find it funny that an anti-fan worked at the store so close to their studio?

As if sensing the turn of conversation, the younger member reappears carrying an armful of drinks and wearing a sheepish expression. “I hope he didn’t bother you too much.”

“Ya — are you so bold to talk about your elder to his face like that?” the other man says, nudging him in the arm with an elbow. Instead of smiling and going along with the joke, the younger man keeps his eyes on you as he places the drinks on the counter.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course she is,” his friend says, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I’m far better company than you are. Aren’t I?”

You force a smile onto your face at the direct question and nod before ringing up the items. You focus on keeping up the bright facade, ignoring the disappointment that feels as heavy as lead in your stomach at the thought of this being your only interaction with your usual companion for the night.

When the bill’s been paid and the older member’s card is back in his pocket, he pats his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a few minutes. Don’t take too long or we’ll get in trouble.”

He winks at you before disappearing down the aisle, humming a soft tune to himself. You watch him through the window, peeking into the plastic bag as he waits on the sidewalk outside

“He didn’t say something stupid, did he?” When you turn your uncertain gaze toward the remaining idol, he lets out an annoyed breath. “Of course he did. When doesn’t he say something stupid? Did he give you a hard time for not liking us?”

“No,” you answer truthfully. “He didn’t say anything bad, don’t worry.”

“Then why do you seem upset?” He takes a step closer to the counter and furrows his brows. You force the smile back onto your face and shake your head, feeling silly.

“I’m not, really.” You gesture toward the window where the other member peers in, waving jovially when he realizes you’ve caught him spying. “You’d better go. I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

He still hesitates, glancing over his shoulder and then back to you with a conflicted expression. Finally, he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You smile more genuinely this time. “You know where you find me.”

He laughs and nods before joining his group mate and heading back in the direction of the studio. You replay the interaction in your head for the rest of the night, wondering if you’d just read into things wrong, but a larger part of you than normal is convinced that you need to stop getting so excited when he comes into the store.

You’re just a passing distraction during the quieter times on his schedule until he’s swept up again and you’re left behind forgotten.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took so long to post another part to this series! I have a general idea of where I want it to go, but at the same time filling in the little bits is getting harder haha Hope y’all enjoyed it! xx

[sarangscenarios-blog]

I'm absolutely in love with the series. This feels so, so realistic. We all have different people on our minds. Can I ask who it is for you? Thank you so much for writing this ❤❤❤❤

Ahh, I’m so glad to hear that! When I’m writing, I try not to put an actual idol in my mind because then their specific traits would come out which makes it too specific, but if I was reading it alone, probably Park Chanyeol? Though I.M. from Monsta X is literally killing all my other biases rn haha

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Looking forward to an update for 'The First Time He...'!!!💗💗💗

Just updated!! Hope you like it :D xx

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The First Time He... | Optional Bias Scenario [Series] | Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: After disappearing for a week, you’re surprised when he shows up to the store, not only asking why you were gone but sticking around long enough to leave you a flustered mess.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1445

The First Time He...Stayed

The sun slowly begins to descend behind the tall buildings as you hike the straps of your backpack further up on your shoulders. A cool breeze replaces the stifling heat of the afternoon. You shiver, regretting the choice to forego your jacket on the walk to work.

Spring is a season of extremes here, with hot days and cold nights. The whiplash of the temperature, added to the stress of your impending exams, had made you sick enough to miss an entire week of shifts at the store. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little relieved to finally be back again.

The last chocolate bar from the pile of snacks you’d been given during your last shift sits at the bottom of your backpack. You can’t bring yourself to touch it — the only evidence you have left of that bizarre encounter.

Even when you’d been buried under piles of used tissues and cue cards, you’d found yourself reaching for your phone to check up on the guy you couldn’t seem to get off of your mind. Their comeback schedule seems to have gotten a little less hectic, so you hope that means you’ll see that familiar face sooner rather than later.

You smile to yourself, feeling a little silly, but he’d been so nice to you that night even though he didn’t have to be, given that he was under the impression that you’re an anti-fan, and that kindness had stuck with you.

Your coworker notices your good mood the moment you enter and she eyes you curiously.

“I’ve never seen you this happy about work, especially the late shift,” she says as she removes the button up uniform shirt she wears over her own tee. You shrug, slipping beneath the counter to stand beside her.

“Guess the time off put me in a good mood,” you say over your shoulder, entering the break room to grab your own uniform. She follows you, retrieving her belongings from her locker.

“I don’t know how you handle the late shift,” she comments with a small shiver. Her eyes are fixed on the small mirror stuck to the locker door as she reapplies her mauve lipstick. “The store is so creepy when it’s empty — and it’s so boring. I almost lost my mind.”

You grin, thinking of the chocolate bar, as you slip on your uniform shirt. “It’s not so bad, sometimes.”

She quirks a brow at you and slams her locker shut. “Well I’m just glad I don’t have to cover your shift anymore.” Throwing a hand in the air as she leaves through the back door, she calls a quick, “Good night.”

You shake your head before you return to the front of the store. Now that your exams are over, and you have a few weeks of freedom before your summer classes start, you no longer have to study during your shifts, so you pull out the novel you’ve been meaning to read out of your backpack and settle in for your shift.

Every time the digital bells chime, you immediately glance toward the door in anticipation, but after hours of disappointment you focus all your attention on the novel to avoid the feeling again. It’s well past the time he’d normally come in — so late that you’d soon be relieved by your manager who worked the morning shift.

You call out the standard customer greeting in a less than enthused tone when the door opens, flipping to a new page in your novel without looking up. Only when you see the customer in your peripheral vision do you look away, straightening fully when you realize it’s the one person you’ve been waiting your whole shift for. A small smile plays on his lips as his eyes drift toward the novel in your hand.

“Good book?” he asks, jerking his chin toward it. Your grip tightens on the book as you nod slowly.

“It’s a little silly, but entertaining, I guess.” You push it aside to serve him. Instead of the usual cans of coffee, he’s picked up some bottles of juice. You quirk your brows, but ring up the items silently. He takes his time counting out the exact change, almost like he’s stalling for time, and your confusion grows.

“You haven’t been working,” he says after handing you the money. You glance up from the register, surprised.

“Yeah, I had exams,” you say, shutting the drawer. “I got a little sick, too, so I took some time off. Bag?”

He clears his throat, nodding toward the drinks. “I was actually planning to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.” Gesturing toward the empty table beside the store entrance, his eyebrows knit together. “Is that allowed? You’re technically working, but no one’s ever in here when I come in so I figured—”

“Yeah — yeah, I can sit with you.” There’s no real rules against it, once you’re not ignoring customers. You two stare at each other quietly for a moment before you jerkily climb under the counter. He moves to make room for you and you’re overwhelmed by the closeness when you’re finally standing beside him.

You cough to hide your nervous smile and glance toward him, “Should we—?”

“Right.” He grabs the drinks and follows you down the aisle toward the table. The awkward tension only seems to grow when you’re both seated, facing one another. You fiddle with the cap of your bottle, the silence stretching as you both drink your juice and avoid one other’s gaze. Finally, you decide to try and break the silence.

“You don’t have to go back to practice?”

This snaps him out of whatever thoughts have been plaguing him. He looks at you with furrowed brows. “How did you know…?”

You feel your cheeks heat up. You probably seem really creepy, so you try to backtrack. “Well, I figured since it was late and you always get coffee to stay awake…”

“Oh.” You swear his own cheeks seem a little redder than usual, but it’s probably just your eyes playing tricks on you. “That makes sense — but no. We’ve finished up for the night, that’s why I’m here so late.”

You nod, taking a sip of your juice to save yourself from having to fill the quiet again. He begins to laugh to himself suddenly and your eyes drift back toward him with wariness. He stifles his laughter with a shaky smile and raises his hand in apology.

“Sorry,” he says with wavering lips. “It’s just — I don’t remember ever being so awkward around somebody before.” It’s not hard to believe given his occupation, but these kinds of interactions are routine for you because of your self-conscious nature. You almost apologize, ready to explain that this awkwardness definitely rests on your shoulders, when he continues, “I think I’m just worried about what you’ll think. I feel like I have to prove myself to you.”

“To me?” you ask, incredulity thick in your voice. “Why?”

He smiles softer now and shrugs a shoulder. “I guess it’s because I know you don’t like me.”

You frown. “Why would you think that I don’t—oh.”

You feel the weight of his gaze on you as your own eyes drop to the tabletop. You clear your throat.

“I don’t not like you,” you mumble. “You’re so nice, how could I not like you?”

“That’s a relief to hear,” he says in an amused tone, leaning back in his seat.  He shakes his head, infinitely more comfortable than he’d been a few seconds ago. “I didn’t like the idea of you not liking me, so I sort of made it my mission to change that.” When you dare to look at him, you find him already sheepishly grinning at you.  “You must think that’s conceited of me — huh? Not being able to handle criticism.”

“No, I — ” You bite your lip, unsure if you should continue. “It’s endearing, a little bit.”

His smile becomes less shy. He gets to his feet and collects your empty bottles to throw in the trash.

“Well I’d better leave before you find a reason to hate me again.” He zips up his coat and shoves his hands into the pockets of it. “Drinks on you, next time?”

He shoots you a cheeky smile that you’ve only seen on the screen of your phone, the one that oozes the confidence he displays onstage with his members, before exiting the store. You’re left flustered, stuck in your seat until your manager walks in a few minutes later, asking you what on earth you’re doing.

A/N: Hey you guys, sorry it’s been so long! I made this part a little longer to make up for the time it took to write it so I hope you enjoy :) xx Fee

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The First Time He... | Optional Bias Scenario [Series] | Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: You have a bad day that only continues to get worse until he comes into the store and makes it a little bit better.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1122

The First Time He…Smiled

Your entire day has been a disaster.

From the moment you woke up — an hour after your first class had already started — you’ve encountered one problem after the another. Not only did you miss the review class for your final exam, which you felt like you needed given how much the material had been giving you trouble, but the bus that usually came every fifteen minutes decided not to show up.

After half an hour of waiting you caved and flagged down a taxi, dipping into what little extra spending money you’d managed to save after paying for rent and groceries, to get to your second class on time. You were only late by fifteen minutes, but your Professor had already used that time to split your class into groups for a new project and you were stuck with four unfamiliar faces instead of the classmates you usually worked with.

This wouldn’t have been a problem had any of them actually been as hard working as your usual group members, but the more they spoke, the less confident you grew in their abilities until you decided to shoulder most of the work yourself. You weren’t about to sacrifice your grades, even if it meant you had to cut down on your sleep a little more.

By the time you trudged out of class, the weight of the project resting heavily on your mind, you just wanted to go back to your small room on the other side of town and take a nap, but the sun was already starting to dip in the sky and you needed to get to the convenience store to cover the afternoon shift — something you regretted promising to do now.

As if you hadn’t already dealt with enough for the day, you realized as you stepped onto the bus and the driver glanced toward you, expecting you to tap your metro pass to the machine attached to the pole, that your wallet must have slipped out of the pocket of your coat in the taxi or during your dash across campus toward your class, because it was no longer in your possession.

After calling the store and promising to be there as soon as you could, you make the ten block walk against the wind and light drizzle, thankful that your wallet had been empty apart from your metro pass and ten thousand won. If you’d lost your bank cards as well, you might have just given up then and there.

By the time you arrived at the store, the girl behind the counter all but dove out of the door and the rest of the day settled into a familiar, but long stretch of quiet monotony. A few students and workers coming off of their shifts stopped in to pick up quick snacks or ready-made meals, but as the sky grew darker, the store remained empty for longer periods until you were finally certain you could begin studying for your final without further interruption.

Now, you stare down at the question you’ve been trying to figure out for half an hour, wishing desperately you’d been able to attend the review because at this rate you’re certain you’re going to fail and have to repeat the year. You grip the pen so tightly that your surprised it doesn’t snap clean in half from the pressure. Rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms, you take a few deep breaths and try to shake off the anxious feeling that’s consumed you.

The digital chime draws you away from your textbook and you’re almost relieved when you find a familiar face staring at you from across the room. He’s been in a few times since you gave him your name, but always in a rush, never saying more than a few words before he was out the door again.

Tonight looks like it’s going to be no different. He picks up his coffee —only one can, so not too late of a night ahead for him— and makes his way over to the counter. You try to put a smile on your face because it is nice to see him, but it must look strained because he pauses, setting the can on the counter and scrutinizing you with narrowed eyes.

“Is everything alright?” he asks as you drag the can to the scanner and wait for the beep of recognition.

“Long day,” you say with a distracted smile as you pull the register’s drawer fully open and tell him the total he must already anticipate. Instead of a card, he hands over exact change and you are so thankful for the ease of transaction you feel your shoulders lose a little bit of tension.

When you look back up after shutting the register, you expect him to be gone, but instead he’s still standing there, looking down at you. He’s got this knowing expression on his face that makes you grow weary. Before you can ask him what he’s thinking, he gestures over his shoulder to the aisle of snacks.

“What do you think is the best snack here?”

Your brows furrow. You weren’t expecting that question, but you still answer him, rattling off a few of your favourite sweets to eat while you study. He disappears down the aisle and you watch him pick up every item you mention before returning with an armful that he dumps between you two.

“Hungry?” you joke as you start up a new transaction. He cracks a smile — the first that you can actually recall being directed toward you — and you feel your cheeks heat up in a very obvious way. He hands you his card this time and when you reach for a plastic bag beneath the counter, you’re surprised when he tells you he doesn’t want one. “Isn’t this going to be difficult to carry?”

He shakes his head, shoving his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans and smiling again. You can’t help but return the gesture, which makes his own widen. “They’re for you.”

“Me?”

He nods. “You look like you need some cheering up. Eating something good always makes me feel better.”

You rest your hand on top of one of the colourful bags, a little more emotional than you would like to be. Because you didn’t have your wallet, you couldn’t buy yourself something on your way to your shift, and you’d contemplating swiping something from the store and paying later, but now you didn’t have to.

You stare up at him and open your mouth to say thanks, but he’s already by the door. He raises an arm in farewell before dipping out into the night.

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you for all the support of this little series <3 I’m glad y’all are enjoying it! I’ll try to post another update on Friday, let me know if there’s anything else you’d like me to write about in the meantime! - Fee x

[sarangscenarios-blog]

please continue the first time he... series~ we really like it

I plan to post a new part tomorrow! I just had a super busy weekend so I had no time to write :( <3

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oh my god.. the 'first time' scenarios are so good 😊 please keep up the good work

ahhh thank you I’m glad you like them!!

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I love what you've written so far!! Can't wait to read more! :3

thank you so much!! <3 

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The First Time He… | Optional Bias Scenario [Series] | Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: It’s been almost a month since you embarrassed yourself in front of a member of your favourite group. He’s back again, and this time he wants answers.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1094

The First Time He…Said Your Name

You are a superstar.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you squint fiercely, tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth in a show of absolute concentration. You make sure your elbow isn’t jutting out across the edge of the counter - which would make the shot a foul, according to the rules you’d devised yourself only minutes ago - before throwing the small paper ball.

It sails through the air…only to land beside the trash can. Again. There are at least twenty other little missiles that missed their mark scattering the floor. It’ll be a chore to clean up at the end of your shift, but this is the most fun you’ve had all week.

You sigh, but you aren’t deterred. Practice makes perfect, after all. You grab another straw from the box that sits beside the register (the straw-count is dwindling, and you’ll have to take all the unwrapped ones home just so your manager doesn’t find them stuffed in a trash bag and scold you for the wastefulness of your hobby) and unwrap it carefully so you get the most paper possible for your next projectile.

You take a deep breath and place your hand in line with the trash can. This is it, you’re certain of it. You can feel the difference in the air. This is going to be the shot that actually makes it into the can. Except, the ball veers off-course when the digital chime of a customer’s entrance makes you jerk your arm at the very last minute.

You turn your ireful gaze toward the customer, only to have it replaced by surprise when you see who it is.

It’s been at least two days since you thought about him, although it has taken you a full month to get to the point where you could actually forget your interaction and the immense embarrassment you felt every time you thought about it. He’s not wearing a mask this time, but he does have a hoodie pulled up over his hair.

It’s just as bright red in person as it looks on television. The intrusive thought almost makes you flush an identical shade. You’ve been keeping up with the group’s comeback, so seeing him in the flesh instead of as a two-dimensional image on your phone screen is just as jarring as it was the first time.

He glances in your direction before shuffling toward the hot drinks. He hasn’t been in for so long that you’d thought for sure it was a fluke that he’d even entered the first time. To be honest, you’d given up on ever seeing him again in real life.

When he gets to the counter, he places enough cans of coffee between you to serve a small army. You can’t help but quirk a brow as you begin to ring him up, your mind racing almost as quickly as your heart as you try to figure out if you should apologize for last time, not that he seems to remember you, anyway.

He looks tired. There’s makeup smudged around his eyes, which studiously remain fixated on his drinks. You can only imagine how demanding his schedule must be for him to resort to this much coffee. You accept his card after you tell him his total and decide that he doesn’t need the intrusion of your apology for something that clearly hasn’t crossed his mind.

His own eyes finally meet yours and his brows furrow. “Is it the style of our music - or is it the concept?”

The question comes so suddenly that all you can bring yourself to do is stare at him with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth.

“Sorry.” He grows sheepish, tucking his chin into his chest and rubbing the back of his head in an almost agitated manner. “It’s just — the last time I was in here you said you weren’t a fan and I’m still curious about it, I guess.”

This is the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth, that you’ve actually had their most recent release on loop while you study because it helps you focus, but the words stay jammed in your throat as he ruefully shakes his head and shoves the card that’s been hovering in the air between you two back into his wallet.

“Sorry,” he apologizes again and you almost smile because it’s a cute habit. “You probably don’t even know what I’m talking about, it happened such a long time ago.”

Except you’re surprised that he remembers. He’s obviously been busy with the comeback, with stages and fan meets almost every day if the pictures that flood your SNS are anything to go by, so how does he manage to remember what you would have thought an insignificant interaction?

“No, I remember,” you finally say, after an almost too-long period of silence. Your gaze drops down to the cans and you begin carefully packing them into a plastic bag. “I’m actually a little embarrassed…I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“No—no, don’t be embarrassed.” He shakes his head vehemently. “You’re entitled to your opinion. Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He lowers his tone and begins to grumble to himself, but you still manage to catch, “—probably thinks I’m conceited, asking about—”

He cuts himself short when you offer him the bag, nodding in thanks. He lingers, and you both stare at each other uncertainly. You’re about to ask him if there’s something else you can help him with when he asks,

“What’s your name?”

Panic floods you and without thinking you ask, “You’re not going to report me to my manager, are you?”

“I don’t think you not liking my group is a fireable offence,” he says, voice laced with amusement. “I just want a name to go with the face of the first anti-fan I’ve met in person.”

You almost melt from the sheer intensity of your blush. You resist the urge to fan your cheeks as you give him your name and he repeats it to himself.

“Well alright, Y/N. See you around.”

It’s not until a few minutes later, when you’re all alone in the deserted convenience store, that you realize you never corrected his conclusion that you’re an anti-fan.

Well alright, Y/N. See you around.

Your lips curve into a grin as you grab another straw and slowly unravel the wrapping. You have the suspicion that you will see him again, and this time you’re looking forward to it.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy the second part of this impromptu series!! Requests are open if you want me to write about anyone specific and I’ll hopefully be able to update this again in a few days! - Fee x

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I love ur scenarios omg 💕 keep it up xx

ahhhh thank you so much! 😬

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The First Time He... | Optional Bias Scenario [Series]

Part 1 | Part 2

The First Time He...Showed Up

Summary: You’re working the late shift at the convenience store when he walks in - and you can’t help but make a fool of yourself.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,161

The fluorescent lights are anything but flattering. They cast an unhealthy pallor on your skin as you press your elbows onto the counter beside the register, eyes fixed on the window at the other end of the store. You all but beg in your mind for someone to come in off of the street and reprieve you momentarily from your boredom.

At this time of night, there isn’t a lot of foot traffic. You would almost prefer the early morning shift instead, when commuters stop in to buy coffee or ready-made meals and the line for the register reaches the door, but since you started your winter classes, this is the only shift that works with your schedule and you’re in desperate need of the extra money.

You sigh, drawing your eyes away from the window and instead turning them back to the notebook you’re supposed to be focusing on. The one upside of working at such odd, quiet hours is that you can study in relative peace, with few interruptions. Except, as the hours drag on from late night to early morning, your motivation to actually study decreases.

You contemplate getting another cup of crappy instant coffee for yourself when the digital chime indicating a new customer sends a shock of adrenaline through your body, all sleepiness forgotten.

The man’s hood is pulled fully over his head, casting a shadow across his face. He wears a mask that covers all but his eyes and keeps his head bowed as he skulks through the aisles toward the refrigerated drinks.

You can’t help but become a little uneasy at the sight. Your hand drifts toward the button located beneath the counter - just in case he decides to try something. You’ve never had something happen for as long as you’ve been working in the store, but you’ve heard about convenience store robberies on the news.

You watch in what you hope is a nonchalant manner, switching your gaze from the notebook to the man every few seconds, as he stares at the drinks for an exorbitantly long period. Your heart beats faster with every passing moment he spends just standing there, doing nothing. Then suddenly - he swivels and stalks up to the counter.

Your fingers are gripping the edge of the counter tightly by this point and your throat is dry, as if there are a million cotton balls shoved inside it. You swallow tightly as he comes to a stop. He says something, but the mask muffles his words. Shakily, you ask him to repeat himself - what if he’s asking you to empty the register? Would you do it? You don’t love your job enough to get assaulted protecting the register, but you also suspect you’ll get fired if you just hand the money over.

The man sighs, glances over his shoulder toward the door - is he making sure there’ll be no witnesses? - but instead of pulling out some weapon and threatening you, he pulls his mask down so you’ll hear him properly. Now you’re not staring wide-eyed at him because you’re scared he’s here to rob the store, but because you actually know who he is.

It would be hard not to know. His group’s faces are plastered on the calendar in the workroom courtesy of the girl who works the afternoon shift and you know for a fact that he’s her favourite member. You’re a fan yourself, so you almost miss his words for a second time because you’re a little starstruck.

“Did you stop carrying Cantata’s Premium Latte?”

You blink up at him for a moment and his brows furrow. He must be wondering if you still don’t understand him, or if you’re just a little slow. You feel your cheeks heat up as you force your gaze over his shoulder instead.

“We’ve got them in the heated section,” you say, gesturing toward the corner beside the register where the hot water heater also sits. “Since it’s colder out, most people want their coffee warm.”

He scrutinizes you for a moment longer before nodding once and shuffling over toward the coffee. It only takes him a second to find what he’s looking for - not long enough for you to get ahold of yourself by the time he returns to the counter. He slides the can toward you and you robotically go through the motions of cashing him out.

You’re handing him his change, trying to figure out if it would be creepy to ask for an autograph for your coworker, when he speaks again.

“You want me to sign something?”

Your fingers grow clumsy because of your surprise and you almost drop the coins all over the counter.

“No, I’m good,” you say, abandoning the idea. You just won’t tell your coworker that he stopped in the store in the first place. You know that he won’t believe you if you say you’re getting the autograph for a friend, so instead, “I’m not really a fan,” slips from your mouth.

You don’t know what possessed you to lie and you half-expect him to call you out on your bullshit, but he doesn’t.

“Oh.” He sounds a little surprised. “Any…any particular reason why?”

He must take your dismissal personally. A part of you wants to backtrack, but you don’t think you could withstand the embarrassment.

“What I’ve heard isn’t really my style, I guess.”

You shrug, avoiding his gaze, but from the corner of your eye you see him nod slowly, twisting his head a little as if he’s trying to wrap his mind around what you’ve said.

“Alright, well, see you around.”

He raises the can in farewell before leaving the store. As soon as the door shuts behind him and he disappears from your sight through the window, you collapse against the counter, replaying the interaction in your mind, lamenting the fact that you probably wasted your only chance meeting a member of your favourite group in person.

Even though he isn’t your bias, you could have still gotten his signature for your coworker. That would have earned you some brownie points - maybe she’d have even covered a shift or two of yours if you ever needed it.

You rest your forehead against the cool countertop and grumble to yourself about your stubborn nature which had gotten in your way. Next time - if there is a next time - you decide, you’ll tell him the truth, even if the thought makes you want the ground beneath you to swallow you whole.

You pull yourself off the counter and slam your notebook down in front of you, intent on erasing your embarrassment by focusing on your work instead, but one errant thought shoves its way into the forefront of your mind that you can’t ignore.

Even though you’d never given him much thought before, too focused on the other visual members of the group, you definitely can’t deny that up-close, in person, he’s ridiculously cute.

A/N: So this was originally just going to be one scenario, but the first part got kind of long so I’m making it into a short series! It’ll be all about “firsts” (if you couldn’t tell from the title) and there’s no set length or number of parts - so we’ll see how far I take this! As always - requests are open, who I write about is in my FAQ and I hope you liked the first part of this series even though nothing much happens :) - Fee x

[sarangscenarios-blog]

Optional Bias Scenario | Bittersweet

Summary: You start a new job at a café and meet someone that you definitely weren’t expecting to.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1416

He’s actually here.

Your eyes drop back to the display case, fingers pausing around the silver foil of the cupcake you were about to move. You frown to yourself, feeling silly about the way your pulse jumped when you’d seen who walked through the entrance to the café.

You sigh, pushing the cupcake into line behind its siblings before sliding the door to the display case shut. You wipe your hands against the apron tied around your waist and approach the register.

You’d jokingly thought, when you first got the job, that you’d see idols all the time given the café’s close proximity to two entertainment buildings, but you’d never actually considered it an actual possibility. There were assistants to do coffee runs, after all - but here he is, proving you wrong yet again.

The first time he came in a month ago, it had been nearing midnight and the café was dead. The only customer was a frazzled-looking university student who didn’t even bother looking up from their textbook to see who’d entered.

Of course you’d noticed. 

You’d been stuck the late shift that week for training on cash since the traffic in and out of the café was more manageable and people were more forgiving late at night if you were a little slow. You’d been bored out of your mind, wiping down the front of the display case for what was probably the fifth time that past hour alone just because you were itching for something to do.

Your coworker was perched on a box behind the counter, flipping through a stack of index cards with furrowed brows, trying to get some last minute studying in for the test he had the following morning. He glanced up at the man approaching the counter and jerked his chin toward the register.

“You should know what to do by now.” His attention returned to his notes and you felt your heart fall into the empty pit where your stomach was supposed to be. You’d been manning the register by yourself all night, but it felt like day one all over again as you forgot how to even turn the screen back on from its sleeping function.

He had a camera in his hand and was speaking softly to it. He must have been filming for some reality show or something. Even though it should have looked strange, a person technically talking to himself in the middle of an empty café, he looked so comfortable and unselfconscious about it that it didn’t. He smiled when he finally reached the counter and gestured toward the small display card that featured the new latte your café was promoting.

“I’d like to try this, please.” He pointed the camera toward the card. “It looks yummy, right?”

Your hands fumbled as you tapped the screen and it came to life. Your eyes darted about as you tried to find the right buttons and ignore the way your heart was about to tear a hole through your chest because of how fiercely it was beating. Your fingers tingled as you reach the cash out screen; you were the literal physical embodiment of nervousness.

“It’ll be five thousand, three hundred won.” You resisted the urge to pat yourself on the back for not stuttering once when you spoke. He smiled again and you felt your cheeks flush as he reached into his wallet and passed you his card.

“You’re new,” he said and you almost dropped the small piece of plastic.

“I started yesterday.” You kept your eyes trained on the card machine, certain that if you snuck one more glance at him, what little composure you had would be a thing of the past.

“Ah.” The camera fell to his side. “I just got back yesterday, so that explains why I haven’t seen you before. Are you enjoying it so far?”

Your brows drew together; you were surprised that he was keeping up a conversation with you. People weren’t exactly talkative at this time, more concerned about getting through the night with a caffeine fix than learning your life story.

“Everything but the late hours,” you said and he laughed. You let your lips curve up slightly, pleased that you were able to incur that reaction, as you passed the card back. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, no rush.”

He returned to his camera while you wandered over to the espresso machine to make his latte. You glanced at him while he was entertaining himself and you couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face at his playfulness.

You called his name when his latte was ready and he returned to the counter with a bright smile. He accepted the drink you slid across the counter and raised it in thanks.

“See you around,” he said, before disappearing into the night again.

And you did.

You saw him every night for the next two weeks while you worked the late shift, but when you were finally done with training your manager decided to put you on afternoons and you haven’t seen him since.

You won’t lie and say that your heart doesn’t jump a little bit every time the bells above the entrance to the café chime during the slow lulls because a part of you still expects him to waltz in and order whatever drink the store is promoting that day. You also won’t say you’re not disappointed every time it’s not him, even though you feel ridiculous admitting it.

It’s not like you guys struck up the romance of the century with the small chatter you fell into while you made his coffee those nights, but you’d thought that he was a little interested, even after your coworker explained that he was usually that friendly with anyone working when he came to get his caffeine fix during his late hour rehearsal breaks. You’d stupidly let yourself be a little hopeful.

Now, nearly two weeks after your last night shift, you’d been about ready to give up that hope and settle into the reality that there’d been nothing happening there that hadn’t been built up in your mind, but there he is. And you’re not quite sure what to make of it.

The café’s pretty quiet, mostly couples sharing desserts in the late afternoon, or students trying to finish up work before their evening classes, so he has your full attention when he walks up to the register. He doesn’t look as bright as usual, wrinkles gracing his forehead while his hands are stuffed in his pockets as if he’s got something on his mind.

Your brows meet above the bridge of your nose as you eye his expression. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s great.” His face brightens in a forceful way which makes you less inclined to believe him, but it’s not your place to pry.

“I’m surprised to see you in here in the daytime,” you say honestly. “What can I get you today?”

You expect him to point toward the little promotional card beside the register, but instead he asks for an iced americano. You bite your tongue as you ring him up and go about preparing his order. You’re considering crossing that line to ask him if he’s actually okay but he speaks before you can get the words out of your own mouth.

“Would you like to grab coffee with me sometime?” he asks, speaking so quickly that his words slur together and it takes your mind a second to process what he’s said. Your pause must make him nervous because he continues to ramble, “I mean - you don’t have to. I don’t want to put you on the spot but I’ve missed seeing you and I don’t want to distract you while you’re at work and get you in trouble - ”

A smile spreads across your cheeks as you realize why he’d seemed so worried walking into the café. You’re relieved that you hadn’t been going crazy making things up in your head, and also a little flattered that he’d been forward enough to even say that he missed you.

“I’d love to,” you say as you push the iced americano across the counter so it sits between you two. Your nose wrinkles a little as you jerk your chin toward it. “But maybe we could do something other than coffee?”

He laughs and runs his hand across the back of his neck, nodding. “Yeah, that’s probably a better idea.”

A/N: Hey guyssss, so after completely binging on all the scenarios I could get my hands on, I decided that I wanted in on the action! I use to write one shots back in the day, but it’s been a while so I’m a little rusty. If you have any specific requests (that fall into the list of what I accept on my page), let me know! I’m thinking of trying to post at least one scenario a day as a way to keep practicing my writing, so always feel free to drop by if you want me to write about something (or someone) in particular! - Fee x