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junghelioseok · 3 years

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heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Text

ahem here is a self indulgent domestic nanami x reader fanfiction that i also posted on ao3. u can tell i wrote it bc i looked at nanami and said ‘that’s a man that wears sock garters and that’s very sexy of him’

routine // 3k words // nanami x reader warnings: afab reader, fem pronoun, domestic stuff, nsfw, fingering, creampie, idk pals i’m just thirsty

You don’t mind the mundane.

No, that’s not quite it. It’s not that you don’t mind the mundane – you do, when it becomes sticky and muddled and drags on and on and on. You’ve been trapped in an endless cycle like that before; allowing life to happen to you, as trade-off for simplicity. Planning things that didn’t materialise. You hadn’t realised that’s what you were doing, at the time – but looking back on it now, it’s clear as day, because it was exactly what had been happening to him.

Your life is not mundane. Your life is . . . routine.

Yes, that’s right. You stick to a schedule. You keep time. You plan things – and it’s not mundane, not any more, because this time as you stick to your routine, Nanami is right there beside you.

It’s domestic. Comfortable. Oh, you worry about him – he comes home enough times with scrapes and bruises he didn’t have before and tells you about his day, world-weary – but you also know he’s more than strong enough to withstand. You curl up next to him whilst he reads a book, or whilst you watch television. You cook for him on the few days off that he snatches for himself (though he often wraps himself around you whilst you do cook, directing you or helping. He’s a better cook than you, but you have more time than him). You drape yourself over the back of his armchair sometimes and work on the knots in his neck.

“You get too stressed,” you tell him. His lips quirk into a brief curve of a smile before they return to their usual position.

“Maybe,” he says. “But you help me with that.”

For all of the unusual things in your lives, your existence is uncomplicated. You watch weight roll off of him when he comes in through the front door and is once more safely ensconced in a little slice of home. You and he share the household duties; he’s meticulous and careful, and you admire him sometimes when you think he’s not watching for being so . . . balanced, you suppose.

(“That’s you, too,” he tells you. He shrugs. “Everyone else . . . they’re living absolute chaos. But I get to come back after I clock off, to you, and . . . this.” He gestures to the little home. It’s nothing special. It’s neat and tidy and small and the two of you have reasonable savings in the bank. Responsible. You think he keeps you balanced, too.)

But . . .

Well. He’s not always so in-control.

He hadn’t sounded harried when he’d called you. He doesn’t often; instead, his voice had been calm. You know Nanami well enough to know when there’s frustration bubbling under the surface, but his tone had been smooth.

“I’ll be home late,” he’d said. “Don’t wait up.”

“Overtime?” You’d asked, already looking at the pot boiling on the stove and wondering if it could be salvaged for tomorrow’s dinner. Nanami had paused, and then sighed.

“Mm.”

You don’t let yourself worry too much. Nanami handles whatever is thrown at him – he’s always in control, poised. . . The most you see him frustrated is from calls from Gojo in the middle of the night.

You put your own phone away. There’s no use in concern yet, you tell yourself.

You don’t start to worry until you crawl into bed without having heard from him. This is late, even for him. You try not to let your anxiety eat away at you as you close your eyes and lay your head on the pillow, but the scent of him permeates every part of your bedroom. One of his shirts hangs loosely on the back of the wardrobe door. The drawer on his side of the bed that contains a collection of novelty ties (bought by you, because you’d thought they were funny – and Nanami had smiled at the first one, and laughed at the second, so you just hadn’t stopped) is still half-open from him rifling through it this morning.

The click of a key in the front door makes you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. The sound of footsteps on the wooden floorboards, a familiar, steady cadence, makes you let go of sheets you hadn’t realised you were clutching.

Nanami’s head rounds the door.

“You’re late,” you tell him.

“I am,” he affirms. He steps into the room proper and you see that his shirt-sleeves are rolled up, and there’s a splash of blood on his left shoulder. He probably was in more bother than he let on, then. You don’t think it’s his blood, at least. He sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

You sag. You know it’s part and parcel of what he does – and so, you move in the bed from where you’ve unconsciously pressed yourself into his side to breathe in the familiar scent of him. You know Nanami doesn’t miss you’ve done it – he comes to sit on the edge of the bed as he meticulously undoes his tie.

He reaches over to you and cups your cheek in his hand, his fingers warm and calloused.

“How about I make it up to you?” He asks, and you sigh as he breaches the gap and kisses you. Everything about his kiss is familiar and comforting – you’re pressing back against him before you even think about it, hand coming to tangle in the neatly combed hair. He tastes like coffee, and it makes your eyes open against the kiss and check the time. It’s late. Nanami generally prefers to be sleeping by now. You'd once laughed and told him he was boring, and he'd raised his eyebrows and smiled as he'd told you that sleep was important. After spending the night wrapped around him, your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart - you'd been inclined to agree.

“Aren’t you tired?” You murmur, breaking the kiss yourself. Nanami quirks an eyebrow at you. The hand still on your face brushes across your cheekbone tenderly. You don’t think anyone who works with Nanami imagines him like this – messy-haired, half-undressed, his stoic composure gone to softness. Every time he even half-smiles, your heart feels like it will ricochet out of his rib-cage, but when he looks at you now you get the full thing.

“Too tired for you? Never.” He shifts on the bed, shrugging off his suspenders along with the stained shirt. He’ll do that laundry himself – he always does, when it’s bloodstains. “Besides,” he breathes as his hands move to stroke over your shoulders, his breath tickling the junction where your neck and collarbone meet and making you shiver. “I still have plenty of energy to work off before I can get to sleep peacefully.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I’d hate to be the reason you don’t get a fulfilling night’s rest—”

The bed covers are swept off of you. When Nanami has made up his mind to do something, he does it – and right now, it appears what he’s made up his mind to do is you. His hands are big on your hips, sliding up the loose shirt of your pyjamas. You let out a soft huff of breath as he pushes them up over your breasts that makes him lean in and kiss your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh. Your fingers flex on his shoulders as he cages you underneath him.

“Oh,” he promises against the skin. “When we’re done, I’ll rest very easy.”

You lose the shirt just as quickly as Nanami lost his, and then you both stop talking. Nanami is the kind of man who doesn’t use a hundred words when one or two will do – he’s happy to have conversations, when conversation is the name of the game . . . but conversation is not the name of the game when his mouth is busy kissing your neck, your throat, your collarbone . . . When his lips are wrapping around your nipple and teasing it to a hardened point until you moan aloud.

In the pit of your stomach is heat and fire and need. When Nanami moves against you and your thighs press together, you can already feel that you’re slick and warm with the promise of what is still to come – and when Nanami, too, moves, you can tell that he’s looking forward to things just as much as you are.

His thumbs hook into the shorts of the nightwear set you were wearing. The fear of less than an hour ago seems to have dissipated in the wind – it’s hard to remember how worried you were when Nanami comes home fired up like this. He drags the fabric down your thighs, tsk-ing at how they catch.

“A nightgown or shirt would be more efficient,” he tells you. “You’re welcome to one of mine.”

Your cheeks heat up at the idea of sleeping in one of his shirts, and Nanami doesn’t miss how your skin warms underneath him. You’re so cute. He kisses you again so he doesn’t embarrass himself, this time peeling off your underwear (the thin cotton clings to your damp sex and your breath hitches at how it feels, peeling away).

“Are you going to tell me it’d be more efficient if I weren’t wearing them?” You say, your voice coming out low and husky.

“I’d be right if I did,” he tells you, but he’s far more preoccupied with the button and zip of his trousers. You reach over to help him with it, your hand brushing the hot, hard length of him through the fabric – you always forget just how big he is until you’re confronted once more. Your body gives a low throb of arousal, a reminder that the need inside of you requires sating sooner rather than later.

Nanami is patient. You are not.

There. The zip, the button – and Nanami is pulling off the fabric, leaving it too in a pool by the side of the bed that you know he will probably manage to get into the wash basket before it ever crosses your mind. He’s still wearing socks and sock garters, and whilst normally you’d laugh at him and make him take them off before he got into bed . . .

Well. There are more important things to think about right now, and you can’t deny that the sock garters are endearing.

His cock brushes against your thigh and you start, a soft noise escaping your lips that makes him look down at you tenderly. He tips his head to the side in a silent question and you nod in a silent answer – his fingers push your thighs further apart, sinking into plush flesh, stroking along the slick outer lips of your sex--

His knuckle brushes the swollen bundle of nerves of your clit and you sigh, your hips bucking up for more of the friction. You know that this is just him being kind – a precursor to the main event – but you still can’t help but greedily seek out more and more of him. He clicks his tongue again.

“You’re so impatient sometimes,” he chides, though his cock hard and hot against your skin is just as impatient as you are. He slides one of his fingers inside you, your walls clinging tight to the digit. He pumps it in and out of you, once, twice – and then, a second finger is inside you, stretching you out. One of your hands twists into the sheets as you helplessly let him fuck into you with his fingers. You know that he’s doing it in preparation for fucking you – he often does – but it doesn’t mean that you’re any less impatient for the main event.

“You’re teasing me,” you tell him, breathlessly. He smiles, more to himself than to you.

“I suppose so,” he replies. He’s enjoying it. You know he is – tension is draining from his shoulders the more he looks at you, the fingers still plunging in and out of you growing more lax and liquid in their movements. The sound of him inside you is lasciviously loud in your bedroom. You don’t mind helping him work out his tension – whether with cuddling up to him, or cooking together, or massaging the knots from his back – but you do mind when he teases you--

“Please,” you say, breathlessly, your hips rocking in time with his hand. He can never resist it when you’re polite.

His fingers come out of you with an audible slick noise.

“You’re ready, anyway,” he murmurs. He absent-mindedly places the two fingers that were buried inside you against his tongue, tasting you – your cheeks are hot again at the way he tips his head back, savouring the taste of you. Just another little moment of intimacy. It’s not unusual, but that doesn’t make it feel any less erotic.

He cradles you like you’re something precious as he settles heavy between your thighs. His hands on your hips are certain. There’s a warmth about Nanami that few people are privileged enough to see – one you’re privileged enough to see every night and every morning, when he wakes up next to you sleep-tousled or comes in and leaves a warm package from your favourite bakery in front of you that he picked up on his way home.

You breath through the initial sting as he stretches you out on him, and then there is nothing but the pleasure of being filled. You feel yourself mould to his cock inside you, your walls snugly accepting him, hot and wet around his shaft. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and as he bottoms out inside of you, for a moment you two are joined entirely. You can feel his heart beating against yours.

“I love you,” you breathe, against the shell of his ear. He kisses at your neck in return, his voice very soft as he returns the affirmation of one of his own. He is not one for sappy declarations – he is a man of small acts of service. Still. He speaks it against your skin and it feels like a tattoo on your heart.

“I love you too.”

After that, neither of you speak. Instead, you concentrate on Nanami’s powerful hips as they roll against you, his cock brushing the sensitive spots of your wall, stoking the flame inside of you that’s been steadily burning since the moment he untied his tie. You concentrate on moving your own body in tandem with his, the squeeze of your channel around him, the way that he grinds himself just so against your clit with every thrust so that your body feels fizzing with unreleased promise.

His mouth against your collarbones and neck. Your nails digging into his shoulders. He’s well-built despite seeming nondescript in his suit and tie – you’re heart-achingly familiar with the taut muscle making up his arms and backs. The places he’s scarred, even after being healed up.

You can hear him breathing heavier and heavier against your ear as his peak nears. Your own is rushing up on you, as Nanami’s hips begin to rock quicker and quicker, his cock plunging impossibly deep into you with every drive. You think, for a wild moment, he’s going to come first, despite the fact he’s always been nothing but the gentleman in control of himself no matter how many times the two of you become one--

And then, the hot ball of fire in the pit of your stomach becomes overwhelming and bursts into pieces, wet heat soaking you, waves of pleasure lapping at you as your body shakes and constricts around him. Everything is so hot. His body above yours is burning, warm, needful--

Your nails have dug into his skin hard enough to leave crescent shaped marks, but Nanami is chasing his own release now, his eyes clouded with lust as he looks down at you. Aftershocks of your own orgasm make your channel pulsate around him--

You’re tender as you pull him down by the neck and kiss him, teeth worrying at his bottom lip – and he groans into your mouth at the same time as you feel his cock inside you twitch, and the heat of his come fill you. That’s not a problem. You’ve talked about that plenty of times – both of you agree that you’re happy the way you are. Children are dangerous.

. . . But it’s nice to feel claimed by him. Nice to have him rest hot and heavy inside you, like a marker of his affection even as he’s pulling out of you and leaving you full and heavy and sticky. He smooths kisses onto your brow. He doesn’t murmur sweet words against you, but you know he’s thinking them if only from the way he holds you and the way that his hands dance over your skin like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

(You are; and he is to you, though neither of you say it aloud. In the sanctity of the quiet bedroom, though, both of you know it as an absolute fact.)

He’s breathing heavy as he sits on the edge of the bed again, reaching down to undo his sock garters and remove the socks themselves. The tell-tale rustle of clothing and slam of the drawers on his side of the bed tell you he’s neatly folding the dirtied garments and getting out something to wear in bed himself.

“Are you tired now?” You ask him. Nanami turns his head to look at you, and you can see the tell-tale sign of shadows under his eyes.

“Yes,” he says. You laugh, and the sound seems like pealing bells to him. You wrap an arm about his waist and pull him against the bedsheets, curling a leg over his, wrapping yourself around him in an embrace that he at first resists before leaning into.

“It’s easier if you don’t get dressed.” You mumble against his neck, as you nestle yourself into the crook of his shoulders. Nanami uses one arm to pull up the bed covers he stripped from you earlier. “More . . .” You stifle your own yawn. “More efficient, if we decide to waste time in the morning.”

The covers wrap around both of you, the wrinkled clothes forgotten (Nanami will tut at himself in the morning, but for now, he’s enjoying your body so close to his).

“Time with you,” he says softly, “is never wasted time.”

#writing #not jojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #not sfw #i am not a multi fandom blog.... YET!!!!#jjk posting #jjk writing tag

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bunchofstraydogs · 3 years

Text

Dazai Osamu in a relationship

Just a lil warning before you proceed: dis a chonky one, kay?

○

Depending on why Dazai is in a relationship affects how he will act with his partner.

If Dazai is curious about them, enough to enter the relationship,

it will last at best a handful of months, at worst about 2 weeks. Enough to get to know them, test them out in terms of reaction, values, honesty and morality, and get bored of them. Thus leading to him braking up with the person or, if he predicts that the person would react badly and cause a scene, get them to break up with him. But even that is dubious because i doubt Dazai would make the relationship official. He would probably just act as if they're dating, leading the partner to believe they actually are without having to verbally confirm anything, and then as soon as he loses interest, pulls a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't and disappears with little to no notice. Hey, he never said they were dating, he calls everyone Belladona, the fault is that person's for being delusional. Yes, he is an asshole, what did you expect of Dazai?

But if Dazai is in love?? Unrecognizable.

I will make a separate headcanon(? whatever these are I'm writing) on what i think a person should be like to sweep Dazai of his feet, but now i want to concentrate on what he would be like in such a relationship.

Is it possible for Dazai to fall in love? Absolutely. He loved Odasaku and Ango, perhaps not romantically, but he's definitely capable of love. People like him- aware of the world's cruelty, dealing with demons and guilt, roaming the world for the sole reason that they haven't died yet, hoping to find something worthwhile they can feel the need to be selfish about and call theirs; don't fall in love, they crash desperately. It takes a lot for them to feel those emotions, but when they do, they can never really let them go.

He would try to act as he usually does in public and try approaching the subject of his trepidation and disarray in many different ways. Distancing himself and going as far to actively avoid them would just come back and bite him in his boney ass. To effectively avoid someone, you need to know their schedule, hobbies, interests, habits, etc. And having learned that would just constantly remind him of them, they'd never leave his mind. He'd look on the clock, see the time and know that they'll be in that specific class because he knows their whole curriculum and class schedule/ at the grocery because they're surly out of their favourite snack/ doing black laundry and yes, he knows unnecessary details about them as well. After that disastrous failure, he comes back running and commences new ways to handle that person. These beta testings are for him as much as they are for them. Just how much and what exactly does he feel for that person, what buttons can he push and which ones he doesn't want to.

When i say Dazai in love would be unrecognizable, i mean it. Not superficially, where everyone can see it, but where it matters.

After doing his best to rail in the unfamiliar feelings under control, going as far as using some of Mori's techniques, the realization of the situation he's found himself in hits him hard.

He comes back as if nothing happened.

The deadpan that person gives him and a "Are you done with your bullshit or do you need some more time to brood about issues you made with yourself?" He doesn't even blink, "Oh, my Belladona! Does that mean you've missed me? Were you worried about me as well??"

All of this was said in your typical, Dazai maniac style, the only difference is that he actually wants an answer. He wants to hear the confirmation, in whatever form it may come- he can read between the lines and body language, just give him something to work with. He's desperate.

While the public Dazai persona won't change, his inner musings and his approach to the love interest will.

Osamu will, sometimes sneakily, usually not so subtly, immerse himself into their daily life. Get them accustomed and used to his presence. What this will do is cause a sense of familiar coexistence, that of people living together; make the person unconsciously continue to include him in their activities; learn to depend on him (not in a unhealthy, yandere way, but if their car brakes down or they're feelinh unsafe, Dazai will be the first person they feel the urge to call) because Dazai can be reliable and he will be reliable for that special person. He will also be the first person they share good news with as well, because if someone is always there for and with you, it's only natural.

Make no mistakes, Dazai is transparent only when he wants to be.

The reasons he does this is because 1) he wants to gauge their reaction to his great interest in them, 2) mask his subtle advances which are the most important part of integrating himself into their life, 3) to get that person in the position where he needs them to be for him to move on to the next phase of his plan.

Now, i may have said plan, but that's a somewhat loose term since what he'll do next depends on their reaction. He definitely has a rough outline of the whole thing in his head, but he's also adaptable and ready to react accordingly to whatever they may throw his way.

[I will be using l/i or LI for "love interest" bc I'm tired of writing that person or whatever, okay? Good.]

Once his l/i made effort to go out of their way for him or commit any type of love language, basically:

act of service- pay for his bills, massage his shoulders, buy crab based food or alchohol he really likes for their own fridge so that he can have it when he's over (often) even if they don't like those things especially then

words of affirmation- thank you Dazai, how was your sleep?, please take better care of yourself i can't help you if you're not making an effort

physical touch- ruffle his hair, lean on him when tired, hold his hand or wrist because it's crowded and it would be a pain to search for you Dazai

gift giving- "I noticed you were running out of bandages", "I bought you food, figured your lost case would forget to eat", "saw this mackerel, reminded me of you^^" "BELLADONA, NO >:("

quality time- spending nights with him because he has insomnia, playing games at the arcade, drive around town run from the cops

He would be overwhelmed. In the best way possible. He'd feel overwhelmingly good and pleasant and warm and worried.

He didn't feel like this, ever.

Not even with Odasaku and Ango. They were probably his first friends, but that's the thing. They didn't make his heart race, they didn't throw him into panic attacks, they didn't overwhelm him, they didn't keep him up at night because he couldn't get them out of his head or completely monopolise his mind during the day.

He gets panic attacks.

A lot of them, actually. Usually he can fake being fine, but sometimes he hyperventilates and can't breathe and all that he can smell is the blood on his hands and his chest is as hollow as l/i's eyes. He knows what can happen. They can and will be used against him. Hell, it could even be an accident. He is vulnerable just because they exist and he can't do shit about it.

He could do his thing: pull some strings, have them move to another country and never speak to each other ever again. He has the power, but he lacks the strength. He could do it, but he doesn't want to. His thumb won't press the numbers, his voice died out, his mind went blank.

The wind blows and it carries their scent with it. The bells ring and it's their laughter that resonates within. His bandages ruffle and it's the warmth of their touch he feels. He's dying, but he's not just ready yet to leave. Hopefully, Odasaku will patiently keep a seat for him.

That was what gave him away, actually.

That's when Ranpo realised, with zero doubt, that Dazai Osamu is in love.

Dazai could be going on and on about suicide.

Enter l/i.

"I found an amazing tree yesterday with really sturdy branches. I wanted to test them out today, but i promised l/i I'd go to the new bakery with them today and who would they go with if i die?? Unacceptable!"

Ranpo: "A new bakery? I'll happily take your place."

"UNACCEPTABLE!!"

With every panic attack he feels stranded on an island in the sea of death.

He's exhausted. For the first time he finally wants to escape alive. Then they walk in and the storm in the sea moves to his heart. And into his stomach and his hands and his knees.

"I'm here for you, Osamu. Everything is going to be fine."

His insomnia goes by a different name now.

It still keeps him up at night and makes him restless.

But this time, when he fills his nth glass of whiskey for the night, when the TV is muted and the trafic quiet, when he can hear their breathing beside him in their shared bed, he raises the glass to hope for the halcyon days.

●

Fucking finally. You think you're exhausted, you waste of bandages?? I have a final today I'm going to fail and actually wrote about your musky ass. You try doing that with my brain.

Hope you guys like it and if you made it this far, here's a cup of ☕ or 🍵, whichever you prefer. I wrote him as i see and envision him. Hope it all makes sense. He's a complicated character, but he is still human and he is not immune to emotions.

Have a good one~☆

I will probably come up with more things for him, because i doubt i covered everything, but for now this shall do.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu in a relationship

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campfire-collective · 2 years

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hey!! I found the light house discussion to be very fascinating. I'm so glad you could find something to help you sleep. it's a process for sure but that's super cool and awesome. proud of you for working on helping yourself!

also it's super unique as well.. I've never heard of anything like this..?

i was wondering... i don't exactly understand when you two speak about the lighthouse. You said you bought it? but it's an idea?

I tried looking stuff up for it... is it a solo rpg you found? how did you come up with that idea to use it like that and do you have any suggestions for people who want to get into something like that?

i struggle with winding down for sleep and i really need more creative outlets so i'm super curious, but please, don't feel pressured to respond or anything. /srs /nm

I wish you the best of luck, as well, and I hope your night tonight is good :)

ohh okay i'll answer this one b4 i go to bed so i don't forget (n then good night to everyone because it is nearly 2am dear god when did THAT happen)

okay so i bought a game called "the lighthouse at the edge of the universe." if you want i can probably find a link for you. it's a journaling rpg, so basically it's a pdf (which i printed into a nice foldable little booklet that fits into my notebook) that has various prompts and things to sort of guide you to tell a story. e.g, you might flip a card that says what kind of event happens ("something needs to be fixed") and then roll a dice for outcome ("you fail"), and then you tell a little story based on that.

so i bought the game but obviously you cannot purchase an Idea. the lighthouse in my brain was free.

i have a BUNCH of solo rpgs bc i'm really into them (if u remind me i'll share some of my favorites bc i can't remember the names rn), and this one explicitly had the instructions "intended to be played before bed." being the good rule following autistic that i am (/lh), i obviously very eagerly went to bed on time to play it as soon as possible. match made in heaven.

i don't know how much i paid for it but these things tend to run under $10, and usually far cheaper. frankly i just snoop on itch.io bundles and snap things up when i can afford them. also drivethrurpg (i think that's what it's called?), but i use itch.io more.

using it as an innerworld experience tool came pretty naturally to me: it's a reflective game that i was already writing about myself and using to reflect my mood/etc., and i've always fallen asleep by thinking about stories. (i have/had maladaptive daydreaming traits. i never was fully madd, but definitely i veered close to it.)

if u want to use a solo rpg for innerworld things, my advice is to look for one that's specifically a journaling rpg, because some aren't. hearth has some more "crunchy" ones (i use that word very loosely because by their nature, all solo rpgs tend to be pretty soft). the qualities that make this work for me:

game is continuous (each entry takes place at the same lighthouse which i build and develop over time. that's a part of the game. there's no ending point, and there's not really a story.)

game doesn't focus on interpersonal interactions

game encourages you to use ur mood/etc. as prompts/inspiration (bc innerworld experiences are metaphorical, this helps it translate well)

lots of solo rpgs r free! they tend to use only a few things (my solo rpg bag has a notebook, where we write all of them, a d20, two d6, a coin, and a deck of cards, and that covers basically every game, barring the ones which use a tarot deck), and they span very wide genres. it's a lot of fun if you like that structured storytelling crunch.

ok this was longer than i meant whoops gn!

-sparrow

#ask #virtualisolationexperience #mod sparrow #mine #i was like oh i'll answer this quick b4 bed #because frankly i don't want the others talking about my goddamn lighthouse #and then it turns out i'm chatty whoops #but i'm going to bed for real now i promise

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You’re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I��ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

#richie tozier #My writing #richie x reader #the losers x reader #it x reader #it imagines #richie tozier x reader

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slytherinsnekxvii · 4 years

Text

this isn't my best work, but it's still pretty good for something i wrote when i was 15 after having a half a year of writer's block. anyways, ahem, presenting the fic in which severus says fuck it after the lake incident and just doesn't go back to hogwarts but potentially gets dragged into the war anyway despite living in the muggle world for like,, three years, part 1 (aka the only chapter i wrote bc my writer's block came back oops):

It starts simply, like most things do. It starts with a few words, tossed out without care and full of childish conviction. It escalates to brawls in the corridors and duels in the dungeons--if you could even call them that when it was four-on-one and most encounters left him reeling. It continues until he's twitchy and hypervigilant and awkward, always on the lookout for an attack, ready to bite before anyone could bite him.

It ends much the same. The events leading up to this are a production fit for the theatre, if the crowd is anything to by, but the ending itself is quite simple. Gasping for air near the shore of the Black Lake and battling a headache that hurts almost as much as the sharp press of his heart at the thought of what he'd done to Lily, he simply gives up. He picks himself up, tells himself this is the end of it and goes about collecting his belongings.

His wand comes to his hand easily enough with a mumbled Accio. His bag does, as well. Its contents, on the other hand, have to be collected by hand. His textbooks and ink are strewn beneath the tree, mostly, but the loose parchment and his quill are lost to the wind. He snatches up what he can find before someone gets it into their head to come further humiliate him and turns to head back into into the castle. Only to be smacked in the face by a bound sheaf of parchment and a quill. It's suspicious, and he's tempted to burn it then and there. It's his, but they were definitely scattered about the grounds two seconds ago. He doesn't burn it. He hesitates, puts it in his bag and returns to the castle, intent on making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

The apology doesn't go well. Lily isn't interested, refuses to hear it. He returns to the Slytherin dorms, drops into his bed and thanks Merlin that they'll be going home soon. Cokeworth is God-awful, but at least there's only one man trying to kill him there and only one woman for him to disappoint.

So, he waits it out. Spends his final classes looking over his shoulder and staring blankly at his parchment every time he remembers that they tried to kill him and they humiliated him and they got away with both. He shrinks into himself, avoiding the corridors at all costs, skipping meals to avoid being in the Great Hall and spends as much time as possible in the Library and the dusty old Potions Lab on the Fourth Floor that no one knows about, losing himself in research so he doesn't have to interact with his Housemates. He sits alone at the Leaving Feast, refuses to touch his plate until Evan Rosier falls into the seat next to him and bothers him into eating. The Headmaster dismisses them, says that they'll see each other come September and lets them filter out onto the train.

He ends up sharing a compartment with Mulciber, Avery and Rosier even though he's barely spoken to any of them since the incident. Evan needles him about everything and nothing the whole way to King's Cross, and when they get there, Evan claps him on shoulder and that's goodbye.

He gathers up his things, goes to meet his mother so they can Apparate home and not waste what little money they have on transport. Eileen's cheeks are sunken, her arms rail thin, her dress loose-fitting. He'd still rather see her than anyone even loosely affiliated with Hogwarts. She nods at him, he nods back. They go home.

He spends his summer making himself useful. He does odd jobs for the neighbours, is grudgingly polite to his father, takes care of his mother. By the time term rolls around, people are talking about that Snape boy. Strange, and quiet, too, but he works well, doesn't he? September first dawns bright and early, and Severus doesn't go back to Hogwarts.

He studies at home instead, nose buried in his mum's old books. He plants the few ingredients he has hidden away in his trunk at the back of the house and uses what grows to brew medicines and weedkillers and anything he can think of after experimenting a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith down the street both swear up and down he's working magic on their little garden and their old bones.

He feeds cats, delivers packages for the grocer, takes tables and nightstands home to cast Reparo on. Someone tells the pub owner about him, and the next thing he knows, he's frying chips and learning how to mix drinks even though the most complicated thing anyone ever orders is a pint of the beer that they have on tap.

It's not a bad existence. Eventually, slowly, his mother starts coming back to herself. She takes over the brewing when he isn't around. Annotates his annotations and even makes a trip to Diagon Alley for more ingredients to add to their garden when Severus forgets to write Narcissa to ask her to send a few more.

Severus is old enough now to drag his father home from the pub behind him when he's done working. One evening, they come home and Tobias nearly trips over the end table that Severus is meant to be fixing for Mr. Williams three houses up. Severus works his wand out of his boot and goes to cast a spell, but Tobias grumbles and bats his hand away. Drunk as he is, he still digs out his toolbox and gets to work. The job turns out almost decent.

By December, Severus is at the pub, feeding cats on his break and making deliveries when he has the time. Eileen is brewing and Tobias is doing carpenter's work fixing and building wardrobes, cupboards, cabinets and everything else. It keeps him busy enough that some days he doesn't see a drink at all. It's not much, but there's a little food on the table at the end of each day, and Severus thinks that he's probably better off than he would have been at Hogwarts.

Sometime around Christmas, his mother talks him into getting a Muggle education and writing his NEWTs. He writes the O-Levels for his Muggle exams in January. They're a breeze, given how well-read he is. He sees Petunia at the store shortly after, and she sneers vaguely in his direction. He hears her condescending voice in the back of his head and decides to sit the A-Levels in May out of spite.

His birthday comes and goes, the NEWTs come right after and he aces each and every one of the written exams. The practicals are spread out across the following weeks, and he's leaving the Ministry after his last exam to find that the date coincides with that of a field trip for the Sixth Years at Hogwarts.

He watches them a little, tearing his gaze away after he catches sight of a tanned arm draped over a shoulder touched by a red braid. The students mill near the doors for a while and so, Severus looks around for escape routes, eyes skipping hurriedly from door to door until they rest on a Ravenclaw who'd also taken the January NEWTs. All kinds of people had been there, adults who hadn't passed when they were younger and needed to retake the exams to get jobs, teenagers who had family fortunes waiting for them whose parents wanted them to at least look like they were competent, and overachievers--like Severus assumed the Ravenclaw was--who wanted to know where they stood before the actual exam. He jerks his chin toward another door, this one proclaiming to lead to the "Apparition Division". Severus nods once at him and makes his way toward it.

There's a one-day course for Apparition, apparently. The woman at the receptionist desk doesn't even bother looking at him, just points him in the direction of the Training Room with her nail file. He stays for nearly the rest of the day, until they're finally done. He gets his license and is quietly pleased to see that the building is nearly devoid of life when he leaves. He goes home.

May and June come around and bring with them the A-Levels. He finds them only marginally more challenging than his O-Levels and returns to his routine. It's a nice routine, which takes him all the way through to July of the next year when Lily starts coming in with Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The first time it happens, he leaves the counter so fast that the patron he'd just given a glass of water to is convinced he teleported. He's already taken his regular break to go feed Mrs. Jones' cats, so he steps into the kitchen and tells Jimmy he's taking a smoke break. Jimmy snorts and reminds him that he doesn't smoke.

He fidgets, trying to think up a way to avoid going back out, when the ruckus they're making makes Jimmy look through the little window and see the lot of them crowded around a little table. He gets a peculiar look on face for a bit, before he asks Severus if they have something to do with why he doesn't go to his fancy school anymore. He doesn't need an answer, just tells him to keep an eye on the food and steps out to man the counter. Severus stays late, frying chips and washing dishes until the early hours of the morning when Jimmy pats him on the back and kicks him out.

It keeps up until September comes around, and by then, Severus has taken so many smoke breaks that he's actually started smoking. He keeps smoking long after they're gone.

He goes back to his routine until it's broken again by a letter that comes by owl. It's a short letter, coming from a Potions Master whose apprentice had been overseeing the exams. It claims that his work was the best either of them had seen in years and after asking around, they'd found that he was unbound to any Master and was highly recommended by the Malfoys. It ends with an offer. Severus would think himself foolish not to accept, so, he does. After that, two days a week are dedicated to Flooing to Master Diogene's laboratory to fulfil the requirements of his apprenticeship. It finds its own little nook in his routine and so he continues until June of 1980.

He's preparing to go to the pub when there's a knock at the door. It's not so uncommon anymore, so he thinks nothing of it, only that he hopes it doesn't take too long. His shift starts in half an hour. He pushes his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, where they perpetually are these days, and decides he'll roll them up properly later. He opens the door.

"Good afternoon," a very pregnant Lily says, and standing next to her is the Ravenclaw from the Ministry, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, his entire being alert.

"Good afternoon," he replies, awkward. After a long moment of silence, he asks, "Can I help you?"

"Depends on whether or not you let us in," she says.

Wordlessly, he steps aside, sliding the three pairs of shoes nearer to the wall in order to let them pass. "Do you want tea?"

"No," she says, at the exact same time her Auror friend says, "Thank you."

He gestures them into the little kitchen, where they sit at the little table where he and his mother and his father take their meals. He tugs his wand out of his boot, flicks it so that the cauldron bubbling away on the stove scoots aside but doesn't spill. The burner beneath lights on its own. He puts the kettle, already full, on to boil. "So," he begins, absentmindedly rolling up his sleeves. "Is there something you need from me?"

Lily smiles, strained. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Sure," he says, quietly. "You made it very clear that you would prefer if we weren't, though."

Her expression twists. "And with good reason," she grits.

He says nothing. The kettle whistles. He searches for the boxes of tea, sets about mixing two cups of mint. He puts them both on a tray with milk and sugar, as well as the small container of honey kept for special occasions. He puts it on the table.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him with bright, green eyes aflame with old anger. She picks up one of the teacups and starts doctoring it to her liking. Her Auror friend follows suit. It really is obvious, Severus thinks, watching the man scan the room from top to bottom, corner to corner. He sighs. "Why are you here, Lily?"

She glares at her tea. The Auror shifts uncomfortably. Severus sighs again. "You know, when people visit old friends, they usually don't bring Aurors with them."

"Trainee, actually. This is my last year." He grins sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Severus nods.

He leans over the table, stretches out a hand. His right, Severus notices. He leans over and shakes with his left.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Auror trainee introduces himself.

"Severus Snape, but you already knew that."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Lily continues to glare at her tea. Shacklebolt fidgets. Severus stares, adjusts the heat on the burner below the cauldron. Silence prevails. The door creaks open, just then, and Eileen comes in, stirring rod in hand. "You'll be late if--oh," she says, noticing their guests. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," the other three respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't Lily Evans. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? You look well," Eileen says, nudging her son out of the way so she can poke at the mixture in the cauldron.

"You as well," Lily mumbles. "And it's, ah, it's Potter now, actually. Lily Evans Potter."

"Ah, I see. My mistake. Congratulations are in order, then, Mrs. Potter."

"Congratulations," Severus echoes.

"And you're a Shacklebolt, yes?" Eileen continues, her hands methodically sprinkling ground lavender into the cauldron. "Elodie's son, I should think. You resemble her quite a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainee replies. "Grandmother says I'm nearly a carbon copy."

Eileen hums, lowers the heat under the cauldron. She takes out the stirring rod, examining the clinging lavender paste before wiping it off and placing it on the counter. "I suppose I'll leave you it, though Doris just passed, and she said that Jimmy has a full house, so, do try to hurry. It's already nearly four."

"Yes, Mam."

She leaves, and once more, silence settles over the small kitchen. Severus looks at the clock on the wall, sees that it does, indeed, say that it's minutes to four. Eleven minutes, to be exact, and it's a ten minute walk to the pub. He starts gathering the tea things, has just taken Shacklebolt's empty teacup when Lily clears her throat.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asks.

"No," Severus tells her, and takes her teacup. Ten minutes to four.

"Prove it," she says, glaring.

Severus sets down the tray and leans across the table, arms outstretched, palms up, forearms exposed. The skin on either arm is pale, smooth and utterly unmarked, save and except for the scars one is bound to get when their preferred work involves knives and hot cauldrons.

"You keep regular contact with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as well as Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, all of whom are suspected Death Eaters. Why?"

Severus' eyes narrow. "Lucius is sponsoring my Potions Mastery. Narcissa, for whatever reason, enjoys my conversation. Regulus and Evan both seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't speak to them at least once a week and I haven't been able to disabuse them of the notion--though, not for lack of trying."

"So, you aren't planning to become a Death Eater?" Seven minutes to four.

"I'm not," Severus says, biting down on something rising in his chest. He returns the tea things to their proper places, washes the cups and sets them to dry. When he looks at them again, Lily's glare has softened into an unwavering stare.

"Are you certain?" she asks, and Severus grits his teeth.

"Oh, no, not at all. I only left the Wizarding World to live in a Muggle neighbourhood with my Muggle father, work for a Muggle and feed old ladies' cats and fix their husbands' cabinets because I thought it would make it easier for me when I decided I wanted to murder them all. Obviously," he snaps, throat closing around the words as soon they've been forced out of his mouth. His jaw clamps shut. Three minutes to four.

"You're being an a—" she starts, but then she bites her tongue. "Why... why did you leave?"

He stands silent for a moment. "Reasons I don't believe we have time to discuss. It appears that I'm late for work, I'm afraid." The clock reads three fifty-nine. By the time, he reaches the front door, it will be four o' clock. He starts walking.

"But–" Lily begins, standing.

He gestures them onto the porch while he shoves his feet into his boots. "Terribly sorry to leave in a hurry like this, but duty calls. Things to do, people to see. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter. Auror Trainee Shacklebolt." Four o' clock.

"Really–"

"Until next time, Mr. Snape," Shacklebolt interjects, and with a stiff nod, he and Lily make their way towards the Apparition Point they'd used and Severus is walking down the street. He exhales, slowly, carefully at the quiet, telltale crack of Disapparition off in the distance. He picks up the pace and hopes that'll be the end of it. He knows it won't, though. Until next time, Shacklebolt said.

It isn't the end, of course. It never is. There's a knock at the door just before he's ready to leave the next afternoon, and he contemplates just not answering the door and staying at home for the foreseeable future. There's enough food to last at least a week, and he could always just tell Mrs. Havisham that he wasn't feeling well. The news would make it around the town and back within the day. The knock sounds again. He sighs and gets up to go answer it. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you want to. May I come in?" Shacklebolt asks.

Against his better judgement, Severus lets him in.

#severus snape #snapedom #pro snape #fic #i didn't expect anyone to take me seriosuly but someone did and goddamn it i'll be damned if i don't give them something to read #anyways have fun #probably a bit ooc #but that's what makes aus fun amirite hehe #alright that's enough from me

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jiminrings · 4 years

Note

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again??

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?”

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he’s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!!

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

#feedback pls and thank you :D I WAS SCREAMING THE WHOLE TIME I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW I NEED TO SLEEP #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon imagines #namjoon oneshot #namjoon oneshots #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon au #namjoon fluff imagine #namjoon fluff imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon fics #namjoon fic recs #namjoon scenario #bts namjoon imagine

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thegeminisage · 3 years

Note

dear TGS,

I was looking back through your writing masterpost and especially your outline (bc I LOVE & ADORE a good chart) and I was wondering how you figured out what the main points you wanted to hit upon each chapter would be? (the “abuse arc,” “John’s ‘case’” etc) and how dedicated were you to hitting them in each POV? I love the idea to remind one’s self to be aware of talking heads etc but was making sure the abuse arc (for example) is in every scene something you knew from the onset? Or more of an editing thing?

P.S. if you just marked them off bc you finished edits and didn’t need them in the chapter you are free to call me a dummy lolll

this is writing outline chart anon - wanted to be clear it wasn’t about the content itself!!! I thought the abuse arc was done spectacularly and I loved BR. the idea of writing down what things need to appear for SURE each chapter just fascinates me :) you don’t have to post this part I just wanted to be sure you knew :) :)

(posts anon is talking about are here & here & here & here, sorta)

noooo dw i got it exactly <3 this is such a good question too bc the answer is actually complex! (ALSO THANK YOU 🥺🥺🥺 i can’t believe the fic still gets so much attention and love after almost a year!!!)

for starters it’s all really really really variable, dependent on the general situation and how on top of my shit i am - i made this chart for broken road WELL after i had started writing and was getting into the editing. (broken road was a weird case re: timing because when i started writing it i was NOT planning on finishing it, i was just writing it to be writing something, and then i did decide to finish it after all. so a lot of the stuff i would normally have done early in the process i wound up skipping and then had to SIGH go back and do later.) but i also made a different chart for my merlin fic where i had a bunch of columns picked out before i started working, and then i wound up going back to add more in later. so as for the “when” part of your question - whenever! before writing or during writing or during editing! it’s all happened. however i do find that i strongly prefer to do it as soon as possible bc this minimizes my least favorite part of the process (editing) BUT if you wind up needing to make it when your fic is 75% complete and you need to stop and do FIVE. WEEKS. of restructuring, you know, it happens :| that was NOT fun but i got there!!!

deciding which main points go in the spreadsheet: two qualifications. first is, “will i forget to do this if i don’t write it down?” going back to the merlin spreadsheet (you don’t have to know anything about merlin to understand this), i realized partway through that side characters like uther, gwen, and morgana felt like they only existed when i needed them, like they just randomly appeared when the plot called for it and didn’t have any purpose otherwise. so i made columns for each one of them to remind me to have them or a mention of them in each scene so it reminded us that they were still out there doing their own shit. “talking heads” is a good example of something i will forget bc i am so bad about it. “background michael” was also something i was forgetting - he’d show up when convenient but it was easy to forget that he was there, listening, 24/7. of course, dean never forgets this even for a second, so i had to make sure that that came across in his pov. same issue with arthur’s out-of-control magic in the merlin fic. it’s an issue for them ALL the time, not just when i want to write about it. they quite literally cannot forget about it, so i can’t either, and neither should my audience!

second qualification is, “is this thing going to matter for the majority of the fic?” if yes, in it goes. so in broken road for example there was a mini-arc about jack realizing john is a bad person and part of the reason behind dean’s mistreatment of him in early s13. but since jack isn’t a major character in this fic, it only comes up twice, and i’d never be able to mention it in every scene. it doesn’t matter that much. same with john and mary’s relationship arc - it goes through a single turning point and then sort of stays stagnant in that no-man’s-land for the rest of the fic. their romantic relationship wasn’t the point, even though i enjoyed adding it in there, the point was their various failings and perhaps eventual successes at parenting and how that affected the family dynamic. on the other hand, john’s “case” matters very much - it’s something i needed to have him doing in each and every one of his scenes, because the guy is a bloodhound. the abuse arc, of course, is the entire point of the fic. and background michael wound up mattering here too - it increased with steady escalation until he was no longer in the background at all, because michael is sort of the living embodiment of stuff john was supposed to do and made dean carry for him instead, and also the entire reason john got brought back to life to begin with. essentially i only add it in if it’s FEASIBLE and/or REASONABLE to have it popping up in every scene/almost every scene/the majority of scenes, and if NOT, it doesn’t make the cut - otherwise you’d be left with a lot of empty checkboxes. very unsatisfying.

finally, how dedicated am i to having it in every scene? very very very VERY dedicated, but with a loophole: it counts as being in the scene even if there’s just the smallest, tiniest mention of it. going back to the merlin spreadsheet - there was no way i could include gwen, morgana, AND uther in every single scene. so it still counts if someone mentions them aloud, or thinks about them in the narrative. that still gives us the sense that they’re real people doing things even when our pov characters can’t see them, but without me feeling forced to shoehorn them in where they aren’t needed. similarly w/ “funny” for broken road - abuse, in general, isn’t funny at all. but i wanted there to be some relief from the heaviness of that subject in every scene, so even dark humor or slightly amusing wording or something might fulfill my obligations if the scene is otherwise too serious/important to ruin with a laugh. i find that varying the level of content devoted to whichever column in any given scene sort of helps keep the distribution of that content feel more organic. if you’re merlin and you’re obsessed with/in love with arthur, you’re not thinking about people like gwen and morgana and uther as often as you think about him. you’ll think about them more when they’re there and less when you’re busy or distracted. merlin was NOT thinking of uther as much during their very (b)romantic magic reveal moment as he was during the fight where uther tried to lop arthur’s head off. you know?

and finally, yes, sometimes i DO check them off when i’ve determined that there’s absolutely no way to work it in, but only as my very, very last resort. having good writing sense shouldn’t stop me from having a fully completed spreadsheet but it feels like cheating. so for example, in one of the chapters of the merlin fic there’s an onscreen suicide attempt - obviously there just weren’t going to be any jokes in that one, that’s very justified. and of course, john can’t work on his “case” in a scene he’s not included in - so for dean pov scenes without john, those got checked off by default. BUT even where he can’t be working on it when he’s not onscreen, i could still sometimes squeeze in another character mentioning his growing suspicion or voicing worry about him finding out, and that makes me feel better. but sometimes it just isn’t happening because it shouldn’t, so i try to accept that too 😞✊

ty very much for asking, i hope this response wasn’t TOO terribly longwinded. sorry you had to wait so long for a response too, december is kicking my ass like always 👎

[fic advice masterpost]

#liz answers asks #anonymous #liz loves writing #broken road #how arthur got his groove back #long post #sorry about that!!!!#writing spreadsheets #< i went ahead and made a tag for them lol #i'm sure i have lots of posts about them that are untagged but i backtagged as many as i could find #it's not a real liz fic until at least one spreadsheet gets made..........................

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

Note

I dare you to write an Ani5 fix-it fic. I will not be taking criticism and will die on the hill that this is the most powerful ship and could’ve saved the entire clone wars. Bonus points if it features the ship Mace Windu/headaches (bc anakin is a walking mess of shatterpoints and lives to annoy Mace). Codywan to help knock some sense into anakin would also be top tier. I LOVE YOU ZEPH’BUIR

(of course i can’t do a whole fix-it in a quick prompt answer, but i think i’ve set it up for a far happier ending than in canon! support communication and education in relationships (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) and also adhd clones.

fives might be the most i’ve ever struggled with a character (‘cept maybe ahsoka....) so it took a little while to figure out how to write this scene in a way i liked. also, had to go and watch fives clips to try and get my autism brain working, and BOY HOWDY do i actually hate dbb’s take on the clones, especially the accent but everything else too. their character designs make me want to cry. so i’m begging, for me, to imagine this fives like this especially because then we get Tol Anakin and a Smol Clone BF and i think that is a seriously underutilised dynamic.

thank you for the prompt, ad, and for cursing me with this ship in the first place. someday i’ll get around to actually writing them as the battle husbands they are 🧡)

Alt+R to quick reblog on desktop, Hold the reblog symbol to quick reblog on mobile

Echo's always been good with programming, but Fives is better with the actual building. He's not any good with inventing, maybe, but putting things together? Opening them up and knowing immediately what's wrong? Fives would even say he enjoys it — and being able to talk shop with Skywalker like they're nobody mechanics from the Outer Rim instead of General and Soldier makes the long hyperjumps between missions actually bearable.

How that led to him sitting in a rarely used hallway on the Resolute with Skywalker ("Anakin," he keeps insisting with a smile), both leant over a mouse droid in pieces on a drop cloth, Fives isn't really sure. It probably had something to do with Skywalker's excited bounce when he'd come to ask if Fives wanted to help him, the sparkle in his eye reminding Fives just how young the both of them are. How, technically, he's older than Anakin.

Because, yeah, he is Anakin, not Skywalker, when they're like this. With his growing knight cut a curly untamed cloud around his ears, grease smeared on the underside of his jaw, with Fives stripped down to his blacks from the waist up, with even his blasters set on the floor next to them.

With it quickly becoming clear that Anakin doesn't actually need help to rewire the mouse droid, but had asked for Fives to join him anyways.

They've been at it for a few hours now, their jokes winding down to companionable quiet as they both work on separate parts of the droid. It honestly might have been easier to start from a scrap droid than try to rewire this one correctly, but it's easy work Fives could do blindfolded, and sharing the mutually-focused silence is actually quite nice.

Anakin is elbow-deep in the outer casing when he finally asks, "Do the clones feel love?"

And Fives almost gets up and walks away. He knows not every battalion ended up with a good Jedi, that the 212th and the 501st had been so kriffing lucky to end up with "The Team", but sometimes he forgets. Maybe that's the worst part of it: slow, personal moments like this, Fives forgets he's not natborn and bearer of a face shared with millions. Being around his general makes him forget, and maybe he had taken that for granted until now.

Or maybe it's for that reason that he hesitates from storming off, because Anakin had been the one to name Alpha, to insist on giving them proper leave, to defend them from anyone who talks down at them even if they're a planetary leader. And Rex had said something, once, about Anakin’s brain working in either/ors, being hardwired in some way to only see in black and white and believing that if you're one thing, you can't be another. That what Anakin says isn't always what he means.

So instead, he asks, "What kind of love are we talkin'?"

Anakin refuses to raise his head, and Fives can almost see him stressing about how to phrase this. "Y'know, grand romance and stuff. One-and-onlys and holodrama romcom propaganda and imagining growing old together."

"'Not quite sure what you're asking, sir." He takes a deep breath. "The short answer is yes, we can and do feel that, but the long answer is I can't speak for every brother, and I would not want to. Some of us don't feel that." Shrugging, he passes Anakin a socket wrench before he can ask for it. "But it's not because we can't, not because of the longnecks. We're bred to be obedient, sir, not emotionless."

Quiet settles over them again while Anakin processes this, his mouth twisted rather horribly. Fives starts to think he would do a whole awful lot to turn that frown back into a haughty smile.

"What do you really want to ask, General?"

"I'm married to Senator Amidala."

Now, everyone with eyes knows that. Maybe Torrent knows even better, when they've been covering for their general for over a year now, and clearly the Jedi just aren't doing anything about it — but Fives also knows Anakin has never actually told anyone about this, not even General Kenobi. Rex says Anakin still thinks they've been discreet.

"If I may be blunt, sir, this is not news."

And Anakin actually laughs at that, shaking his head as he tosses down his tools to stare at the opposite wall instead. Fives watches his gaze go distant, somewhere far away from the Resolute lost in the middle of space. “I’ve loved her since I was nine years old, Fives. I loved her through not seeing her for a decade, through her assassination attempts and the First Battle of Geonosis and becoming a knight, and I...”

Fives sighs once. “No one said you had to stay in love, sir.”

“But that’s just it,” he groans. “I’ve never known how to do anything else, how to be anything else. I don’t... know who I am without it.”

He has to look away from Anakin, then, because he’s seen brothers go stupid for people they meet on campaigns, or for their Jedi, and Fives isn’t nearly as young as some of the shinies out there, but he knows what it looks like, when they leap in without thinking. He lets out a long, slow breath, his eyes falling on the ‘saber at Anakin’s hip. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Anakin blinks at him, and nods.

“That’s too young to decide what you want to do for the rest of your life.” Fives raises a brow at his general’s startled expression, which is maybe more amusing (endearing) than it has any business being. “General, you’re barely an adult, just the same as the vode. If my mental timeline is right, you weren’t even twenty standard when you married Amidala, which, frankly, was reckless and unfair on her part.”

“Padmé would never–”

“I don’t mean intentionally, sir. The fact of the matter is, no wonder you don’t know who you are without her, because you’ve always had her.” That decade of no contact notwithstanding, considering Anakin didn’t not have her, either. “Senator Amidala knew who and what she was before you, and she’ll know who and what she is without you.”

“That’s not quite fair,” Anakin grumbles, but his throat is flushed in what Fives hopes is entirely appropriate guilt, or at the very least embarrassment. “It was my idea to get married after Geonosis.”

Fives snorts. “The idea of a child thrown into war, afraid to lose anything.”

“You’re being uncharacteristically candid, Fives.”

“Respectfully, sir, the last thing you need is to be coddled.” His general laughs again, this time good and bright in a way he hasn’t heard before; and then Fives can’t help what he admits next. “We weren’t allowed toys, or anything.”

Laughter cutting off abruptly, Anakin’s eyes grow haunted instead. There might not be anyone else in the galaxy with quite the same experience as the clones, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t those that understand.

“Hevy made me and Echo– Well, he said they were mythosaurs like Kal taught us about, but they looked more like sad loth cats. He cut up his own bedsheet to make ‘em, and couldn’t tell the longnecks what he’d done with it, so he just slept on the bare mattress.”

“Fives...”

But it’s clear Anakin doesn’t actually know what to say, so Fives pushes on. “Some of Fett’s instructors tried to teach us Mando’a, you know? I think Spar is the only brother that ever got fluent, the rest of us have been making up words and combining them with Basic and Kaminoan and whatever else the Cuy’val Dar spoke that sometimes we don’t even remember what language they are anymore.”

“I didn’t learn Basic until I was five.” Anakin thunks his head onto the wall behind him with a sigh, the mouse droid forgotten at his feet. “Other padawans always told me I was lucky Master Obi-Wan knew Huttese.” Ahh, kark, his general had been a Hutt salve; at least the spice runners made sure their slaves could communicate with their customers. “I couldn’t read a word of Aurebesh when I first came to the Temple, though to be fair, I couldn’t read anything else, either.”

“You grow up around other kids?”

“Yeah, my mom and I lived in the biggest slave slum on Tatooine.”

Fives doesn’t need to tell him how lucky he was just to have had their own quarters. “I think, sir, that the vode know better than you think, what it’s like always standing on the edge of losing everything.”

Squeezing his eyes closed, Anakin inhales sharply and clenches his fists over his knees. “What happened? To your mythosaur toys?”

“One of the longnecks found them while we were in training, ‘threw them out before we got back. I think Hevy was even more upset than we were.”

The leather glove over his prosthesis creaks as he tightens his grip on his own palms. “Was it easy? To just... forget about them?”

“Of course not,” Fives snorts and crosses his arms, “we were the equivalent of eight standard at the time, but we honestly didn’t have a choice. As we got a little older, we stopped trying to put meaning in things, because we weren’t allowed things. Our names are our only real possession, even our armor can be taken from us, but we will not, cannot, let anyone take our names.”

Groaning, Anakin scrubs his hands over his face before pushing himself up to finally look at Fives properly. He still doesn’t speak for a moment, just watching him, then teases flatly, “You’ve been spending too much time with Cody and Obi-Wan, you’re starting to speak in riddles.”

“They are riddles only to you, sir.” He offers a small smile, and is only slightly disappointed when Anakin doesn’t return it.

Instead, he lets out a winded breath. “So. You’re saying that it’s not easy to let go of even small things, but we must. And then there are things that we shouldn’t let go of?”

“Some things aren’t ours to keep.”

Anakin swallows. “Like Padmé,”

“Like any person, no matter what sort of love we have for them.”

Groaning, Anakin pulls his knees back up close and drops his face into his arms. “But I still love her.”

Knowing that this is not a new problem, that General Kenobi has been trying to teach his general this for as long as they’ve known each other, Fives takes a moment to consider. “You don’t really have to stop loving her.”

“But you said–”

“You think I stop loving my brothers when they die?”

Whether or not it’s healthy to hold onto affections for someone after a romantic relationship is a conversation for another time, Fives decides, and leans over to pick up where Anakin had left off with the droid.

“General, it sounds to me like you already know all this,” he says, twisting a wire into the grip of his glove to yank it from the motor. “And that you’re digging your feet in — which is the crux of the problem, isn’t it?”

“You sound like Obi-Wan,” he groans, but doesn’t deny it.

“Hmm, well, at least we’re still just kids.”

Anakin very slowly looks up from his arms, just enough for Fives to see his wide eyes. “What do you...?”

“Well, we’ve still got time to learn, don’t we?” Fives raises his eyebrow as he fits the new wire into the motor and starts to close all the panels back up. “I still think about Hevy and Droidbait and Cutup, and honestly, I still think about Echo’s and my mythosaurs. That’s not a bad thing, I don’t think, not even the Jedi would think that’s bad. I’m still angry when my vode don’t get funerals and I honestly hold that against the Chancellor and the Jedi both. But I don’t get to go back to Kamino and take my anger out on the longneck that took our toys, and I’m... working on it, not being so angry with the generals. I’m still angry. But I know the Jedi have about as much say in all of this as we do, and I know burying my brothers won’t bring them back. So I’m working on it.”

“I... don’t have to be good at it all at once.”

“Great Maker, General, just because you’re the Chosen One doesn’t mean you have to actually be good at absolutely everything from the start. You just have to try, and you still have time to.”

He looks up and finds Anakin already smiling back. “Fives, I could kiss you.”

“Considering it sounds like Senator Amidala just divorced you, I think that’s a very bad idea, sir.”

“Bah, you’re no fun.”

Fives feigns offense, “This mouse droid we’ve rigged to follow Captain Rex around and scream says differently.”

The night the 501st returns to the Resolute after finally (kriffing finally) leaving Umbara, Fives finds a hand-sewn stuffed mythosaur on his bunk, with a string collar and a dogtag etched with CT-782.

Mando’a: Cuy’val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones vod/e — “brother/s, comrade/s, sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s” (*in this context, fives is using brothers as gender neutral as well, because you won’t take trans and nb clones even from my cold dead hands*)

#prompt fill #crispy writes #ani5 #anakin/fives #no really what's their ship name #prequel trilogy #clone wars #pre-relationship #but they're getting there lads #cw slavery #clone culture #domino squad #past anidala #very recently past lmao #anakin skywalker #trooper fives #mando'a #is it really childhood if you've never been allowed to be a child #but seriously dbb is sort of fucking awful as the clones #like i love the man he's been in almost every cartoon i've ever cared about #but good lord it's like he wasn't even trying to act #anyways #theclonewarsbrokeme #rare pair #like.... never seen anything for this kind of rare pair...#wanna write more about them adhd stimming together #and being worried babs on the battlefield #cause unlike ships like codywan or rexwalker or skysolo #ani5 would have NO problem being obvious as fuck about their worry and affection #they wouldn't even try to hide it

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kurinoot · 4 years

Text

[day 4] four priceless treasures | sawamura daichi

-> the pandemic sure has limited us from meeting our loved ones physically, but even the pandemic can’t stop you from showing your love to your boyfriend this valentines’ day.

pairing: daichi x reader

themes: fluff, post-timeskip, pandemic au, flashbacks and all that stuff

word count: 2268 words

note: struggled a bit on this one bc I had to change a bit on specific parts of this fic after proofreading :) + my proofreader friend by the name of @msmeowski (who is a HARD daichi stan) didn’t allow me to post this one until it’s p-e-r-f-e-c-t lol but anyways, tell me what you think about this! and lastly, don’t forget to stay at home and be safe! also, I included a spotify playlist as a hyperlink somewhere in the story to add to the experience while you’re reading :)

You stared at your phone, texting your dad about your quarantine situation about giving him an update on your status before he replies with a ‘take care, I’ll see you soon.’ as you toss your phone on the bed and strode to the hotel balcony, taking in the solace of the wind blowing through. Luckily, it was your last day in quarantine and no symptoms have been detected so far. All you were waiting for were the results of your lab testing, and if affirmed negative, then you’re free to go back home.

You were then disrupted when your phone rang an oh-so-familiar tune that was meant only for him. With haste, you lay on the bed as you answered the call.

“Da~i~chi~!”, you teased with a short giggle “Did you receive my gift?”

“About that...can we have a video call?” Daichi asks as he clutches the parcel closer to his body. You hum in response, signaling a yes to at least see his face and see him open your gift. Giddiness fills your inner being before switching to a video call.

A few seconds later, your boyfriend graced your screen, still wearing his police uniform. Noticing you appearing, he flashes you a warm smile, happy to at least see you again albeit virtually. You gave him a warm smile, grateful for this opportunity that you got to see him again, and oh how you want to see and feel him ripped in his police uniform in the flesh.

“It’s a box.” Daichi replies as he closely inspects your gift for him for the day. You gave off a laugh as you rolled on your belly, kicking your feet on the air by his response.

“You sound rather disappointed,” your lips smirked with a mischievous thought in mind for him, starting with the box. “Were you expecting something more?”

Daichi flushed red as he looked away from the screen. “Not that I’m selfish, but I was expecting you. I really miss you, you know?” You could not help but get flustered at his honest response, since you’ve been away from Japan for a couple of years now.

Daichi clears his throat. “Are you doing okay? I know it’s been stressful for the past months.” while he lethargically removes his police vest. You can tell by the way he removes the vest and his dark circles under his eyes.

“I'm fine where I am, Daichi. No need to worry.” You calmly reassure him as you walk to sit down on the balcony chaise, looking at the sky while listening to Daichi's sexy voice. He chuckles as he weakly throws his police vest somewhere in his room, feeling the exhaustion taking over.

You look at him with concern, “The pandemic’s definitely taking a toll on you. Are you even getting enough sleep?”

He slouched as he ran his hand over his face, fatigue from the workload and the strict measures from the pandemic, answering your question.

“Look, as much as I miss you and really want to talk with you today, I want you to sleep. My surprise, I would say, require some walking.”, You say as your boyfriend who now wears a mask of doubt in his face.

“Anyways,” you continue. “Don’t open the gift yet! At least for today. I have a surprise for you tomorrow, that’s why you better sleep well tonight!”

You can see the slight scrunch in Daichi’s face as he replies “Aren’t you still overseas? And considering the situation, you won’t be back home easily.”

‘Ah of course, he doesn’t know that I’m already here in Japan, yet.’ You smile internally, feeling the anticipation and the adrenaline more as you already lay out your Valentines’ surprise for him in mind.

“Well, I had some help actually!”, you bounced back in reply. Remembering that you had your sibling’s help while you were still in transit from overseas.

“Look”, you say with a stern tone. “As much as I really want to talk to you tonight, I also want you to get some quality sleep. I can tell from here how tired you are, my dear Daichi.” You can hear Daichi let out a deep sigh, stuck between wanting to continue talking to you and wanting to take a good night's sleep.

You continue further with concern and underlying excitement, “I don’t want you to be so tired by the time you get to see my surprise tomorrow. You deserve it so much.” Daichi could only feel giddy as he became flustered at your concerned gesture, before agreeing and deciding to sleep.

Daichi wakes up the next day, feeling rejuvenated from the short conversation you both had last night. He’s fortunate that he has the day off work, as being an officer in these trying times can be proven stressful, and the distance between the both of you is definitely not helping the mental strain. He stares at the ceiling for a moment before he feels the familiar buzz of his phone. He opens his phone to the view of your text message.

You can open the box now!

Without any second thoughts, Daichi picks up the unopened parcel beside his bed. He grabs a cutter from his table and immediately cuts the package open. He slowly unfolds the flaps of the box to find a piece of paper and a used red radio he knows too well.

It’s my old radio... Daichi thought as he pressed the switch, and to his joy, it played a familiar song, albeit slightly static. The music then conjures a special memory of him riding his bicycle as you perched on his back when you were both still in high school. Furthermore, he could see the all-too familiar red radio dangling on his bicycle, playing the songs you both like.

You watch as the view of the Miyagi prefecture passes by, watching the sun set in the distance as Daichi pedals the bicycle on the way home with his old radio dangling on the right handle, playing Bread and Butter’s Summer Blue. Your arms tightened around his waist as your eyes closed, relishing the warmth of his broad back as your head lay on him, inhaling his mixed scent of salonpas and sweat after volleyball practice with hints of cologne. A smile plays on Daichi’s lips as he feels your warmth surging through him.

‘Summer blue, summer blue…

Sora dake ga aoi...’

The music started to fade in the background as it continued on to the next song.

He can’t help but clutch his chest in happiness and love, as he feels a surge of contentment in his veins. He closes and smiles as he immediately thinks of the precious memory. A tear then slips through his eye, missing your physical presence. He then wipes the tear that has threatened to pour more before starting to prepare for the day ahead. Relieved from the catharsis, he pulls out the piece of paper from the box earlier and reads a “Here’s your clue for the next surprise!” along with a haiku:

‘The smell of warm broth

Shared by the ramen couple

In the cold autumn’

If his memories were correct, he knew exactly where it was. You were regular customers ever since high school, there’s no doubt that it was the ramen shop that you and he used to go to almost every week, and your shared love for shoyu ramen somehow gave you both the reputation of the ‘shoyu ramen couple’ by the owner, as he calls it.

He saw the same shop from years ago as it exactly was as the smell of the broth enticing him to enter the old place.

The old man who owned the shop recognizes Daichi as he enters before greeting him behind the clear protective cover of the counter, as per safety measures as he went to the kitchen to prepare a special meal, ushering Daichi to an empty seat where they usually sit.

His eyes wandered around the empty place, looking for the possible next clue of the next gift. The owner then comes out with a bowl that has a recognizable smell and serves it to Daichi.

“Here’s your shoyu ramen,” The owner winked at Daichi, hinting at something before continuing, “Specially made, requested by your girlfriend.” Daichi, albeit somehow surprised, folded his hands together with an “Itadakimasu!” before quickly slurping the ramen he loved so much in contentment.

“That girl...her sibling came by saying that your girlfriend has a ramen request.” He chuckled before Daichi stopped to listen to his story. “She thought that you might be too busy to come by so she went ahead and paid for it as your gift.” The owner laughs as he resumes cooking, leaving Daichi in disbelief at the owner before looking at his bowl of shoyu ramen, reminiscing a memory.

As the leaves fall while you are walking down the street in a cold autumn afternoon, you pull Daichi’s hand, leading him to the familiar street right after he had volleyball practice.

“Let’s go to the usual!”, You smiled at him as he followed suit.

The place has seen its years with a smoke coming out from the ventilation shaft with a thick warm smell that led you and Daichi come in further, the owner greeting the both of you as usual with a smile before you two sit at your usual spot near the window of the shop. The owner was familiar with the both of you, eating at his place almost every week, and knows what both of you would order.

“Two bowls of shoyu ramen for the couple!” He teases that left you and Daichi flustered at his statement.

“A-anyways, the ramen w-will get cold if we don’t start eating now.” Daichi says, seeing his cheeks redden as he looks away before he digs in to avoid the awkwardness. You gave off a laugh, making his eyes gaze to you that somehow made him flushed even redder as you perched your chin on your hand, looking at him tenderly.

“Somehow...it makes me happy that we’re a couple.”

The owner tells him as he wipes the counter clean, “Keep her. You don’t find women like her nowadays.” He chuckles as he slips a piece of paper in front of the eating policeman, “She also requested to give you this.”

After a few minutes, Daichi had already finished the bowl cleanly with no traces, quickly grabbing a handkerchief to wipe his mouth afterwards.

“Thank you so much for the food!”, he thanks and waves at the owner before he leaves the establishment to go to his next destination.

‘New Year approaches

As the bell tolls from afar

We pray for good luck’

He chuckles as he reads the paper. “She never fails to impress me with her surprises...”, he breathes optimistically as he wears his mask and wraps a scarf around his neck before going outside.

As he arrived, he noticed the familiar shrine wearing down from the years, but was still being taken care of. A few women, mostly high school girls, prayed for the special day while holding each of their own stashes of chocolates. Daichi went up to the shrine, paying his respects before wandering around, looking for the next clue.

“It really brings back memories.” He whispers to himself as he looks around the place, a smile forming on his lips.

You both stepped in front of the shrine after you both celebrated and lent your wishes for the New Year, with hands and eyes closed in prayer. He could only look and stare at you still, hands and eyes closed in prayer. He smiles at the sight of you earnestly praying.

‘I pray that we would always be together.’

Daichi saw a paper dangling on the tree along with the other wishes, taking what seemed to be your final clue.

‘As the storm passes

Spring has finally come home

Awaiting blossom’

His eyes widen in realization as he rushes back to his house, only to find it unlocked. He catches his breath as he opens the door, without any second thoughts, he removes his mask as he enters to look for the final gift. He finds a couple of luggages sitting in the middle as well as a paper he knows too well. He inspects it further, shocked to see your name along with the words negative written in the results.

Daichi then scrambles as he hears the sound of the nearby bathroom door open, only to see you wet in your towel. You immediately went red in embarrassment before Daichi, overfilled with longing and excitement, rushed to ensnare you into a tight embrace despite your towel-clad body. You hold your breath further as he places a deep kiss on your lips, immediately tasting the shoyu ramen you know too well. You could only drown yourself in his kiss as you slowly close your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You both break the kiss afterwards, panting as Daichi pulls your head over his chest, longingly hugging you.

“I was expecting that you would be home a little bit later. I even haven’t dressed for you yet!”, you pouted as you rested in the comfort of Daichi’s arms.

Your boyfriend could laugh, flustered with the state of your undressed state, “I missed you, Y/N. I missed you very much.” You could only hug him tighter as you both smiled.

“I’m home.”

He smiled before kissing you again, but this time passionately as he embraced you once more.

“Welcome home.”

back to valentines masterlist

#tina.writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #valentines #haikyuu valentines #haikyuu fics #haikyuu imagines #14 days of valentine

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merakiui · 4 years

Note

i don’t remember actually sending a request, sorry about that- anyway, how about the noctu team realizing they’re crushing on the manager? make it like a puppy crush for aiyachi bc the baby is only 14

(Here are the hcs! Please forgive me. I don’t know why they took so long to post. :< But I’m happy with the result! I hope you’ll like it too. Thank you for requesting! These are really cute to think about.)

Noctu Team With a Crush HCs (Aitachi, Kirr, Nine, and Day)

🎯 Aitachi 🎯

Aitachi looks up to a lot of people. He’s not bothered by the fact that most of them might be older and taller. That just means they’ve got more years under their belt and plenty of wisdom to share with him.

He’s so used to being around adults that your presence doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

Intimidation? He knows no such thing! Aitaichi hardly considers fear when you treat him with the same respect as everyone else.

Just don’t baby him. Aitachi may be the smallest and youngest out of the group, but that doesn’t mean he’s a child. He’s a mature Reaper with the courage and strength of a true, pure-hearted warrior!

That’s why he’s always willing to put his life on the line if you’re ever in danger, which is extreme and illogical considering he’s already died once and is now immortal.

He means well, but you’ll still clarify that he doesn’t need to go to such lengths to ensure your safety.

“I’ll be fine,” you told him after a vengeful spirit tried to attack you. “You don’t have to worry so much. As long as no one’s hurt, we can continue with our work, right?”

The very next morning you find a talisman on your desk, along with a small note telling you to keep it close whenever you’re in danger.

Since then, you’ve kept it as a good luck charm, knowing that as long as you’re careful you won’t fall prey to any wandering spirits.

Aitachi takes up the role as your unofficial errand boy ever since he discovered the special spot on your desk for the doll he made. He insists on bringing you every important document because it’s a warrior’s duty to provide for those in need.

His fellow Noctu Reapers think it’s quite charming that he does this, especially Day, who makes all sorts of comments doting on how his “little brother” is so helpful and sweet.

You’re grateful that Aitachi’s so willing to lend a hand without a single complaint, and you make sure he knows just how thankful you are.

Even if the gesture is reserved for that of a child, you still pat him on the head. Aitachi pouted about it at first, saying that head pats aren’t suited for warriors.

Now he just blushes at the contact, proud to have gotten your recognition.

He’s almost like Day in a sense, unintentionally following you around like a lost hound.

It’s quite obvious that he’s got a case of young puppy love.

He’s making another talisman doll for you when he comes to the realization of his wholesome feelings.

Are warriors even supposed to feel this way?

He’s stuck thinking about it the whole day, and he’ll probably be less confident to admit to it.

In the meantime, though, he’ll continue helping you to the best of his ability, secretly doing everything he can to be considered your number one. Almost like a teacher’s pet, but in this case it’s manager’s pet.

All of those talisman dolls are starting to pile up on your desk, as well as his innocent adoration for his hard-working manager.

🏹 Kirr 🏹

Having a crush is such a foreign concept to Kirr.

When he first heard the word, he took it quite literally, wondering why anyone would want to crush another person. That should only happen in a survival scenario where life and death is at stake and you’re facing an enemy with negative intentions.

Yet as he learns more about what it means in a romantic sense, it gives him more confusion. So a crush is a strong sense of admiration for another person?

In that case, wouldn’t it be his manager who he holds in high esteem?

He doesn’t really know how to bring this topic up with the others, so he’s debating it internally. It’s definitely a struggle for poor Kirr, who can’t seem to figure out whether or not what he’s feeling is a crush or just simple respect for his colleague.

So he ends up watching how the Reapers act around you. They’re so kind and sociable. And he acts the same, albeit at a serious level where most jokes go over his head.

Kirr is so busy troubling himself with these inner debates that he doesn’t even register when someone’s trying to talk to him, and it’s a bit concerning.

One afternoon he’s sharpening the arrowheads on the ends of his arrows when he sees you crossing the field. And you look serene as you walk, not paying any mind to the wind that rustles your clothes.

He’s shared plenty of conversations with you before, but during those times he never had a chance to appreciate you in all your astounding form.

It’s almost too much for him, and a slew of feelings catch his heart in a vice.

Maybe he does have a crush after all.

But where are all these emotions coming from? Based off of what he’s heard from the Department, Kirr knows that a crush is normal for everyone of all ages. It’s a sign that you’ve taken romantic interest in someone.

He wonders what one does with feelings like these. Obviously he could confess or get to know you more, but something’s holding him back. Suddenly, he’s become indecisive.

Normally, when he’s hunting, it’s easy to rely on logic and instincts. Now he’s not so sure which will help him out in this situation.

When you catch his staring and wave, a smile on your face, Kirr holds up his arm, returning the gesture. You really are a great person; your personality glimmers underneath the glare of the sun, and he’s glad that someone so amazing is his manager.

Logic might fail in this case, and instincts won’t get him anywhere as he has no idea where to begin. So maybe he’ll settle on his heart, following it like it’s a searchlight in the blurry haze of confusion that’s overtaken his reasoning.

Kirr’s definitely going to gravitate towards you more as he tries to navigate his newfound feelings. He’s doing his best, so please encourage him.

🎼 Nine 🎼

He catches you slacking off one day, absorbed in the videos on your mobile device.

Nine isn’t one to snoop, but he does happen to catch the swish of a colorful pen against a sheet of unwrinkled paper. He knows what it is at once.

You’re watching calligraphy videos.

“Do you enjoy that, Manager?” he’ll ask, awaiting your answer.

Once you confirm that you do like it, Nine’ll be happy to know that his manager shares similar interests with him.

Since then, the two of you have bonded over calligraphy, and Nine’s even showed you what his skillful hands can do. Just give him a pretty pen and some paper and he’ll be scribbling all sorts of gorgeous words.

He finds that the best word to write is your name, which is a tad confusing, but you seem honored.

Before he can even register the extent of your relationship, you’re already inviting him to places. Whether it’s in your office talking over paperwork or rendezvousing in the human world during a successful mission, Nine enjoys your presence.

Nine realizes that every day spent in your company is fun, albeit a dangerous erosion to his heart, which is beginning to wear at its foundation.

He manages to stay composed, but there’s something strange in how he hopes of eventually surpassing the border known as friendship.

He’s not used to getting so close to others; usually he keeps his distance, only upholding a conversation when needed. But now he feels as though he’ll lose you if he doesn’t stick around, and the idea of that is crushing.

You’re already such a ray of sunshine, a soothing force against the hectic work days, so he wants to ensure that you’re also content.

He’s writing down the remnants of a composition he recalls, testing his memory of his distant past life, when everything starts to click into place. The stars align as he writes in the final notes, reviewing the completed composition with tranquil eyes.

If he’s right, it should be played slow and steady, transitioning between notes of melancholic hope and satisfied bitterness. Quite a tragic piece, if he’s being honest, but maybe that was his intention. Or his memory might be faulty. Either way, he’s certain that this composition describes his inner turmoil perfectly. Bittersweet like chocolate and uncertain like his intuition.

Nine can’t remember the name to this particular composition, so he writes the first thing that comes to his mind.

The moment he finishes writing your name is definitive proof of what he’s feeling.

Some would say it’s a crush, and others would say it’s unfiltered endearment. Regardless of what it is, it holds the same implications.

Nine’s in love.

Though his previous life was cut short and he refuses to sort through his cracked past, he has all the time in the world to start anew. And that’s all he needs to act upon these feelings that have blossomed.

It’ll take time, but he knows that he’ll be able to confess when he’s certain that his love isn’t completely one-sided.

In the 14th Department, Nine seems to wear his smile purposefully, and there’s a bright shine in his gaze.

🍦 Day 🍦

He’s with you 24/7. At least, that’s what it feels like to you.

Realistically, it’s because of your role as manager. But at some point he just starts to forget that that’s your job and he begins to consider you a friend.

He’s in your office all the time, sitting on a swivel chair or trying to lounge on your desk while you’re writing up reports.

In the beginning, you would always kick him out, lightly advising him that work hours are not play hours—even if there aren’t any ongoing missions.

But Day is so loyal, constantly flitting around you like a butterfly. He seems to smile even brighter when you address him, and despite his carefree demeanor he wants to provide as much help as he can.

“Let me carry that, Manager!” or “Hey, hey! We should get ice cream to celebrate your hard work. I want to take you to the best place. You have to try the new flavors with me!”

You give up pushing him away and start to welcome him into your office.

The other Reapers begin to suspect something’s up, especially those who are more perceptive than the others. Day’s own team members can’t help but wonder what’s got him so fascinated with you.

He claims he can never be bored when he’s around you, which proves to be true because this man can talk about anything and everything.

All it takes is for you to mention that you’re in the mood for something sweet, and he’ll be on that topic faster than a moth to a light.

Without meaning to, he memorizes all of the information he learns about you, accidentally mentioning some facts during a conversation.

It makes you realize just how close he pays attention to you.

Even Nyang Lead Manager has noticed his attachment, but he’s uninterested for the most part. As long as Day doesn’t let himself get distracted from work, he’s not bothered.

But it makes things harder for you. Your focus diminishes whenever he’s near, so much so that you begin to take in different aspects of his actions.

He rarely blushes, but when he does it’s usually whenever you do something that warrants bashfulness. And he’s started to compliment you a lot now, always recognizing changes to your fashion.

Day happens to be relaxing in his dorm, reading an ancient tome about magic and its connection to the heart, when it finally makes sense.

Wait. Hold on.

He peers at the symbols with undeterred intensity, recalling memories of you and him. Eerily, his feelings fit the exact description in the book.

He really does spend a lot of time with you, and you’ve been occupying his thoughts day and night since he first got to know you. Some would say it’s too much, but you can never have enough of something you love.

Love. That’s the word he was looking for.

He’s in love. True, real, authentic love.

Day pops up from his sitting position so fast it almost throws him off balance. The other Noctu members look at him in confusion, but he’s too busy to even give them an explanation.

Now wired with too much excitement to feel worried, he rushes through the 14th Department, completely shirtless and in a hurry to get to your office so he can give you a rambling soapbox speech about his inner thoughts and feelings.

Someone give him a shirt before he gets himself in trouble with Nyang.

#afterl!fe #after l!fe #afterl!fe aitachi #afterl!fe kirr #afterl!fe nine #afterl!fe day #noctu team #night team #crush headcanons #afterl!fe x reader #afterl!fe headcanons #afterl!fe hcs #afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope #aitachi #kirr #nine #day

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yeochikin · 4 years

Text

of coffees and spells. | j. wooyoung

a/n: thank you so much @fvrcore for requesting a wooyoung fluff! i tried something new but still held onto the fluff concept bcs haha i suck at angst pls jfhdj this is a long read with maybe a few inaccuracies as well. so please do forgive me! i enjoyed writing this though so i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this! ✨💖

word count: 11k+ (idk man i lost count djfhh)

warnings: uhh inaccuracies with spells and the likes maybe, a few swears too. other than that, there isn’t anything else!

a soft sigh was slowly emitted from slightly chappy yet moist lips, courtesy of the warm tea swirling ever so gently in your favourite mug you are holding in your cold hands. your favourite blanket was draped over your shoulders while you admired how the stars and moon were hanging on the night sky above your head, shining ever so brightly. this certain time of day has always been your favourite, or should you call it time of night? ah, whatever. what matters is that you find comfort during the night.

speaking of the night, it was rather quiet, save for the sounds of the night’s wind breezing through that would make the leaves of the trees surrounding your cottage rustle every now and then, the wind chime hanging idly on the arch of your porch gently chiming by the wind as well, and of course, let’s not forget the crickets playing their songs into the night.

of course, you are not completely away from civilisation, where else could you get your basic needs if not from the town’s market? if you had a dollar every time someone asked if you lived deep within the wilderness, surely you could at least be a millionaire by now. truly, you feel amused with such assumptions being thrown in your direction. and as for money? why, you used to work in a little coffee house just a little over a month ago. from there, you worked on a lot of different pastries that ranged from sponge cakes to muffins to breads! and also from there, you had the determination to open up your own place when you have the sufficient funds.

and before you know it, tomorrow’s finally the day to open up your own little bakery in town, aurora bakery was the name you had decided. coincidentally, right in front of the coffee house you used to work in. despite being another place where one could hang out, the pressure of being possible rivals with the coffee house was not present. if it wasn’t for the coffee place, you wouldn’t have found out the love for baking. the thought of opening said shop up is already enough to make your chest bubble with excitement as the corners of your lips twitched up. that was, until..

CRASH!

‘oops!’

with furrowed brows at the sudden noise (and the voice that invaded your mind) from the inside, you looked over your shoulder to gaze through the window to see whatever the hell was making the noise. to your surprise, your little.. feline friend standing on one of the several shelves that were hung on the walls of your cottage’s living room. the contents of the shelves varied from glass bottles, to dried herbs, to jars of objects filled in them, some recognisable while some of the contents were just unknown.

following their gaze on the floor, a previously glass bottle with some type of red liquid had covered your floor. sighing, you got up from your seat and immediately went inside to clean up the mess.

there goes your peaceful night.

“leo, this is the fourth time you broke one of my potion bottles!” you hissed, immediately looking for your broom and dustpan right next to the door.

said cat merely had his tail swishing from back and forth as he blinked boredly at you, curling up into a little ball afterwards.

‘sorry, a cat’s instincts.’ the voice appeared in your mind yet again, undoubtedly from the cat friend in front of you.

“more like an asshole’s instincts.” you grumbled underneath your breath, and with a wave of your hands, the broom started sweeping the broken glass pieces into the dustpan, promptly throwing them into the almost full trash bin as you made a mental note to empty it out later during the morning.

ah, yes. potion bottles, jars of unknown objects, things in your house moving in the air by itself with a simple wave of your hands, a talking feline friend, living in a cottage just outside of town alone? there was no doubt the same answer would pop up into a stranger’s mind.

a witch.

sure, you don’t always wear black like it would be someone’s funeral every day of the year, nor do you have a long and pointy nose along with a high pitched laugh that could easily split someone’s ears. but is it really necessary to pinpoint someone as such just by those three points? oh how the stories you heard from the townsfolk with their assumptions were an eye roll or managed to make you feel amused.

times have changed, yet you still wonder as to why people seemed to still have such a mindset on witches.

so far, you are the only witch in town. surprisingly, no one has caught onto the fact that a little witch has been living near them for a few years now. you didn’t really care if someone had caught on though, there’s always a special drink you could come up with to erase that certain fact away from their minds or with a discreet snap of your fingers along with an incantation, it would be washed away.

it was understandable as to why your parents were against letting you move away from the safe haven they had created in another town you used to live in, afraid that someone would have found out about your true identity. but of course, as mentioned before, a simple spell or potion could do the trick. besides, you were sure you could handle it yourself. with enough convincing and reassurance, your parents finally let you go. and as some type of companion, your parents insisted on bringing one of your many pets from home to go with you. thus, having leo by your side.

true, you felt homesick at times, but the feeling was always washed away whenever leo would come up to your side and snuggle to you in bed, silently knowing how you felt deep within. if a huge chance was on your side, you could even go back to your old place for a little while to catch up on your parents, telling all of the interesting events during your endeavours.

speaking of visiting, you had made a mental note to visit them as soon as possible, wanting to tell them about the little bakery you are about to open.

‘it’s late, young lady. stop thinking too much, you’re being too loud.’ a grouchy voice interfered with your thoughts, knowing full well who it belonged to.

with a roll of your eyes, you made your way to the bathroom to do your nightly routine of washing your face, brushing your teeth, and burning the incense you had made earlier in the afternoon, sighing in content once the sweet smell of roses had wafted into your nose as soon as you got comfortable in bed.

slowly, you let the soft sound of the rustling leaves, the soft chiming from the wind chime, and the crickets of the night lull you to sleep, getting enough rest before the big day tomorrow.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

“one, two!” you heaved pulling out the last tray filled with chocolate filled croissants out of the huge oven, walking out of the kitchen to the front of the bakery with leo balancing himself on your shoulders.

‘you’re a witch, why are you going through this?’ grumbled leo.

“you seem to think that it would be easy for me to use my powers in broad daylight where half of the town could see.” you retorted, walking over to the glass display so you could place the freshly baked pastries next to the other ones.

“plus, i don't see why you are complaining considering you're just watching me.” you added.

you didn’t bother to answer the cat’s next complaint, merely pulling him off of your shoulders to let him rest on top of the counter. a satisfied purr resonated against the feline’s neck as your fingers scratched behind his ears. smiling proudly to yourself and placed both hands on your hips to marvel your hard work of the day. you had spent most of the morning just decorating the empty spots of the bakery, baking the treats, and wiped the tables clean. nodding faintly, you decided that it was time.

it was time to flip the sign to ‘open’. with that, aurora bakery is officially open for business!

while expecting for customers to hopefully smell the scent of freshly baked goods attracted them to your little bakery, you grabbed your broom and started sweeping away the dried leaves just outside of your bakery as if to busy yourself a little more without having to bore yourself waiting (another part not wanting to bicker with the annoying feline in your bakery), and occasionally greeted the few townspeople that recognised you. pausing slightly in your sweeping to wipe away the thin sheet of sweat that had formed on your forehead with the back of your hand, it was only then you noticed that another pair of eyes was watching you.

there, in the coffee house in front of your bakery, you noticed a raven haired boy leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. an unfamiliar face to you, could he be a new resident of this small town you lived in?

with the short sleeved collared shirt he wore, you could faintly make out what seems to be a tattoo on his arm but with the distance, it was difficult to make out what it was. his wavy hair was parted right in the center with a dark ebony colour that reminded you of the sky just last night. his eyes, though half-lidded, held some type of cheekiness in them. however, his appearance wasn't the one that caught your attention. the male’s aura for some reason was rather… different yet familiar? if that could even make sense. true, he had a mysterious air around him though he radiated another energy that you can't quite put your finger on.

'it's rude to stare, young lady.’

blinking a few times, you glared down at the furball sitting next to your legs, partly embarrassed that you were caught staring and partly wanting to turn the cat into one of those fortune cat dolls you see every time you were in a family restaurant around town. leo only stared up at you with an unamused expression then to the male just in front of you. following his gaze yet again, you turned to look at the boy but instead, he already turned on his heels and walked further into the coffee house with both hands tightening the strings of his apron around his waist.

“i wonder if he just moved in, haven't really seen him before.” you mumbled before feeling a slight tug on your dress shirt, immediately catching your attention to look down.

a little girl with two high pigtails stared up at you with her huge eyes, one hand on the fabric of your shirt while the other tightly held a stuffed bunny close to her side. she looked to be about six years old. you smiled gently and kneeled down to match your height with hers, tilting your head to the side in question.

“hey, cutie. what can i do to help you?” you spoke, tone all soft as if you were afraid to scare her away.

with sheepish eyes shifting over at your face then to her shoes, then back to you, she held out a ten dollar bill, causing you to confusedly blink at her actions. it took the girl a few more seconds before parting her lips to speak.

“i smelled something really nice from your… bread house and, and i have money that mommy gave me earlier, and can i buy something with this?” she asked.

internally, you were about to combust at how adorable with the way she was talking along with the fact that she had called your bakery ‘bread house’. you were happy to say that having a cute girl as your first customer managed to be the highlight of your day so far. nodding your head, you stood back up on your feet and held out your hand for her to take.

“of course! why don't you come inside and see what interests you, little one.” you cooed, melting on the inside at how she carefully took your hand in her own smaller one as her features brightened up out of happiness before the both of you walked back inside, leo trudging shortly from behind.

you watched as the little girl looked around the bakery in awe, no doubt amazed at the various treats on display, before running towards the ones that were in the large glass case. kneeling down once again next to her, you couldn't help but to release a chortle that bubbled in your chest.

before you know it, a couple more townspeople had visited your little bakery. hopefully, things are looking up. with a huge grin on your face, you stood up on your feet, getting ready to assist the customers.

“welcome to aurora bakery!”

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

you hummed to a soft tune as you kneaded the dough, leo napping on top of the shelves in your bakery’s kitchen. thankfully, his so-called cat instincts didn’t push the jars of flour and spices that adorned the many shelves. had he did so, you swear you would make him take your place instead of you. you didn’t realise how much time has passed as you were too focused on assisting the customers that walked into your bakery, along with cleaning the tables, and of course, continuing to refill the trays with your treats. though, judging by the rays of crimson slipping through the thin curtains hanging above your windows, you made a random guess that it was near late afternoon.

as soon as you placed the dough into the oven to let it bake and went to wash your hands from the excess dough sticking on your skin, a quiet ‘ding’ from the bells hanging on your door signified a customer had walked into your cafe. wiping your hands on your apron with a quick fix of the crescent shaped clip that threatened to fall off of your hair, you made your way out to the front to greet the said customer.

“welcome to- oh.” you accidentally let the words die off in our throat. really, you didn’t mean to.

standing in front of the cashier, you were met with the same cheeky eyes from before staring into your own. it was the boy from the coffee house! with his elbows resting on top of the counter, you could finally see that the tattoo on his arm was in the shape of, what looks like, a fox, a snow fox to be specific. you also noticed the little mole just underneath his eye. like before, you once again felt the familiar yet still unfamiliar energy surrounding the male. odd.

“well, hello, miss baker.” he greeted, simpering at the way you had paused in your steps.

his voice was soft, catching you off guard yet you remained a calm demeanour. it wasn’t bad at all. the tone reminded you of… of milk coffee warming you up during a rainy evening. you didn’t know if it made sense but if you had to mean it in another way, it was just… soft. shaking your head to finally get it together, you sent him a polite smile as you walked closer to the counter.

“ah, you are the boy from the coffee house. how can i help you?” you asked.

leo as if he could hear you, suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision as he jumped onto the counter next to you and gave out a soft purr as you scratched behind his ears. his eyes stared at the tattoo that was inked on the boy’s skin with intrigue. the boy smiled down at your feline friend and switched his gaze to yours.

“well, i thought i would stop by and say ‘hi’. i haven’t really seen you around before, the town’s baker at that.” he replied, quirking a brow up.

“now that you mentioned it, i’ve never seen you before. are you perhaps new around here?” you asked, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly.

the question made the corner of his lips stretch further into a grin, you could faintly make out how the apples of his cheeks looked fuller once he did so. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that deep down he looks rather cute.

“i guess grandpa didn’t tell you his grandson finally took over his coffee house once he retired, huh?” he chuckled, straightening up to shove his hands into his denims.

the look of realisation already says it all, much expected from the male with how he let out another chortle. sure, you had heard from the old man in the coffee house telling you stories about his grandson during the time you were still working there. though, the said boy never once visited. it ranged from whatever he did as a child to him during the years of growing up. however, you failed to learn the fact that his grandson would be the one taking over the coffee house. or the fact he finally retired. much less, so soon. what you clearly remember, was the name the old man had mentioned a few times.

“you must be.. jung wooyoung?” you said, though the way you had worded it coming out as more of a question.

a look of surprise was etched onto the male’s face before it softened, holding one hand out to point at himself.

“the one and only. and you are..?” he trailed off, you catching up immediately.

“i’m y/n, y/n l/n.” you introduced, a huge grin plastered over your lips.

“it’s nice to meet the baker. i guess we will run into each other more often than not, eh?” he grinned.

“you say that as if i even have a choice to open up a bakery someplace else.” you mused, causing the male in front of you to release a hearty laugh.

you noted at the high pitched laugh he had, finding it contagious as you can’t help but to find yourself chortling along. despite the aura around him, you would have to say that his presence was rather warm.

“so, how can i help the town's, um, new coffee maker for today?” you asked.

‘i don’t know, his taxes maybe?’ leo’s voice interrupted, making you discreetly pull at his tail, just enough for him grumble, ears twitching as he looked up at you. honestly, someone is in need of a cat nap rather than the one working back and forth in the bakery all day.

“ah, it would be rude to stay and not have anything, no?” wooyoung replied before his irises looked around the bakery, only stopping at a certain treat as he pointed towards the cinnamon rolls.

“i’ll have two of those, miss baker.”

“coming right up!”

and with that, your nimble fingers made a quick work of placing the treats into a little box before placing a little cat sticker as a seal so that the treats wouldn’t fall out of the box. satisfied, you gave the said male his treats, promptly thanking him once he paid. it was when your fingertips brushed against one another that you felt a sudden chill down your spine.

could he… no, he can’t be.

“thank you for this, y/n. in return, why don’t you come to the coffee house once you’re free?” wooyoung winked, a certain glint shining in his irises as he spoke.

“h-huh? oh yeah, sure, definitely!” you said, still recovering from the chilling sensation down your spine.

and with that, the boy turned on his heel to walk out of the bakery. though it seems normal, something had caught your eye.

the exact fox tattoo had moved from its place on his arm to the back of his neck, its eyes blinking over at you.

quickly rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands, the fox on his nape was gone. were you dreaming?

‘young lady, your bread’s gonna burn in the oven!’ leo called out, making you quickly turn to rush back into the kitchen to take the bread out of the oven.

you are the only witch in town. you were certain of that.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

that night in the grassy field right in front of your little cottage, you were hunched over in front of your cauldron, hands idly stirring the ladle into the concoction while your eyes had read over the instructions of your spellbook. as usual, leo was balancing himself on your shoulder blades. despite him being an annoying (and grumpy) ball of fur, he surely knows what or what not to add to whatever you are currently doing.

with a few trials and errors, along with you and leo bickering, and some ingredients being tossed in, the dark navy mixture swirling in your cauldron lit up. at first it was rather dim but after a few more stirs in the mixture, the light grew brighter and brighter while the concoction started to bubble up. you had to shield your eyes once leo told you to back away from the cauldron, a ringing sound resonating throughout the area. you could hear liquid gurgling and some type of low thrum filling the silent night. once you were sure it was safe to open your eyes, you carefully moved your palm away from your face to look at your result. upon doing so, your eyes widened.

in front of you, stood a large mirror-like object just on top of the cauldron. the huge smile on your lips along with your tense shoulders relaxing, it was safe to say that the little experiment you tried out worked. there, you could see your parents standing with your reflection. your mother had an excited grin on her brims while your father, though with an emotionless expression, the twinkle in his eyes gave it away.

“y/n! you have finally gotten the hang of conjuring up the spell your father taught you.” came your mother’s cheerful tone.

‘yes, without my help little witch right here would’ve summoned up a flame thrall by accident.’ leo responded, his own reflection had him curling his tail around your mother’s leg.

“not impossible. let’s not forget the time where y/n had forgotten to add a heart stone before spawning up a wolf familiar. the whole house was a huge mess trying to make the wolf go back to its realm.” your father mused, much to your embarrassment.

see, you didn’t have any problems with casting illusion spells, nor did you have any trouble in the restoration spells as well. but for some reason, conjuration spells were a bit of a difficult task for you. you remembered the time where you accidentally conjured up a one eyed troll instead of a pixie at the age of ten. it was a good thing your father was around to immediately petrify the troll before it could squash you with its giant club, and dismiss it back into another realm. let’s just say that you were grounded with a month’s worth of studying ingredients for potions after that incident.

“i thought we didn’t need a heart stone.” you grumbled.

“you don’t need it if you want to make your wolf guardian a worthy opponent.” your father deadpanned, causing you to pout over at him, leo snickering at you.

“all jokes aside, how are you, my dear?” your mother’s soothing voice came through, immediately reminding you of the main reason why you had decided to call them in the first place.

“i’ve been alright, mother. i’ve even opened up my own bakery in town right in front of the old coffee house i used to work in!” you said, thumbs twiddling with each other.

while your mother was delighted that you’re doing well, your father was rather quiet. eyes as sharp as a hawk, your father noticed your movements. from the years of watching you grow up and having to deal with you trying to hide away the little mischief you had caused since you were a mere toddler, he couldn’t help but to release a low chuckle.

“is there something else we don’t know?” your father suddenly asked, causing you to flinch slightly in place.

“n-no!”

“y/n..” he said sternly, causing you to sigh out of defeat, shoulders deflating.

“father.. how do you know if another witch is around you?”

the pair in the mirror-like portal looked at one another upon hearing your question then back at you, your mother moving to place her hands on your shoulders.

“are you safe, my child?” your mother asked, though she was a mere… ‘illusion’ through the mirror, it felt as if your mother really was there enveloping your entire frame as the familiar sweet fragrance she usually wore while you still lived them wafted into your nose.

“yes, i am safe, mother. i can assure you that.” you spoke softly.

“it’s just that.. the grandson of the owner in that coffee house took over. old man had finally retired.” you added, your parents merely nodded, making you continue as they were listening intently.

“he seemed pretty nice, though he had an.. aura that seemed to be intriguing. no one else in the town has that certain aura but him.” you continued.

“are you sure you will be alright, y/n?” came your mother’s worried tone, your father holding her hand.

“our child is a strong one, i’m sure y/n can handle it.” he reassured. your mother, on the other hand, merely stared between you and your father before releasing a low sigh.

“alright. just remember to cast a ward spell around your place whenever you sleep.” she said.

‘no need, she has been burning her self-made sages for a while now. might say that it’s quite useful.’ leo said, mewling up at the older woman.

it was when the light in the mirror somehow started to grow dim, indicating that the remaining time you had with your parents was slowly coming to an end. your parents, seeing the same thing as well, took a couple steps back from you, their hands intertwined with each other’s.

“it’s time for you to sleep, my child.” your mother said, you noticed how her eyes became a tad glossy. your father held her close to him and rubbed a hand on her arm reassuringly. the sight in front of you was enough to make your throat clench.

“we wish you well in your endeavours, y/n. stay safe, and good luck with the bakery.” your father said.

“take care of her, leo.” he added, the cat merely bowing his head and blinking slowly.

and with that, the object shone brightly once more, making you take a few steps back upon hearing leo telling you to do so with an arm covering your eyes. the familiar ringing noise was heard and then, silence surrounded you once again. you took your arm away from your eyes and saw how the cauldron from earlier laid idly on the grass, the fire you had prepared earlier was put out. taking a deep breath as you felt a slight rush of emotions, you went to pick up the cauldron, and the spellbook.

‘it’s late, young lady. we have another busy day at the bakery tomorrow.’ leo mewled, rubbing his body against your leg.

with a gentle smile, you leaned down so the cat could climb on your shoulders once again, purring as the two of you made your way inside the cottage so you could get started on your night routine before sleeping.

for some reason, a fox with fur as white as snow visited your dreams that night.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

it has been a few weeks now ever since your little bakery opened up. you weren’t exactly that popular nor was the bakery completely deserted of customers as well. you had your fair share of busy days, some days you had to even go for a quick run to the town’s market to get the ingredients that you had run out of. though, you weren’t complaining. you loved working at the bakery. something about seeing the people having their expressions brighten ever so slightly as soon as they took a bite out of your treats would always make you feel giddy on the inside.

and sometimes, when you really have to use it, you would quietly whisper an incantation or two to someone’s treat whenever you see them struggling with their day upon stepping through the doors of your bakery. your eyes holding a jovial twinkle once you see the happy expressions on their faces once they took a bite out of the treat.

“alright, time to close up.” you mumbled. and with a couple claps of your hands, the broom floated in the air before making its way towards your outstretched hand.

with that, you started to sweep the tiled floor and the daily routine of cleaning your bakery. whenever you did tricks like these, you made sure to keep it on the down low, only using it when you were really sure no one could see you doing so.

“good evening, miss baker.” wooyoung greeted, making you cease momentarily of picking up the empty trays for the day, mentally thanking yourself that he didn’t walk in just in time to see the floating broom.

ah, yes, jung wooyoung. it is no doubt that he is the old man’s grandson, alright. everyone in town loves him, saying his humble and bright personality reminded them of his grandfather, though with added snarkiness to it. but of course, they were all lighthearted.

on your days of not working in the bakery, you would find yourself spending time in the male’s coffee house. honestly, you weren’t a huge know-it-all when it came to coffee. all you know is that any type of caffeine being consumed by you will make you stay up all night. wooyoung was the one who would introduce you to the types of coffee he had in the place. from the weakest one to the strongest one, though you still can’t make any difference from them considering that it would still make you stay awake.

the two of you shared a similar bond for sweet things though. whenever you came to his coffee house, you would make sure to bring cinnamon rolls when he mentioned that your cinnamon rolls were really good during the first time you hung out at the coffee house. and just how you would bring cinnamon rolls to his place, the raven haired boy would make sure to bring two coffees (one of them with the appropriate amount of caffeine in them) during your break time.

it was during those hangouts the two of you grew closer but for some reason, you still couldn’t figure the unknown aura enveloping the male, the thought still gnawing in the back of your mind. and the snow fox tattoo on his arm.. it reminded you of the dreams you had been getting frequently now. you swear that sometimes you could see it staring at you with its fluffy tail swishing and curling around wooyoung’s neck. either that or you just really need to get your eyes checked.

or ask your mother if there was some type of restoration spell to fix your eyesight.

“well, if it isn’t, coffee boy. coming over for our daily hangouts again?” you replied, wooyoung following you to your kitchen to help with carrying the trays.

the boy leaned against the faux marbled counter crossing his arms. since he was wearing a long sleeved pale green shirt, the fox tattoo was hidden underneath it. as much as you were irritated with the fact your eyes could play tricks on you because of the damned fox tattoo, you would have to admit that you would find yourself admiring the details of his inked skin. sometimes you would catch yourself wanting a tattoo yourself but you were a little nervous around needles, unfortunately.

“ah, i can’t today sadly, i need to check the ingredients back home.” he replied, you looked over your shoulder with an eyebrow raised up.

“ingredients for..?”

“for my poti- ah!” the sudden squeak that left his lips was enough to make you turn around in alarm, wondering if he had hurt himself.

there, you see wooyoung aggressively rubbing his tattooed arm with his eyes glowering down at the fox tattoo. your eyebrows creased in confusion at the sight, was his tattoo still hurting him? surely that can’t be the reason. his head lifted up so your gazes could meet at once you asked if he was alright, you noticing the way his pupils were shaking as if he was nervous about something.

“oh yeah, i’m okay!” he quickly responded, hiding his arm behind his back.

“you were saying..” you continued as you placed the washed trays away, leaning against the sink.

you had expected that wooyoung would answer your question but instead, he walked closer to you. closer and closer. your eyes widened ever so slightly at his actions, leo on the shelf had his tail all fluffed up while his pointy ears flattened over his head as if preparing to pounce on the male if he planned on doing something to you. though you were nervous, you had kept a calm composure while reviewing all the protective incantations in your mind, or if that failed, you were ready to kick him between the legs.

you were about to cast a spell on him when the male held his hand up until you felt him picking softly at your hair, near your star shaped hair clip, then took a few steps back, showing you the pieces of dried batter that somehow managed to get on your hair.

“you got something in your hair there, miss baker.” he spoke softly, his expression softening up.

“also, i meant to say the ingredients for the coffee house. some were running out in the place already so i needed to check if i still have some at home.” wooyoung added smoothly.

“ah, that’s alright then. i guess i’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, still trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart from earlier.

“yeah, see you, miss baker!” he bid then turned around to walk away, leaving you slumped against the sink.

‘what the hell was that?’ leo exclaimed, tail swaying from side to side.

“don’t ask me, i’m as stumped as you are.” you sighed, pushing yourself off of the sink and looked around the kitchen to see if there was any more cleaning to do until your eyes landed on a certain box filled with cinnamon rolls.

with a sharp gasp, you grabbed the box and quickly made your out of the kitchen. you hoped that you could at least catch up with the raven haired male yet as soon as you stepped out, emptiness greeted you instead. your eyebrows furrowed as you walked directly outside of your bakery, looking around for wooyoung but he wasn’t there. you crossed the cobbled street and peeked through the windows of the coffee shop, still nothing. the place had its lights turned off, even the kitchen.

“how the hell did he walk so fast?” you grumbled, walking back inside.

oh well, maybe you could just give it to him tomorrow. for now, you had a bakery to close.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

“thank you, come again!” wooyoung’s voice rang throughout the coffee house, sighing in relief as he bid goodbye to the last customer for the day before his hands untied the tied strings of the brown apron around his waist.

“today’s a little busier than usual. don’t you think, yuki?” he mumbled, rolling up his sleeves to see the fox tattoo on his arm.

on his skin, the snow fox tattoo on his arm slowly uncurled itself from the tight ball she was in before yawning then wagged her fluffy tail happily, a clear indication she was content. how wooyoung managed to hide his enchanted tattoo from the public’s eye was astonishing, knowing full well how foxes could be sneaky and full of mischief, whether in tattoo form or not. if wooyoung could have a dollar every time yuki would disappear from his arm and ended up in a different part of his body, he could be a millionaire. though the idea was pleasant, it also made wooyoung scold her since someone could see her easily. but of course, he couldn’t stay mad at her for long. she was too adorable for her own good.

and being the only witch in town (or so he thought) wooyoung needed to be extra careful as well.

honestly, wooyoung never felt the pain of being inked. being a witch himself, he just managed to conjure it up on his own skin and enchanted it so it could move by itself. hence, the reason why yuki would often move from place to place on his body. sometimes even jumping out to grow into a full size snow fox once she wanted to stretch her legs and not be stuck on skin. and knowing how the fox had so much energy packed in her, yuki would sometimes visit wooyoung in his dreams just to have an extra playtime with the male. though, when she’s feeling cheeky, she tends to jump to someone else’s dreams, someone who wooyoung would think occasionally before falling asleep.

drying the last coffee mug, wooyoung looked over at the bakery on the side of the street. his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your bakery’s lights were still on. normally, you would close earlier than wooyoung’s coffee house every saturday and sunday since the both of you knew the town wasn’t as busy on weekends.

“she’s still at the bakery. wanna go check up on her, yuki?” the raven haired male said, looking down at his forearm, smiling at the sight of his companion hopping in circles excitedly.

locking up the coffee house, wooyoung made quick strides across the street to reach your bakery. peeking through the windows, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion that he couldn’t see you, instead your lights were still on. curiosity got the best of him and soon, wooyoung found himself inside. the smell of pastries still lingered in the air as soon as he entered the place. everything in the bakery looked normal, nothing out of the ordinary. that was until he walked into the kitchen, a sharp gasp leaving his lips at the sight.

your broom was floating in the air, not only that, it was sweeping by itself. wooyoung had to rub his eyes immediately to make sure they were not tricking him, maybe he even drank a lot of coffee to the point where he’s hallucinating things. however, those ideas were thrown out the window once he saw that the broom was still moving by itself, lightly tapping against his foot as if indicating him to move over so it could sweep over where he was standing, to which made him quickly move away.

his irises looked around the place before they landed on one of the many shelves that hung on the kitchen walls, a familiar glass bottle with some type of golden liquid filled in them to be exact. to someone’s eyes, it could easily be mistaken as a bottle of honey but does honey radiate a bright yellow light?

swallowing thickly, so many things were running through his mind. but all answers already pointed to one thing.

“wooyoung!”

with wide eyes, the male spun around, almost falling on his own from how fast he had moved. there, you stood in front of him with leo on your shoulders, both of your eyes were wide as you realised the broom was still moving on its own. with a quick snap of your fingers, the broom stilled by itself and fell idly on the floor.

“l-listen!” you started, heartbeat rising as your hands started to get all clammy as you were caught.

“...a witch.” was the first thing wooyoung had said.

silence hung over the both of you. it was so quiet that it was almost deafening.

your mind was racing with all the possibilities of what wooyoung could do when he found out about your true identity. you wanted to use the incantation to him forget what he just witnessed yet your throat felt constricted, as if someone was clutching on your vocal chords so you just stood there in front of the raven haired male who stared at you with his jaw dropped. once you felt a little confident, you shakily reached a hand up, about to snap your fingers as you whispered the incantation.

“wait, wait! i’m happy that you’re a witch too!” wooyoung interjected quickly, knowing full well which spell you were about to cast.

wait.. too?

“what..?” you whispered, the hand lifted near your face dropping to your side.

the surprised face on wooyoung’s features slowly melted away at the realisation he had, replacing it with a relieved yet jovial expression. you, on the other hand, stood there, the idea of being found out and having to move away from the town when you just started your own business was still lingering in your mind.

by now, the two of you were seated at one of your tables, as what wooyoung had suggested so that the two of you could talk. it took a couple of times for wooyoung to reassure you, yuki even jumping out of his arm as she attempted to help her owner comfort you, nuzzling her head against your hand. leo was on the counter of your cash register, sharp yet curious eyes watching the snow fox grow from a mere ink to a full sized snow fox.

although finally calmed down, your head was still in your hands as you tried to get a hold of the things that had happened.

“so, what you’re saying is.. you’re a witch too? does that make the old man a witch too?” you said, lifting your head to look at the male who only smiled sheepishly in return.

“well, grandpa is just a normal human. though, his wife is the one who is a witch, which she passed her powers onto my mother.” he reminded you.

it all made sense now. the unfamiliar aura that gnawed in the back of your mind, the countless times of you wondering if your eyes were playing tricks on you from the fox tattoo on his arm, the way he apparated in thin air that one time when you wanted to give him his cinnamon rolls, and how you saw the exact fox popping up often in your dreams.. things finally fell into place.

“god, the things that are happening..” you groaned, resting your forehead on the faux marble table of yours.

wooyoung could only laugh, and turned his head to the side as he watched leo and yuki chasing each other around the bakery. he felt the weight on his shoulders slowly being lifted off. relief was what he was feeling, relieved that he at least found someone the same as he was. his eyebrow quirked up once you suddenly straightened up in your seat, a look of realisation hitting you.

“you mentioned how the fo-”

“yuki.” he corrected.

“right, yuki, would visit someone in their dreams right? and that someone is someone you were thinking about before you slept?” you said, wooyoung nodding his head in confirmation.

“...does that mean you were thinking about me?” you asked.

wooyoung choked on his spit, the apples on his cheeks turning into a faint shade of pink before abruptly standing up from his seat, promptly calling yuki, who immediately scrambled up to the male and spun around. a bright light shone briefly before it disappeared, going back to being wooyoung’s tattoo on his arm.

“i-i need to head home, i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n!” he announced, making his way out of the bakery.

“wooyoung, wait!” you tried to catch him but like a little while ago, he was quick to apparate away.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

“well, aren’t you glad that you finally found another witch friend, my child?” your mother said.

you had decided to conjure up the mirror like portal once again, you wanted to talk to your parents about what you had just recently discovered. no, you had to talk to them. though, you were relieved that you had found a fellow witch in town, the idea of being caught still scared you.

“with how he found out about you, i really should say you need to be careful next time, y/n.” your father said.

despite the strictness laced in his tone, he was genuinely concerned about your safety. and he was right, someone could have easily found out. you had to admit that it was your fault for letting the broom move by itself, thinking that no one would have walked in since, well, it was your own kitchen. your head hung low as you emitted a groan, hands coming up to rub your face. you were thankful that it was wooyoung who had found out, a fellow witch just like you.

“i think that also solves the little mystery revolving around the boy, doesn’t it, my dear?” your mother said. you could only nod your head, lifting your head to send your parents a little smile.

“i trust that these things won’t happen again, y/n?” your father added.

“of course, father. i will be more careful next time.” your parents’ expression softened up at your small promise before the light around the mirror had once again grow dim, indicating that you needed to finish your conversation soon.

“do tell me how the progress goes between the two of you, y/n.” your mother teased, effectively making your cheeks heat up before whining out of protest.

“mother!”

with one hearty laugh coming from both of your parents, along with a final wave of the night, you knew what was coming up next. shutting your eyes, the ringing grew loud in your ear before it finally died down, letting the silent night to envelope around you and leo, who was already fast asleep next to your legs. rolling your eyes, you gently picked him up in your arms along with your cauldron and spellbook before making your way back to your cottage.

your eyes were staring at your reflection through your dresser’s mirror while brushing your hair, rewinding the events that had occurred earlier in your bakery, and the hasty explanation wooyoung had mentioned once he sat the both of you down. but.. a particular fact lingered in your mind.

‘what exactly do i have to do in your mind, wooyoung?’ you thought.

‘for the last time, go the hell to sleep. your mind is too loud.’ ah, of course, the one and only grouch just had to interrupt.

what a sourpuss.

with a shake of your head, you switched off the lights and made yourself comfortable in your bed before finally getting that much needed sleep.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

“miss, can i, can i buy a cake? it’s for my mom, it’s her birthday today!”

your eyes looked down at the chubby hand sliding the crumpled up dollar bills along with the shining coins on top of your counter, making the conclusion it had been kept for quite a while now.

standing in front of your counter (though you had to lean a little to have a good look at the child), it was the little girl from the very first day of you opening up your little bakery, pigtails and all. you bit down on your lower lip, heart clenching at the sight of her puppy-ish eyes. you didn’t have the heart to tell her that she had enough money to buy a whole cake. instead, you knelt down to her height and asked if she knew what her mother’s favourite treat in the bakery was.

“oh, she loved your mini chocolate croissants!” the girl chimed, pigtails bouncing as she excitedly hopped in place.

“alright, how about i give you the croissants instead?” you offered.

with a gentle smile, and a pat on her head, you straightened up and rushed around the bakery to pack the croissants into the little box, not forgetting the cat sticker to seal the little opening so it wouldn’t fall. you also placed the box into a white paper bag so the treats won’t easily fall out of the girl’s hands.

a soft cheer made its way out of the girl’s lips, taking the bag in her chubby hands before thanking you as she made her way out of the bakery. following the retreating figure, it was only then you noticed a certain raven haired male leaning against the doorway with two cups of coffee in his hands.

it had been a few days after the incident in the very back of your kitchen, you were awkward and cautious during the next day of meeting but wooyoung never gave up in trying to convince you that everything was fine, and that no one would find out about the both of your identities. as per usual, he would always bring you your coffee whenever it was your break time. sometimes, you would even sneak a little incantation in his cinnamon rolls to make his day a little better whenever you saw how his face held a frustrated expression, most likely dealing with a stubborn customer.

and ever since then, wooyoung was willing to wait for you to close up your bakery, yuki playing with leo. it was a surprise that leo was actually getting along with the fox considering how the two were polar opposites of each other, both physical and personality wise. he even managed to communicate through wooyoung’s mind now, sometimes having wooyoung laugh out loud from the cat’s snarky comments.

“one iced latte for our lady.” he grinned, handing you the cup of said drink, you gratefully taking it in your hands.

“our?” you chuckled. in response, wooyoung merely eyed his arm where yuki was spinning in circles.

you couldn’t help but coo at the snow fox, whispering softly underneath your breath so only you and wooyoung could hear, “hi there, yuki.”

“i was wondering..” wooyoung suddenly started, making you look up, tilting your head as you urged for him to continue.

“do you wanna go somewhere? after you close up, i mean.” wooyoung asked.

now that he mentioned, you had never really explored much of the town as of late considering how you would busy yourself in the bakery, and only went straight at home so you could finally rest or work on your spells and incantations (mostly conjuration spells). with a wide smile, you nodded your head.

“i don’t see why not. a little break from the bakery won’t hurt.” you chuckled.

the sheepish grin had appeared itself over wooyoung’s lips, making the apples of his cheeks grow fuller by the action. you won’t lie, it is an endearing sight.

‘i heard that.’ came leo’s voice, causing you to snap your gaze on him while wooyoung confusedly looked over at the cat who was busy licking his paw.

“what is he talking about?” the boy asked.

your cheeks flushed a faint shade of crimson after hearing the question as you waved a hand in a dismissive manner, mentioning how it was just random thought you had.

‘a random thought thinking that he has a.. ‘cute’ smile, young lady?’ leo snickered.

you could only glare at the feline while wooyoung snapped his gaze from the cat to you, the confused expression on his face melting away and instead, was replaced with a sly grin.

“you think it’s a cute smile, huh?” he teased, causing you to groan before grabbing your broom.

cue a loud yowl coming from the cat as you chased the cat around while wooyoung laughed his high pitched laugh at the entertaining sight.

“i guess both our companions know how to embarrass us.” he grinned, immediately catching you in his arms as you were about to run past him once again.

“i swear, one of these days i’m gonna turn that cat into a dog instead.” you mumbled.

it was only when wooyoung’s cologne wafting into your nose had your attention, looking up once you had calmed down from the brief chasing around. sure, you had always smelled wooyoung’s cologne whenever he stopped by but being so close to him like this, almost made you never want to leave his arms. it was if you were slowly growing intoxicated by his scent.

“y/n?” wooyoung called.

“huh?” you blinked, breaking out of the trance.

“i said i needed to go back to the coffee house so i’ll see you later?” he asked once again, amused at the slight dazed look glossing over your irises.

realising what he meant, you immediately pulled away from the embrace, almost whining at the loss of warmth around your frame. hugging the broom close to your chest, you faintly nodded.

“yeah, i’ll see you later, wooyoung.” you waved as the male made his way out after bidding goodbye, though not without sending a wink at your way.

“don’t miss my smile too much, miss baker.”

“jung wooyoung!”

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

“and that’s the last of them!” you huffed, placing the clean tray into the many racks.

with both hands on your hips, your eyes glanced around the kitchen to make sure there weren’t dirty trays or utensils in your kitchen. once satisfied, you untied your apron and hung it over the little coat rack in the corner before heading out, making sure you didn’t forget your keys. from the last specks of crimson painting the nearly black sky, the night was about to greet you once again.

true to his word, wooyoung was already waiting for you. he sent you his bright and cheeky grin upon seeing your figure walking out of the bakery, making quick strides to stand next to you as you locked the main entrance of the bakery. once he saw that you were done he held out his arm, glancing at both you and leo who, as usual, rested on your shoulders. sometimes he wondered how your back doesn't hurt from the amount of times leo would climb on you.

“ready to go?” wooyoung asked, looking down at you. with a link of your arm around his, you nodded.

though what happened next, nearly made you want to cling onto the male next to you. you had expected for a walk in the park or something similar. not apparating into thin air and quickly arriving at - you squinted around before realising where you were, the town’s old watchtower. the balcony of the watchtower to be more specific. though, no one has ever set foot here in over three years now since the town had a new one on the other side.

with the way you were practically hugging wooyoung’s arm, he made a short conclusion that this must have been your first time doing so, or rather, you not being used to it. leo was already off of your shoulders, calmly licking his paw as he balanced himself on top of the railing. yuki, on the other hand, was napping so she didn’t join leo this time. gently placing his hands on your shoulders, wooyoung leaned his face down to look at your face, concern painting over his own features.

“you okay?” he asked.

“s-sorry, i was just not expecting that, is all.” you mumbled, giving him an embarrassed smile from the sudden confession. once you were sure you were steady on your feet, your gentle eyes stared at the scenery from the balcony.

you knew that the town was beautiful, but seeing the town where most of the lights were turned on along with the moonlight illuminating the calm waters of the sea right next to it, the stars shining ever so brightly on the sky’s dark canvas. the scenery was absolutely breathtaking. once the night breeze brushed against your skin, the strands of your hair slowly dancing to their own rhythm from the gentle blow of the wind, you shut your eyes and took a deep breath. instantly, the smell of the ocean filled your senses, making a soft smile to curl itself over your soft petals.

wooyoung, who was leaning against the doorway of the entrance, couldn't help but admire the way the moonlight kissed your skin, the night breeze blowing against your strands, and the peaceful expression you held. over the months of getting to know you, he somehow started to develop feelings for you.

how could he not when you looked at peace in your kitchen baking the treats whenever he stopped by? how could he not when your expression brightens every time a customer complimented your treats? how could he not when soft laugh that sounded so melodic in his ears whenever he told his lame jokes or his embarrassing childhood stories. no, this was not some kind of puppy love or a short crush.

jung wooyoung has fallen for you.

he had spent nights trying to think of other things and not you before falling asleep, knowing how suspicious you would get if yuki frequently visited your dreams. sometimes he would even charmed your drink of the day to give you an extra burst of energy to get through the remaining hours of your day after seeing the tired look on your face. he knew that you would slip the little happiness potion into his cinnamon rolls yet could only pretend that he didn’t know, not wanting you to ever stop.

taking his eyes away from you briefly, wooyoung looked down at the palms of his hands before his eyelids fluttered shut. his lips moved as a hushed chant left his lips, slowly a faint pink smoke started to form on his palms but he was not done. half lidded eyes stared at the smoke in his hands before they were clasped together. with pursed lips, wooyoung gently blew into his hands.

there, laid a single rose in his previously empty hands. looking up at you, who was still occupied by the night view of the town, he cleared his throat, calling your name to catch your attention.

the surprise expression on your face upon seeing the rose in his hand was enough to make the male release a low laugh, walking over to where you stood. with the rose being held out, wooyoung stared at your face.

“wooyoung, what’s this?” you inquired, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

like wooyoung, you had your fair share of sleepless nights as well. but rather than thinking of other things, the boy in front of you managed to crawl into your mind every now and then, sometimes you would even find yourself zoning out while stirring whatever concoction you wanted to create, only snapping out of it once leo had called your attention or swatted at your hand.

before you could even realise it, you developed feelings for the raven haired male as well.

how could you not when he loves making you flustered by watching you with gentle eyes as you bake? how could you not when he would come by your bakery to give you your coffee while the two of you talked about the current highlight of your days during break time? how could you not when he would cheekily sprinkle a tiny bit of flour in your hair by levitating the packet above your head just to gain your attention? how could you not when his laughter sounded so endearing?

you, too, had fallen for jung wooyoung.

“from the months of meeting and getting to know you, i knew you had something that intrigued me. i have always thought that you were a normal townsperson, never a fellow witch like me.” wooyoung started, face perking up as soon as he saw the way you playfully grimaced after remembering the time he had found out your true identity.

“before i know it, the intriguing feeling was replaced with admiration, thinking i only admired how you managed to keep a calm demeanour whenever you had to face a stubborn customer, unlike me. but i was wrong.” he trailed off, feeling his heart beating fast as his words were caught in his throat.

as an attempt for him to calm down, you silently reached out for his free hand and laced your fingers in his. your reassuring smile was enough to let him know that he could take his time, gathering his words. once ready, wooyoung gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he continued.

“the nights spent thinking about you, having our own little break together, and seeing you walk through the doors of the coffee house just to give me the cinnamon rolls… i knew that i have fallen for you.” he curled a stray strand of hair behind your ears as his warm irises stared into your own, letting his hand resting against your cheek.

“so, y/n l/n..” he called out your name, making your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

“will you be mine?”

you didn’t answer right away, merely wrapping your arms around wooyoung’s neck as the corners of your lips stretched themselves into a huge grin, nodding your head. “yes, a million times yes.”

laughing out of pure relief, wooyoung hugged you tightly against his frame, your chin resting on top of his shoulder as the two of you stayed in each other’s arms, slightly swaying in place. it was when he pulled away that made you look up, your faces mere inches away.

“may i kiss you?” he asked softly, eyes trained on your brims.

“you may.” you whispered in return.

the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, slowly feeling your faces drawing closer. closer, and closer, until the gap was finally closed with your lips pressing his own. he tasted like coffee, while wooyoung could make out the faint taste of cinnamon on your lips. his hand slowly came up to cup against your nape, moving your lips together in a slow yet synchronised dance. it seemed that everything else didn’t matter as the both of you were in your own world.

to wooyoung, this was better than any potion you had snuck in his cinnamon rolls.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

“babe, where did you put the new coffee mugs?” wooyoung called out, looking through the cabinets.

“ah, i washed them. i thought that was what you wanted to do as soon as they arrived.” you said, poking your head out from the kitchen.

it had been a few months that the two of you had finally gotten together. before you know it, your first anniversary is just a week away! during the first couple of months, the two of you went on dates frequently. it was to be expected considering the two of you would see each other on the daily. sometimes you would grow embarrassing from the flirty winks being sent at your way by the male, no matter how long you had known him.

just recently, or rather, a couple of days ago. the two of you had decided to sell off your bakery and instead, started your own shared coffee house together in wooyoung’s place, now naming the place as ‘utopia’. he was in charge of the coffee orders while you were busy with your pastries. sometimes, the both of you would teasingly cast harmless jinxes on each other as you worked, creating a small war that consists of spells and potions. of course, the two of you were careful to not let anyone else see it.

occasionally, the male would stay over at your cottage. the first time he visited, he was gushing at almost everything in your place. even admiring how peaceful the place was whenever night falls. the frequent visits only met that wooyoung had an excuse to give you his shirts or sweaters, saying how you looked absolutely adorable in his clothes. it was when your closet was almost full of his clothes that the two of you had decided to just live together in the small cottage of yours.

to your surprise, he had insisted on wanting to see your parents. which you let him do so. once the male and your parents had met, your mother was delighted to have finally met him while your father kept a stern act, causing your mother to whisper that he should be nice. of course, with the amount of times wooyoung would talk to your parents (which was whenever he stayed the night), your father slowly opened up and would even crack jokes with wooyoung.

knowing that the cottage was a safe haven for you, wooyoung would often teach you about the conjuration spells along with enchanting. he had noticed the awed expression on your face every time yuki had switched back into her tattooed form before asking whether you wanted a tattoo as well. your reaction of mentioning how you were scared of needles amused him, you glaring at him in a sulky manner in response. without much thought, wooyoung reassured you that you didn’t need needles for this.

so here you are, standing next to wooyoung greeting the customers that walked into the coffee house before taking orders, the tattoo that consisted of your favourite flowers adorned your wrist, making it look like a makeshift bracelet. occasionally, the flowers would change into a flower following your emotions.

“love, what do you wanna do for our anniversary?” wooyoung asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressed his lips on your shoulder.

you couldn’t help but to emit a light chuckle turning your head slightly to give his cheek a kiss, humming in thought. “dinner at the cottage, how does that sound?”

nodding at the suggestion, wooyoung grinned, eyes twinkling with excitement. “sounds good to me.”

with a final kiss on the tip of your nose, your lover unwrapped his arms to greet another customer who had walked inside the coffee house, you immediately walked to stand next to him.

you were, no, are content. you are content living in a small cottage with your lover, you are content working in a coffee house with wooyoung, you are content with everything life has to offer as long as you are with jung wooyoung.

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