#two romantics enter a bookstore... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nikixkoo · 16 days ago

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𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

pairing: jungkook x f!reader.

word count: 7.7k

content warnings: mentions of smoking.

a/n: hi! it’s niki here. 𐙚 honestly, i created this story from my longing for a romantic love. i didn’t plan for it to be this long, but i guess i let myself be carried away by the feeling of the moment. i hope u enjoy it and that u’re able to feel all the emotions i tried to convey! lots of love, muak. ≽^•⩊•^≼

He found peace in her quiet. She found forever in his touch.

summary: He spends his days marking people’s skin with the stories they carry. You spend yours surrounded by stories written long before you.

His world hums with noise; yours, with silence. But somewhere between the chaos and calm, you found each other, and now, you’ve built a life where both can exist.

There’s love in the mundane. Healing in the quiet. And in every brush of his fingers and every turn of your page, a language only the two of you speak.

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The late afternoon sun filters through the front windows of your bookstore, casting golden light across worn wooden floors and the rows of mismatched tables. There’s a familiar hum in the air: the gentle clink of mugs, soft murmurs of conversation, the occasional page turning. You’ve always loved this hour, when the rush slows down and the light settles like honey across everything.

You wipe down the counter slowly, eyes half-focused on the mug in your hand. Or rather, pretending to be focused, because your attention has drifted again, like it always does when he’s in the room.

Jungkook is sitting at a table near the front, half turned toward his friend as he speaks, his laugh spilling out across the space like sunlight. He’s loud, he always is, but it’s never too much. Not to you. He talks with his whole body, hands moving in quick bursts, tattoos on full display where the sleeves of his black tee are pushed up to his elbows. There’s a half-empty iced americano beside him, a sketchbook lying forgotten near the edge of the table. His smile is wide and unguarded, the kind that makes his nose scrunch and his eyes disappear.

You don’t even realize you’re smiling too until you catch your reflection in the glass behind the counter.

God, he’s beautiful. And loud. And a little ridiculous. And still, somehow, yours.

Your chest swells quietly with something warm and heavy. Not the fluttery rush of new love, but the settled, soft ache of the kind that’s stayed. The kind that folds into your life without asking, fits into your quiet without taking up too much space. He belongs in this place, even if he doesn’t match it. Ink, leather and cigarette smoke in a room that smells like cinnamon, old books, and roasted beans, and somehow, he still fits.

He throws his head back laughing at something his friend says, and you swear you can feel it from across the room. That joy, that light.

Your cat, curled up on a stack of used poetry books behind the register, lets out a soft yawn, tail flicking against your elbow. You reach down, brushing your fingers over her fur.

It’s just an ordinary day in your bookstore. But he’s here. Laughing. Existing. Loving you, even without touching you.

And somehow, that’s everything.

Jungkook’s friend is slipping on his coat as the two of them walk toward the counter, deep in conversation. Their laughter has softened now, like they’re slowly re-entering your quiet world.

You glance up just as they reach you, and the friend grins, lifting a hand in an easy wave.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says, nodding toward you. “And for letting me hang out here all afternoon. Place is still perfect.”

You smile, already fond of him. He’s one of the few friends of Jungkook’s who always treats your little shop like something sacred. “You’re always welcome.”

He glances between you and Jungkook, something teasing in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone. See you both soon?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, offering a fist bump. “Tell Hyun I said hi.”

“Will do.” And then the friend leans a little closer across the counter to say quietly to you, “Take care of him, yeah?”

You laugh softly, nodding. “Always.”

He sends one last wave before heading for the door. The bell above rings, and then it’s just the two of you.

You don’t get a second to pretend you’re busy, because the moment the door swings shut, Jungkook turns fully toward you, eyes warm and crinkled at the corners.

And before he says anything, he leans in and presses a soft, brief kiss to your lips. Not rushed, not dramatic. Just gentle and familiar, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You blink up at him when he pulls back, lips still tingling.

His voice is low when he finally speaks. “You looked so pretty behind the counter, I had to kiss you.”

Your heart does something. That quiet ache again, warm and steady. You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way you’re smiling.

“Shut up,” you mumble, cheeks flushed.

He just smirks. “Make me.”

You shake your head, still blushing as you turn to busy your hands with the coffee cups again, though he’s already seen through you.

Jungkook leans his elbows on the counter, chin in one hand, watching you with that lazy little smile he saves just for moments like this.

“Busy day?” he asks, voice quieter now, like he’s already syncing with the rhythm of your space.

You nod, still half-turned. “Mhm, kind of. The morning was slow, but it picked up around lunch. That girl with the poetry obsession came back again, third time this week.”

He hums. “She’s the one who sits in the window seat, right? Leaves lipstick prints on the mugs.”

“That’s her,” you say, lips twitching. “I don’t even bother scrubbing them anymore.”

He laughs softly. “Honestly? Respect.”

You glance over at him, eyes soft. “What about you? Did you work today?”

He nods. “Couple of appointments this morning. Finished that phoenix piece I was telling you about.”

“Oh, the one with the color gradients?” you ask, interest lighting your expression.

“That’s the one.” He leans in a little, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Took me six hours. I barely moved.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re insane.”

He shrugs, but there’s pride in his smirk. “You love it.”

“I love you, not your questionable choices.”

He grins wide at that, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Just that quiet stretch of air between you, filled with everything unsaid and everything already known.

Then, he speaks again. “I missed you today.”

You blink, surprised. “You were here all afternoon.”

“I know,” he says, gaze warm. “Still missed you.”

Your heart gives the gentlest ache again. You reach across the counter, brushing your fingers against his. He hooks his pinky around yours like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it is.

You don’t know how long you stand there like that, pinkies tangled across the counter, the rest of the world soft and far away. But eventually, the spell breaks with the rustle of a customer’s bag and the quiet scrape of a chair being tucked in.

Jungkook glances toward the front of the shop. “Closing time?”

You sigh, glancing at the clock. “Almost. Fifteen more minutes.”

He hums like he’s considering something. “Wanna cheat and call it now? I’ll help.”

You tilt your head at him. “You’ll help?”

He holds a hand over his heart. “Swear on my life. I’m excellent at stacking chairs.”

You can’t help but laugh, grabbing the rag you’d left beside the espresso machine. “Fine. But I’m docking your imaginary paycheck if you slack off.”

He grins and pushes away from the counter with dramatic flair. “Deal.”

It’s quiet teamwork after that. Him collecting mugs and wiping down tables, you tallying up the register and shutting off the coffee machine. The air smells like cinnamon and espresso, the soft indie playlist still humming faintly in the background. Everything feels calm. Easy.

Your cat, still asleep on the poetry books, stirs when you dim the overhead lights. She stretches long and slow, then hops off the stack with practiced elegance, trailing you as you move toward the front door.

Jungkook’s already flipped the sign to Closed, and now he’s crouched near the counter, fingers reaching out to scratch behind the cat’s ears.

“She rules this place,” he says, glancing up at you.

“She lets me think I’m in charge,” you reply with a smile, grabbing your coat.

When everything’s locked up and your bag is slung over your shoulder, you meet him by the door. He’s holding it open already, one hand reaching for yours without even thinking. It fits easily in his.

The street outside is quiet, the sky painted in that deep indigo that comes right before night fully settles in. A gentle breeze moves through your hair as you step outside, his thumb brushing back and forth over your knuckles.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs.

The sidewalk glows gold beneath the streetlights, and the world feels slowed down, like the night is stretching itself out just for the two of you.

Jungkook’s hand is still laced with yours, warm and steady. You walk in comfortable silence for a few blocks, the only sounds being your footsteps and the distant hum of a car passing now and then.

When you reach the corner by the florist that always closes too early, he slows just a bit and slips his hand free.

You already know why.

Without a word, he pulls a cigarette from the crumpled pack in his back pocket and tucks it between his lips. You watch as he lights it with practiced ease, the flick of the flame reflecting briefly in his eyes.

He takes a slow drag, exhales like he’s been holding something in all day.

You don’t say anything. You just walk a little closer, your shoulder brushing his as the smoke drifts upward and disappears into the night.

He looks over at you, lips quirking. “You okay?”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He gestures toward you with the cigarette, smiling. “You always get quiet when I smoke.”

“It’s not the smoking… it’s the way you always end up talking after. I like listening to you,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

He slows a little more, like your words tugged gently at his chest.

“Why?”

You shrug, looking forward again. “You always sound like you mean what you say.”

He laughs under his breath, takes another drag. “You make me sound like I’m wise or something.”

You glance at him again. “You are, sometimes.”

He exhales a quiet scoff, grinning. “Only when I’m with you.”

There’s a pause. Then, still looking ahead, he asks, “Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t met?”

You look up at him, surprised. “Why would you ask that?”

He flicks the ash off the edge of the cigarette, watching it fall. “I don’t know. Just… I was thinking earlier, watching you behind the counter. How you move through that space like it’s part of you. Like it breathes with you.”

You stay quiet, letting him keep going.

“And I thought… God, what if I never walked in that day?” He smiles softly, gaze far away. “What if I never saw you sitting there, reading some poetry book with your hair falling in your eyes?”

You feel warmth bloom in your chest, slow and deep.

You bump your shoulder into his gently. “Then I guess you’d still be overcharging people for snake tattoos.”

He laughs, loud and full. “Rude.”

“I’m right, though.”

“You are.” He stubs the cigarette out against the brick wall near you, flicking it into the trash. “You’re always right.”

Then he’s reaching for your hand again, like it never left his.

The rest of the walk is quiet. But not empty.

Never empty with him.

The apartment is quiet when you get there, the kind of quiet that feels lived in, not empty. You unlock the door with one hand, the other still in his. Jungkook stays close behind you, his chin briefly brushing your shoulder as he waits for you to push the door open.

Your cat darts in first. Tail high, full of purpose, like she owns the place and just allowed you both to tag along.

Jungkook laughs under his breath. “She’s such a diva.”

“She’s earned it,” you murmur, setting your bag down by the door.

Inside, it smells faintly like the lavender candle you lit before leaving for work and the vanilla detergent you both pretend not to be obsessed with. You toe off your shoes and watch as Jungkook drops his jacket onto the back of the couch before disappearing into the bedroom.

Your cat immediately finds her spot on the armrest, curling up like she never even left it.

You smile, shaking your head as you make your way into the kitchen, flicking on the soft under-cabinet lights. The gentle glow spills over the counter just as Jungkook reappears, barefoot, in an old black t-shirt with a tiny bleach stain on the hem and those worn gray sweats you secretly adore.

He stops in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you for a moment.

“You want me to heat something up?”

You turn your head to look at him. “You offering?”

“I’m pretending to,” he smirks, pushing off the frame and heading toward you.

While he rummages through the fridge for leftover takeout, you pour water into the cat’s ceramic bowl. She comes padding over, brushing against your leg with a tiny meow of gratitude.

Jungkook turns with a container in hand, holding it up. “Spicy tofu or the pasta from two nights ago?”

“Pasta,” you say. “The tofu’s yours. I’m not saving you from your own decisions again.”

He grins and sets both containers on the counter, bumping his hip against yours in a gentle nudge. “You love my bad decisions.”

“Only when they involve you showing up at my store with pastries.”

“You mean like yesterday?” he asks, leaning in close.

“Exactly like yesterday,” you murmur.

The microwave hums in the background. You glance at him. Hair a little messy, tattoos peeking out from the edge of his sleeve, the silver hoop in his lip glinting under the warm light, and you feel it again.

That peace. That fullness.

Home.

By the time the food’s warmed up and plated, neither of you bother with the table.

You carry the bowls to the couch while Jungkook grabs a couple of drinks from the fridge. He flicks off the kitchen lights as he follows you, the apartment dim now, lit only by the warm glow of the living room lamp and the muted city lights slipping in through the window.

Your cat is already curled up on the cushion between your spots, like she knew the routine. You give her a gentle nudge and she grumbles, but moves, stretching before claiming the blanket at the edge instead.

Jungkook settles beside you, his thigh pressed to yours, bowl in one hand and remote in the other. He flips aimlessly through a few shows before landing on some slow, black-and-white film neither of you have seen. You don’t really care.

You eat in the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. Pausing only to steal bites from each other’s bowls, brushing arms now and then, smiling without needing to say why.

When the food’s gone, he leans back with a satisfied groan, placing the empty bowls on the coffee table. He stretches out, arm draping over the back of the couch, and like its instinct, you curl into his side, your head resting right over his heartbeat.

His fingers move to your arm without thinking, tracing slow, absentminded circles over your skin. You feel it everywhere, those small touches of his, quiet reminders you’re loved even when no words are spoken.

“Comfy?” he asks softly, voice low and rough around the edges.

“Mhm,” you hum. “You make a good pillow.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t fall asleep on me again.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He doesn’t argue, just rests his cheek against your hair, breathing you in.

For a while, neither of you say a thing. The movie flickers on, forgotten. Outside, the city keeps breathing, keeps moving—but in here, time folds in around you. Quiet and full.

And when Jungkook finally speaks, his voice is a whisper against your temple.

“You know I’d choose this in every version of my life, right?”

You smile without opening your eyes.

“I know.”

The bell above the tattoo studio door jingled softly, and Jungkook didn’t bother looking up at first, he was cleaning up his station, half-focused on the mess of ink caps and gloves when the familiar scent of coffee hit him first.

“Slow day,” you say gently, your voice filling the space like warmth in cold hands.

He turns around instantly, a slow smile blooming across his face like he’s been waiting for you all day without even realizing it. You’re standing there with two takeaway cups in your hands and that soft, content expression you always wear when you’re around him.

“Yeah?” he asks, crossing the room to you, brushing his fingers along the back of your hand as he takes the coffee. “Guess I’m lucky, then.”

You smile, stepping inside further, eyes scanning the space. It’s warm and a little chaotic. Sketches taped up along the walls, half-finished designs on his desk, a playlist humming low from the speaker in the corner. The usual scent of disinfectant and ink lingers faintly beneath the scent of him—tobacco, coffee, and something warm you can’t quite name.

He takes a sip of the coffee, eyes closing for half a second. “You always remember how I like it.”

“Of course,” you murmur, fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the couch as you sit. “It was quiet at the shop. No one was really coming in. I thought I’d rather be here.”

He leans against his counter, watching you with that soft-eyed look he always gets when he’s not quite sure what to do with how much he loves you.

“Well, your timing’s good. I’ve got one more appointment today, but they’re not here yet. You’ve got me for a little while.”

You glance around again, settling deeper into the couch like it’s yours—which, in a way, it is. “Mind if I stay while you work?”

He raises an eyebrow, sipping again. “Since when do you ask?”

You laugh quietly. “Since now. Felt polite.”

“I don’t mind. You know that. I like having you here.”

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens and his next client steps inside, looking around curiously. Jungkook straightens up and waves them over, the professional mask slipping into place, though the corners of his smile don’t fade.

He glances over his shoulder at you before getting started. “You staying right there?”

You nod, settling in with your coffee. “Right here.”

He holds your gaze a moment longer, like he’s saying something else entirely with his eyes, then turns back to his work.

You stay curled up on the couch while Jungkook welcomes his client, a young guy with an eager smile and a printed reference folded in his hand. They chat for a while—positioning, size, meaning—and you sip your coffee slowly, letting the comforting buzz of their conversation and the gentle whir of the machine lull you into a quiet rhythm.

But every now and then, Jungkook glances your way.

It’s subtle at first, a flick of his eyes as he adjusts the stencil, a smirk playing on his lips when he catches you watching him. He’s in his zone, sleeve rolled up, brows furrowed in focus, gloved hands moving with practiced precision. And yet, somehow, it feels like half his attention is still wrapped around you.

You look away, trying not to smile. He sees it anyway.

Between needle strokes, he speaks to the client with ease, explaining aftercare instructions and cracking a light joke, but then, in a pause, he throws a quick glance your way and mouths, stop staring.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence, and take another sip of coffee.

He grins, shaking his head softly, then leans in closer to the client again, focused. But when he straightens up to switch needles, he wipes his hands, catches your eye again, and mouths this time, you’re distracting.

Your heart skips a beat. You tilt your head, lips curving. It’s not your fault he’s attractive when he’s focused. Or when he’s not. Or always.

You reach into your tote bag and pull out a book, an excuse to look away, to settle your nerves, but you can still feel his attention flickering to you between every pass of the machine.

“Sorry,” the client says suddenly, wincing a little. “Did I move?”

“No worries,” Jungkook says easily, adjusting the guy’s arm. “You’re good. Just breathe.”

He leans in again, focused, jaw tight with concentration. You watch the way his hands move, steady and careful, and wonder if he even realizes how gentle he becomes when he’s making art. You wonder if he knows how many times you’ve watched him like this and thought, I could stay in this moment forever.

When he finally sits back to let the client breathe, he stretches, rolling his neck before pulling his gloves off temporarily. He glances at you again, this time more deliberate, then gestures at his water bottle near your side of the room.

You raise it like a question, and he nods.

You bring it over, brushing past him quietly. His fingers graze yours as he takes the bottle, eyes lingering on your face for just a second too long.

“Thanks,” he says under his breath, low enough that only you can hear. Then, with a crooked grin, he adds, “You’re still staring.”

You lean in just a touch, voice soft. “Maybe you like it.”

His brow lifts, clearly not expecting the sass. A quiet chuckle leaves his lips as he takes a long sip of water, eyes still locked on yours.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You flush, lips twitching into a quiet smirk, and turn away before he sees too much of it.

But you know he already did.

The buzz of the machine dies down with a final click, and Jungkook leans back in his chair, surveying the finished piece with a small, satisfied smile.

“Take a look,” he says, handing the mirror to the client. “See if it sits right with you.”

The guy grins as he examines the tattoo, nodding immediately. “Man, this looks amazing. You killed it.”

Jungkook hums, modest as ever. “Glad you like it.”

They talk a little longer—aftercare instructions, a handshake, some final words of thanks—and then the door jingles shut behind him, leaving the studio a little quieter. Warmer. Still.

You’re sitting on the couch with your book half-forgotten in your lap, watching him.

He pulls off his gloves, tosses them into the bin, and lets out a low breath as he leans back against the counter, fingers running through his hair.

And then his eyes are on you again, no longer stealing glances. He’s looking at you now.

“You know,” he says, voice soft and teasing, “you made it really hard to concentrate.”

You close your book slowly, meeting his gaze. “I was just sitting.”

He huffs a small laugh and crosses the room, standing in front of where you sit. “Exactly. Just sitting. Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re the one who drew blood.”

You try to keep your face neutral, but the smile pulls at your lips anyway.

His hand finds the back of the couch behind you, and he leans in just a little, not quite close enough to touch, but enough that his presence wraps around you like a breath.

“You gonna admit it?” he murmurs. “You came in here to distract me.”

You look up at him, innocent. “Or maybe I just missed you.”

That pulls something softer from him. His teasing melts into affection as he lifts a hand to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Dangerous move,” he says, thumb lingering just at your cheekbone. “Coming in here looking like that, with coffee and that quiet little smile like you’re not doing anything.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you whisper, even as you lean into his touch.

He dips his head, pressing a slow, barely-there kiss to your temple.

“Sure,” he breathes against your skin. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You laugh quietly, and the sound makes him smile.

“I should clean up,” he says, pulling away just enough to glance at his station.

“You want help?”

“Nah,” he says, but then catches your hand before you can move too far. “Just stay close.”

You squeeze his fingers gently. “Always.”

He keeps your hand in his for a moment longer before finally letting go, rolling his shoulders as he heads back to the station. You watch him move. Gloves back on, his focus shifting like a switch has flipped, precise and methodical as he starts wiping down the chair and rearranging his tools.

You stand, stretching a little, then let your eyes wander to the low shelf near the wall. A messy pile of sketchbooks and scattered drafts sits there, some loose sheets curling at the edges like they’ve been flipped through one too many times.

Curious, you crouch down and start flipping gently through them. Most of it is the usual mix. Fine-line florals, detailed animals, ornamental pieces with haunting precision. But then, you pause.

One draft is simpler. Not as loud as the others, but it speaks to you in a way you can’t explain right away. Something about the shape. The weight of it. The meaning it could carry.

You stare at it for a long moment, your fingers resting on the edge of the page.

Behind you, the soft sound of gloves snapping off catches your attention, followed by the faint flick of a lighter.

You glance over your shoulder.

Jungkook’s standing by the open window, cigarette between his lips, one hand braced on the frame as the other rests in his pocket. The smoke curls around him in slow spirals, catching the amber light of late afternoon. His eyes are on you again, this time, curious.

“Found something?” he asks, voice a little rough around the edges.

You hesitate, then turn the sketch around to face him. “This one.”

He exhales slowly, the smoke trailing from the corner of his mouth. “You like it?”

You nod. “I don’t know why. It just… pulled at me.”

He studies you for a second. Not the drawing, you.

“That’s one I never finished. Didn’t feel right for anyone who came in. Maybe it was waiting.”

You blink at him. “Waiting?”

He shrugs a little, takes another drag, and says, “For you.”

Your breath catches. He says it so casually, but the weight of it presses somewhere deep in your chest. He flicks ash out the window and watches you with that quiet intensity that always makes you feel like he sees too much.

“I’ve never really thought about getting one,” you admit, still holding the drawing. “But this… I don’t know. Maybe.”

He walks toward you, smoke trailing behind him, and takes the page from your hand, studying it again like he’s seeing it with new eyes.

“If you ever want it,” he says, “you don’t have to ask.”

You smile softly. “You’d put it on me?”

“I’d be honored.”

He leans down, presses a light kiss to your hair, then pulls away with a grin. “But you better not cry when the needle hits.”

You scoff. “You literally made someone cry last week.”

“Yeah, but he was being dramatic.”

“You said he almost passed out.”

Jungkook smirks, tapping ash into the tray. “You wouldn’t. You’d take it like a badass.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He exhales the last bit of smoke, flicks the cigarette out, and turns back to you with that stupidly gorgeous grin.

“Only when you’re watching.”

You roll your eyes playfully, taking the sketch like it’s fragile from his hands. You sit back down on the edge of the couch, your fingers trace the lines again, this time with more intention, like you’re trying to picture them on skin instead of paper.

Jungkook watches you, now leaned against the armrest beside you, elbow propped as he turns his rings absentmindedly.

“Where would you put it?” you ask softly, without looking up.

He hums, thoughtful. “Somewhere quiet.”

You glance at him. “Quiet?”

“Yeah.” He shifts closer, reaching for the paper again. “Someplace soft. Just for you.”

He holds your gaze as he says it, and something about the way he does makes your skin warm.

You try to play it cool. “So… where?”

His eyes roam over you with that artist’s precision. He’s not undressing you, not really, just seeing. Like canvas. Like potential.

Then he taps the edge of the drawing. “Ribs,” he says. “Left side. Just beneath the bra line.”

You raise a brow, unsure. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

His grin is slow. “Yeah.”

You blink at him.

He laughs. “But it’s worth it. It’d sit so beautifully there.”

You hesitate, then stand slowly. He watches you with mild curiosity as you step toward the mirror on the far wall. There’s a stool nearby, and you nudge it gently toward him without a word.

He catches on quick, sitting down in front of you, holding the sketch in one hand.

Your fingers move to the hem of your shirt, and you lift it just enough, baring the side of your ribs, skin soft and warm in the golden afternoon light.

Jungkook’s eyes flick up to yours, slow, checking. Asking.

You nod once.

He leans in without a word, guiding the paper up to your skin. The edges brush against you lightly as he aligns it, pressing just enough for you to see where it would sit. Your breath hitches a little, not from the pressure, but from the closeness.

“Right here,” he murmurs. “Would follow your line when you breathe.”

You glance in the mirror. The sketch fits you. You can’t explain how, but it just does.

“I can make it smaller,” he offers. “Tuck it in more, if you want it hidden.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t want to hide it.”

He lifts his eyes to meet yours in the mirror, and for a second, neither of you says anything.

Then, with the paper still resting against your ribs, he shifts just slightly closer. His fingers, warm and calloused, brush your waist, holding you steady. He leans in, and presses a kiss just below your ribs, right where the sketch would sit.

The kiss is featherlight. Almost reverent.

And when he looks up at you, there’s nothing cocky about his expression, just that quiet kind of awe, like he can’t believe you’re his.

“This,” he says, voice low, “would look perfect on you.”

You don’t trust your voice to answer, so you just reach out and brush your fingers through his hair gently, smiling as your stomach flutters under his touch.

You’re still standing between his knees, the both of you reflected in the mirror. Him sitting back, relaxed, looking up at you like he’s already imagining the ink there. You, trying to stay calm while your heart flips over itself.

His voice breaks the quiet, low and teasing. “So? What do you think?”

You glance down at the paper still in his hand, then at your side in the mirror. The image lingers, ghosted over your ribs like it already belongs to you.

“I think…” You hesitate, lips curving. “I’ll think about it.”

Jungkook raises a brow, amused. “That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes either.”

“Mm,” he hums, grinning like he already knows the answer. “You’re gonna say yes.”

You roll your eyes and pull your shirt down, trying to hide the way your smile keeps growing. “Cocky.”

He stands slowly, tucks the sketch carefully onto the shelf like it’s already been claimed. “Confident.”

You bump your shoulder into him on the way past, and he catches your hand gently, giving it a soft squeeze. When you turn, he’s already looking at you again.

“I won’t rush you,” he says, quieter now. “But if you decide… I’ll make it special. Just for you.”

You meet his eyes, and for a second, you swear he’s more serious than you expected—less flirt, more something else.

You nod. “I know.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy, it’s warm, wrapped in a shared understanding, a feeling that lingers even as he picks up your empty coffee cup and you reach for your bag.

“Come on,” you say softly, tugging his sleeve. “Let’s go home.”

He follows you, steps falling in line with yours, hand brushing yours again as the door shuts behind you, sketch tucked safely away, and something unspoken left between your ribs, just waiting.

The bookstore is quiet in the way you love most. Soft jazz humming from the old speakers, the gentle clink of mugs from the corner where two regulars sip their usuals, and the warm scent of espresso and cinnamon lingering in the air.

You’re behind the counter, sorting through a new stack of poetry books, but your hands have slowed. Your thoughts keep drifting, pulling you away from the paper and ink, back to yesterday. Back to his voice, his hands, the way the sketch looked resting against your ribs like it already belonged there.

A quiet chirp pulls you from your thoughts.

You glance down to find your cat stretching lazily beside the register, tail flicking as she stares up at you with disinterest, like she knows you’re daydreaming and mildly disapproves.

You smile softly, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. “You think I’m crazy for even considering it, huh?”

She blinks slowly. No judgment, just feline silence.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. You’d taken a photo of the sketch when Jungkook wasn’t looking, just in case.

Tapping it open, you hold the image up, studying it in the morning light. The lines are delicate but intentional. Every curve has meaning. It’s you, somehow, though you’re still not sure how he saw it so clearly.

Your fingers brush absently over the side of your ribs, over fabric and skin, feeling the ghost of his touch, the memory of that kiss.

You’d said you’d think about it.

And you have been. More than you meant to.

You tuck your phone away when a customer approaches, offering them a polite smile and ringing up their coffee. But even after they leave, your mind doesn’t return to inventory or restocks or emails.

It lingers in his studio. In the warmth of his fingers. In the way he said, “Just for you.”

The bell over the shop door jingles softly as you turn the sign to Closed. The street outside is tinted in that golden-orange haze of early evening, long shadows stretching across the sidewalk. You lock up, shoulders sagging from the long day, but it’s the good kind of tired. The kind that feels earned.

Your phone buzzes just as you’re slipping it into your coat pocket.

+1 heart (koo) ♡ [6:34 PM]:

omw home. today was insane.

but i missed you.

You smile, cheeks warming.

You [6:35 PM]:

hurry up and i’ll make it worth it.

His reply comes in immediately.

+1 heart (koo) ♡ [6:35 PM]:

say less.

By the time he walks through the apartment door, dusk has spilled across the walls, casting everything in a soft lavender glow. He kicks off his boots with a groan, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders.

“You look like you’ve been carrying the world,” you say, stepping out from the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand.

“I have, babe,” he mutters, taking the glass and leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Two walk-ins, both huge pieces. My back is begging for mercy.”

You smile, brushing the hair from his forehead as he drinks. “Good thing I’m feeling generous tonight.”

You’re both in the living room not long after, his t-shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. He’s lying across the couch, head propped up by a pillow, eyes closed while you straddle his thighs, hands moving slowly across his bare shoulders and down his spine.

He sighs under your touch, melting into it.

“God, you’ve got magic fingers,” he mumbles. “Might propose right here.”

You laugh softly, leaning down to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your fingers keep working, and the silence between you stretches sweet and comfortable. Your cat hops onto the back of the couch, curling up behind Jungkook’s head like a soft guardian. He lets out a sleepy laugh at the tiny paws brushing his hair.

And then, in the quiet, just when his body is soft and his breathing steady, you say it.

“I’ve decided,” you murmur, fingertips slowing over his ribs. “I want to do it.”

He shifts slightly, eyes opening, voice quiet. “The tattoo?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“I want your art on me,” you say, softer now. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. And yesterday. And… I think I knew the second you placed it there.”

He sits up a little, turning so he can look at you fully. His eyes warm, curious, like he’s trying to read something in your face.

“You sure?”

“I am.”

He studies you for a moment longer. Then, his hand reaches out—fingertips ghosting over your side, right where the sketch would go.

He smiles. “Okay. We’ll do it.”

You blink. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he repeats, and then leans in to kiss you. Soft, slow, full of something that feels an awful lot like forever.

You’ve always loved the quiet of his studio, but tonight, it’s different. Jungkook closed the day early, just for you. He didn’t need to say anything, but the way he set everything up, making sure you felt comfortable and relaxed, told you everything you needed to know.

The dim light of the studio feels warm, soft against your skin. You can hear Jungkook’s movements as he preps everything around you. His calmness is contagious, and you feel your nerves slowly start to melt away.

You’re sitting on the padded table minutes later, shirt lifted just enough for him to reach your ribs. The cool air touches your skin, goosebumps blooming across your side, but his hand is steady and warm as he places the stencil.

You glance at the mirror across from you. The design is simple, clean, but holds everything you’ve never said out loud.

A butterfly with ink-stained wings resting on an open page. A soft-line drawing of a butterfly perched delicately on the corner of a slightly open book. The butterfly’s wings are detailed, and at the tips, there are small splashes of black ink, like she flew too close to the story, and it left its mark. One page of the book flutters like a wing, echoing hers.

Your chest aches with how right it feels.

He looks up at you, waiting for a nod. “Still good?”

You nod, exhaling softly. “Still good.”

He leans in, presses a slow kiss just beneath your ribs. “Then let’s do this, baby.”

You can feel the slightest tremor in your body as he preps the needle, the soft buzzing of the machine filling the space. But then his hand finds yours, warm and steady, and your heart skips.

“I’m right here,” he reassures you, his voice calm and grounding. “Just focus on me. It’ll be fine.”

His hands are gentle, guiding the needle over your skin. You feel the coolness of the ink first, then the steady hum of the machine, and the sharp sting that follows.

Your thoughts drift, lulled by the rhythm of his breath, the steadiness of his hand, the warmth of being so close to him like this. You can’t help but watch him, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted.

When the tattoo is finished, he pulls back gently, wiping the area with a soft cloth. His fingers trace over the ink, his touch tender, like he’s making sure it’s real.

“Done,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, just for you.

You take a deep breath, your eyes tracing the delicate butterfly now inked into your skin. It feels like a piece of you now, something so deeply personal that you can’t help but be moved.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, your voice a little shaky, but filled with truth.

He smiles. “I’m glad you like it. It’s you, in every way.”

He cleans the area one last time, fingers brushing gently over your side before he sets everything aside. The hum of the machine fades, but the warmth he left behind lingers, echoing in the space between you.

You stay seated on the padded table, your body still catching up to everything you’re feeling. Tender, buzzing, filled with something soft and new.

Jungkook steps closer, settling between your legs without hesitation, hands resting on your thighs. His thumbs draw slow circles over the fabric of your jeans, and when he looks up at you, there’s nothing but affection in his eyes.

“You already know this,” he starts, voice low, “but I’m still saying it.”

You smile, the corners of your lips pulling up. “Of course you are.”

“No touching it too much,” he says, grinning a little. “Keep it clean, moisturized. No sun, no baths. Just showers. And text me if anything feels weird, though you’ll probably be sleeping next to me when you do.”

You laugh softly, your fingers brushing through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “I’ve heard you give that speech like a hundred times.”

“Still had to say it.” He leans in, resting his head lightly against your chest, his arms wrapping around your waist. “This one’s different.”

Your breath hitches. It is. It’s you.

He pulls back, hands still framing your thighs. His eyes flick up to yours, quiet for a moment, gaze unreadable in that way that always makes your heart ache.

And then you lean in, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. Slow, soft, like a thank you. Like a promise.

He hums into the kiss, hands gripping your thighs just a little tighter as he tilts his head to deepen it. It’s not rushed. There’s no urgency in it. Just the warmth of the moment, the comfort of his body close to yours, and the new piece of you inked into your skin.

When you finally pull away, his eyes stay closed for a second too long. Like he’s memorizing the way you taste.

Then, he looks at you—really looks—and his voice drops, low and honest.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity, by the way his gaze traces your face like he’s trying to memorize every inch.

“Not just the tattoo,” he adds, one hand drifting to your side again, just above the ink. “You. Sitting here, all mine.”

Your heart stutters. He doesn’t say it for effect, doesn’t say it to get a reaction. He says it like it’s the simplest truth he knows.

And suddenly, the studio feels too quiet, too still. Like the world’s holding its breath just for the two of you.

“Then keep me,” you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He smiles, slow and sure, fingers still resting gently on your thigh.

“Always.”

It’s one of those rare, quiet days when neither of you has anywhere to be.

It’s a quiet night, the kind that feels like it belongs only to the two of you. The windows are cracked just enough to let in a breeze, rustling the curtains, carrying the distant hum of the city. Everything else is still.

You’re both in bed, the covers pulled loosely over your legs. A movie plays quietly in the background, something neither of you is really paying attention to. His arm is curled around your waist, fingers brushing up and down your side in that lazy rhythm he always falls into when he’s relaxed.

Your cat is curled up by your feet, purring faintly, and Jungkook looks like he was made to exist in this room, in this moment. His free arm is tucked behind his head, eyes half-lidded but awake, just enjoying the feel of you curled against him.

“Is it weird that I like days like this more than anything else?” you murmur, your voice muffled against his skin.

He hums, a low, sleepy sound. “Not weird at all. I think I’d choose this over anything, honestly.”

You lift your head slightly to look at him. His hair is a little messy, falling into his eyes, and there’s a softness to his face that’s only ever there when he’s completely relaxed. He looks at you like you’ve just told him his favorite secret.

“You’re warm,” he says with a small grin, brushing his fingers along the side of your face. “Like… you could replace my heater. I’d save so much money.”

You let out a quiet laugh, then playfully pinch his side. “Maybe I’ll start charging you.”

His grin widens. “Nah, you like me too much to do that.”

You shake your head, hiding your smile against his chest again.

His thumb moves gently against your skin, right over the tattoo he gave you days ago. You know he’s not thinking about it, not consciously, but the way his fingers always seem to find it, it’s like his hands remember what they made.

“You make me feel so safe,” you whisper.

Jungkook tilts his head, eyes soft. “You make me feel still.”

There’s a silence after that, but it isn’t empty. It’s full of everything neither of you needs to say out loud anymore.

Eventually, he shifts a little, tugs you closer until your leg is tangled over his. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear.

“Let’s stay like this forever,” you murmur.

He kisses the top of your head, one of those slow, breathless kisses like he’s trying to press the moment into time. “Forever sounds good to me.”

The screen fades to black as the movie ends, and neither of you moves to change it.

Outside, the world keeps turning. But in here, it’s quiet. Warm. Safe.

And maybe love isn’t always loud. Maybe it lives in quiet rooms and half-whispered words, in shared glances across familiar spaces. Maybe it’s in the way he breathes beside you, the way your cat purrs between you, the way your bodies tangle without trying. Maybe love is this, a stillness that doesn’t ask to be anything more, because it already is everything.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #oneshot #jungkook oneshot #fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #jungkook bts #tattoos #books #catlover #romance #nikixkoo

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todorokies · 1 year ago

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cherry blossoms, tarot cards & chamomile - suguru geto

contents: sfw, fluff, meet-cute at book store, fem!reader, strangers to potential lovers, mentions of curses & whatnot, tarot cards reading,, 1.5k words.

a/n: this one goes out to the hopeless romantics who wanna fall in love in a bookstore aka me (we hear & see you)

spring has sprung as one would say. the pale snow that covered the ground has melted away, which in turn allows the freshly cut grass to flourish.

cherry blossoms had recently littered the streets alongside the sidewalks, with each petal engaging in a unique twirl that fluttered like a dragonfly before angelically collapsing on the concrete.

with spring came along new missions suguru would have to endure either by himself or with his trusted friend —and nuisance— satoru. as curse energy that once accumulated during the toughest season gets released during the warmer seasons.

today was different however, the pair had been sent into town to retrieve a relic from the past of jujutsu history; a two thousand year old book that slipped out of the archives and has been rumoured to be contained in a bookstore hidden in the nooks of jimbocho.

“the warm breeze outside might fix the low oxygen levels in your heads.” yaga sarcastically reasons when satoru made his complaints about the origins of the mission known.

the raven haired sorcerer reprimanded his tone but expressed his concerns in a more diligent manner. anyone with half a brain would know it would take many decades to successfully pawn through each and every bookshop in the jimbocho district for a specific book, that neither of them even have the slightest clue as of what it looks like.

nonetheless, they were shooed off campus with a pat on the back and a simple: “you’ll know it when you see it—or rather feel it.”

suguru now navigated through the busy streets alone, —his white haired companion taking off a few hours ago on his own journey— with both hands in his pockets taking in the simplicities of life that surrounded him while keeping his eyes sharp for any unusual curse energy.

each corner he’d turn the storefronts would be filled with colourful book spines neatly lined adjacent to one another. the harsh sound of crimped sandpaper occasionally made its presence known when a costomer would flip through the pages.

a bitter earthly aroma tangoed with the wind. one would simply scrunch their nose up and turn the other way but for suguru, the olden smell of books filled him with comfort.

elderly couples hand in hand, a few children accompanied by their parents, and the complementary store cats that would linger in the isles or be found curled up on a random stack of books.

after roaming about and checking a few stores for their recent inventory stock, suguru oddly felt inclined towards a particular store that was larger than the others.

he enters, a ring of a bell from above signals his arrival. immediately, the smell of different assortments of tea wafts in and lingers in his nose.

a café combined with a bookstore…that’s definitely convenient. he eyes the ‘ring for assistance’ bell that rest apon the main counter, he lightly scoffs before ringing it.

“how many times do i have to tell your ass, no, you can’t conduct a séance he—” you round the tight, abelit, breathable corner to face the person it seems you weren’t expecting. you slightly jump back in a frightened manner then regain your composure, or more so, your customer service demeanour.

“my apologies! business is slow today and i thought a rather persistent costomer had came back. do you need help with a book or would you like to order something?” you enunciate your words with care, trying to not let any vocal cracks slip as you fiddle with your colourful apron which is a rather stark contrast from your all black work uniform.

suguru would pride himself as goal oriented man. the kind demands of asking to take a look at your recent stocks to see if the cursed book has fallen onto your shelves nearly wavers past his lips but the faint smell of his favourite tea clouds his better judgement.

“yes, i’d take chamomile tea with honey please.”

“coming right up!” you popped the ‘p’, scurrying off into the back to prepare his choice of beverage. alone with his thoughts again, suguru observed his surroundings with more caution.

the store has a whimsical charm to it. different array of ambiance lighting scattered throughout the establishment, vintage burgundy rugs made an appearance here and there, a few wooden chairs cushioned by velvet and a long couch that looks as if it has been passed down through many generations.

a sturdy coffee table in the middle and of course, the probably hundreds of thousands books neatly tucked in the shelves.

he wonders if you run this big place by yourself, must be a hassle if you do. he also wonders why a séance was mentioned by you in an irritated tone. maybe it could connect to his current mission? he plans on subtly bringing the topic up.

“one chamomile with honey!” you cheerfully announce handing over his mug. you don’t miss the way your heart skips a few beats when your fingers accidentally brush against his.

suguru nods his head to express his thanks. while digging for his wallet he brings up what’s been on his mind, “what was that séance you were talking about before?” he lightheartedly inquires.

you cautiously look over your shoulders and nibble on your bottom lip, as if you were scared someone might hear, “nothing too serious i suppose. these past few days business has plummeted cause there’s been talk about how this place is haunted.”

a small beat passes.

“which it isn’t by the way! just some silly stuff kids say when they wanna get under uncle daichi’s skin,” you grimace.

you then go on a bit of a tangent about how the alleged “hauntings” started a few weeks ago, just about the same time you gotten a new inventory restock. books would fly off shelves, unnerving whispers can be heard, lights would flicker and the atmosphere would turn unsettling.

suguru is unfazed yet intrigued by this, he calmly listens as his sharp eyes never leaves your face. he notices how animated your expressions are when retelling the events; you talk heartily with your hands as well as your voice that creates a certain bass to match your feelings.

he hums as he takes a slip from his mug, “can you show me the known hotspot for these hauntings?” you nod eagerly and swiftly move from your spot at the front desk to the back of the store.

yaga wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be able to feel the cursed book, as the cursed energy in the air multiples a tenfold when they step into the secluded part of the store the lighting couldn’t reach. he wonders how a cursed object this powerful was able to conceal itself from being spotted for so long.

suguru plucks the hefty grimoire off the shelf, small dust particles flying in its wake, “i’d like to purchase this one.” you look at him as if he grew an extra pair of eyes, but quickly shrug off any confusion and lead him back to the front of the store to cash him out.

as you progress his payment you feel conflicted about letting this particular stranger go so soon. holding him up for a few minutes couldn’t hurt, right?

“uhh.. wait, with each purchase a tarot card reading is offered free of charge. would you like to know what the future potentially has in store for you?”

suguru presses his lips in a thin line and sighs. he doesn’t have time for this and doesn’t believe in cards beholding a hidden future, however he is a sorcerer and just bought a book that would be a danger to society if not soon contained. raining on other peoples parade simply isn’t his forte.

he softly smiles with his eyes turning into crescent moons, “hit me.”

you try to conceal your excitement as you bring out a deck bound together by a rubber band. you start shuffling until four different cards slip out of the deck.

death, judegment, eight of cups, and the lovers.

“intresting…don’t be too alarmed by the death card, it could indicate the decay of a friendship that doesn’t hinder towards your beliefs or an troublesome habit finally coming to an end.”

you continue, “judement and eight of cups go hand in hand as your new calls for action may put certain things into perspective for you, as this chosen path may lead to dissatisfaction.”

“and finally, the lovers card is the nice light at the end of the tunnel. someone you can confine in and pour your heart out to; tarot cards can be interpreted in millions of ways so, take what i say with a grain of salt.” you smile as you put the cards away to bid the stranger farewell.

suguru stares astonished absorbing this information, you’re good. he’ll give you that. “well..thanks for the reading and the tea, have a great day.”

and just like that, he turns his back to leave until he stops just in front of the door. “oh, and i can assure you the ‘hauntings’ should come to an end now.” he smirks and waves you goodbye.

you smile until he fully leaves which is when the realization hits that you didn’t even get the chance to get his name, you frown and groan into your palms.

maybe he’ll swing by again…hopefully.

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

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embersofnovember · 8 months ago

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WATERCOLOUR EYES

modern!bookshop!au

summary : you work at a bookstore. anakin doesn't actually read.

warnings : idiots in love, tooth rotting fluff, probably grammar mistakes, (mentioned) padme amidala, cheesy romantic stuff

wc : 3162

the first time anakin sees you, you’re stocking up books in the educational studies section.

it’s been a relatively slow day. not many people enter this bookshop anyway, but when they do, the day seems to go just that bit faster, which is why when anakin sees you for the second time ever, you’re mindlessly flicking through a book in the window of the shop behind the counter, and that is when anakin knows.

but when you see— notice anakin for the first time, you see an older man with him. stubble, grey hair at his temples and a tired expression on his face. anakin’s leaning against a bookcase that coincidentally faces your direction as the other man peers at all of the books in the historical section, fingers tracing over the spines delicately, and every time you do what’s a weak attempt at stealing a small glance at the boy, you catches him looking back at you. every time.

the first time you ever spoke to each other was on a rainy wednesday. the sun peering through the window offered nothing but fogging condensation instead of the sun that baked your skin almost every day. the hours were long, but you got to read, and if you could do that, you were fine.

the door swings open, gold letters glistening in the warm light of the lamp posts outside as the sky begins to grow darker.

you look up, exchange a smile with the same man from before, who you learnt last week that his name’s obi-wan. the boy trails in behind him and you almost freeze.

almost.

his hair is damp due to the misty rain outside, his hands coming up to adjust his brown coat slightly with slight annoyance. you’ve seen him countless times, but the funny feeling in your chest never eased, and you still didn’t even know his name.

the two of them are in the bookshop for around fifteen minutes before obi-wan is at the counter with two books held in his hand: the conspiracies of geonosis and the swamps of dagobah. you put down her own copy of a random fiction book she found on the weekend and scans the two of them, trying her best to ignore the realisation dawning in your brain that the boy isn’t with him when he was mere minutes ago. you two exchange a quiet, light conversation. it’s easy. For obi-wan, at least. it seems so easy for obi-wan to talk and you envy it. his voice was clear and british, almost bostonian. by the end of his well-spoken voice, you’d almost forgotten about the boy and you’ve gone back to a book of your own after obi-wan’s left.

truth is, anakin’s been hiding in the thriller section trying to build up the guts to go and talk to you for ten, long and agonising minutes. maybe that’s why he didn’t leave with obi-wan.

without thinking, he grabs a book from a bookcase, not caring to glance at the title as he works up enough courage to finally talk to you, and he accidentally slams the book onto the counter.

a muscle in your arm twitches. you look up, as if you were a deer caught in headlights. his eyes are spilling like watercolours.

and anakin’s heart almost gives out.

he didn’t know what it was about you. just how you always seem so entranced in a book when you pick it up and flip the pages, or the way your hair sometimes glistens a sandy colour in the sun.

“sorry,” he murmurs, flashing you what he hopes to look like a polite smile.

“it’s okay,” you mutter back, and you smile. dimples.

anakin doesn’t know how much longer he can stay composed without looking like an idiot.

“did you find everything alright, sir?” you ask quietly, taking the book from anakin’s slightly shaking hands. anakin doesn’t know what he’ll reply with, so he takes the safe way out and nods instead. you scan the book, turn it around to read the title with a face twisted in interest.

“tales of the force and where to find them?” you raise an eyebrow. not of confusion, but anakin thinks so, and he feels the blood rush to the skin of his face and he wishes he didn’t wake up this morning. he nods again with a smidge more confidence than before, tilting his head and acting like he didn’t just learn the title of the book with you.

“i’m anakin,” he says, but it’s awkward and thrown off balance, as if he was thrown out of a rhythm. ultimately, you recognise that feeling, so you don’t comment on it and your small smile only thickens. you probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway.

you shrug, trying not to glance at his eyes as you tell him your name. the rain outside grows heavier, bouncing off the pavements. obi-wan’s stood under a canopy with his hood over his head to shield himself, eyes darting around.

“that’ll be twenty dollars. cash or card?” you ask, handing the book back to him. your eyes meet again and anakin looks down at the carpet floor that strangely reminds him of his grandmother’s house, rummaging through the pocket in his jacket. he pulls out a crumpled twenty on the counter and nods, avoiding eye contact, too. part of him, a very large part of him, just wants to crawl into the floor and never return. he decides that he will never walk in this place ever again, and he clutches the book between his bicep and his chest, turning around and stalking out, and tripping over his own feet just before he gets to the door.

“have a good day.” you blurt out to him.

“you too!” anakin says back, a little delayed, humiliation burning his skin as he keeps his eyes trained on the space in front of him. He’s thinking of nothing but how relieved he is to get out as soon as possible. the door opens and closes with the ding of the bell at the top. you grin as you watch obi-Wan outside when anakin walks up to him, pestering him as they both turn around and walk side by side down the pavement, until she can see neither of them.

you can’t stop thinking about him until you fall asleep later that night, later than you normally do, and neither of you knew it, but anakin couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

the bell rings at the top of the bookshop. a shrill, honeyed sound in your ears. you find yourself glancing up with cartoonish eyes in hopes of seeing anakin again, heart stopping for a split second before you calm down again.

it’s a monday. a warm one, but you feel strangely serene. it’s been five days on the dot since you’ve seen both anakin and obi-wan, and they somehow only seem to be the only customers that treat you like an actual person. intimidation, filthy looks, lack of respect. yeah, it was the bare minimum, but it made you happy, and you didn’t care.

It’s tuesday when anakin comes in with obi-wan. in the morning as you drove to work, they announced on the radio that there would be a heatwave (much to your annoyance). working at a bookshop with little to no air conditioning was a nightmare, so there you were, sitting in a tank top with a thin flannel and shorts.

obi-wan walks in with a slightly irritated anakin behind him, who is wearing a white vest and cargo trousers, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes his skin glow. obi-wan seems unfazed by this weather. anakin learnt that he’s pretty much immune to the heat ever since they went on holiday to a place where the temperature was triple what it is here.

you immediately lose her composure, but you manage to recover quick enough for either of them to notice you sitting behind the counter, and when anakin does notice you, it seems that he relaxes. his gaze softens and he suddenly doesn’t look so tense. obi-wan almost seems perplexed with how suddenly his demeanour changes, but he quickly turns around and waves to you, which you return with a small smile.

it happens again: obi-wan buys a book, obi-wan leaves, and anakin doesn’t, but this time, when he goes up to the counter with yet another random book (that he made sure to check before grabbing it), he has more confidence than before.

as you take the book from his hand, your fingers brush up against each other. you fight the urge to draw your hand back, and anakin almost loses his confidence then, but he remains physically tranquil, but on the inside, he’s rethinking his every move.

“so,” anakin starts, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo trousers, “you work at a bookstore. you like reading?”

you glance up at him, brown hair glistening gold in the sun as you scan the book. you look back down at the book again, reading the title. a galactic empire of descending madness. that sounds more interesting than the one he had last week, at least.

“yeah, i guess,” you reply, even if a simple ‘yes’ was a severe understatement. every night, you went home and always had stacks of books still waiting to be read. “why do you ask?”

he throws down another crumpled up twenty on the counter again. this time, you give him change.

“well–” he pulls one arm over his chest, his other arm hooking over it as he stretches. you did your best not to gaze at his muscles, or his vest hiking up slightly and revealing the smallest slither of skin at his hip, but it’s hard—especially when he looks so attractive. “–i have a project to work on. for my University. need some help with it, ‘n’… i was just wondering if you'd help?”

you stare at him in surprise. eyebrows raised, and gnawing the inside of your cheek until you taste metal, you ask, “what’s it about?”

that’s the part of the plan he’s missing. before, he couldn’t figure it out, and now he does, and it’s right in front of him. he wets his bottom lip and grabs the book and the change. the pennies clink in his pocket and he feels like a nervous wreck all over again.

why is he so nervous?

“can i get back to you on that?” he asks, his voice still somehow smooth and even.

you breathe a small chuckle, “sure.”

and he leaves again.

this time, when anakin appears, it’s on a sunny friday, still amidst a heatwave, and obi-wan isn’t with him. you want to frown, but for some reason, you can’t.

it’s no different than the last time he was here, yet it feels so new. you smooth out the tank top your wearing nervously as he walks– rushes through the door.

he walks forward, taking a small condescending look at the display of books, picking up the first book he sees and walking over to the counter.

he isn’t pretending to buy something this time.

the loud thud echoes in your ears as he slams the book down on the counter. padmé, who’s stacking up books in the romantic-comedies section, jumps, stealing a startled look at the pair of you before turning back around.

“let me take you to dinner,” he blurts out. his voice sounds confident, but he’s albeit shaking with nerves and shuffling in one spot.

i’m a mess, he thinks to himself for a brief second.

in the miniscule silence that follows, you want to let the silence go a little longer just to fuck with him, but you're too eager, he’s too nervous, and the sun is watching with curiosity.

“sure,” you mumble, grabbing the notebook and a pen under the counter. you flick it open and scribble down your address and your number in writing that’s almost too hard to read as you have never been too patient when it comes to writing, but as you rip the page off and hand it to him, he smiles faintly at it. an achievement. your hands brush against each other again, but neither of you acknowledge it again. just like last time.

“pick you up at six,” he says, turns around, and he’s walking out the door before you can say anything else.

anakin ends up picking you up at six o’clock on the dot. not a minute late and not a minute early. however, he is sitting there for a minute or two, observing your house from the driver window.

the grass outside grows at all lengths with small weeds peeking from a few of the wooden fences dotted around, which has probably been hacked away since not much of the wood remains anymore. the plant pots hold large ferns, and the trees behind the house are large oaks, thick branches branching out and leaving half of the house in a shadow. it’s small, but it looks like a home. anakin’s about to smile, but then he sees you rush out in a haste, hair glowing in the setting sun, and he freezes in his seat. all of the thoughts in his head have buried themselves, and it’s just him and his thumping heart.

“sorry i’m late,” you mumble to him as you open the door and get in. the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek and his smile, which seems like the brightest in the world, but you don’t bother to comment on it and just smile back at him. “i was caught up in an assignment, lost track of time.”

anakin breathes a chuckle, and he nods, turning on the engine with the twist of his key in the ignition. he’s surprised you haven’t noticed his hands trembling yet. “don’t worry about it.”

you can’t help but smile again. the sun’s in his eyes and they flash a mix of blue and green. his hair is golden, and for a brief minute, you wonder what it’d be like to tangle your fingers in it. you have to force herself to look away and out the window.

you don’t go that far away from the city. off to the coast where there’s a van that sells drinks. it’s only around a twenty minute drive and you were both humming to the rock songs on the radio and talking about your week. the awkward atmosphere dissipates as the evening passes. anakin could listen to you talk for hours.

you both settled for a can of coke. of course, anakin was adamant in not letting you pay. with a firm shake of his head, he gave the man in the van a crumpled up five, and only laughed at your protests. after you finally gave in, and tried to hide your smile, you went off, walking aimlessly down a path in search of somewhere to sit.

the sun cast a glowing effect on the beach they sat in front of. the tide was out, and you listened to the leaves in the trees crinkle above.

you didn’t feel so nervous anymore.

you learn a lot about each other in the ten minutes they sit on the bench. you learn a lot of things. obi-wan’s anakin’s step-brother (who’s also a lot older than him), and he tutors at the university he goes to (which he takes the train for every other morning because it’s forty minutes away), and not only that, but he has a major in engineering. anakin learns that you're studying film in a university a couple blocks away and you have a ginger cat called oscar. he reads comics and you play piano and you develop nicknames for each other and you end up walking on the beach together not long after, the sea loud and erratic. anakin never liked the feeling of sand between his toes, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be in the presence of you for a little longer.

it’s like you’ve known each other for years.

“you know,” you start, taking a sip of anakin’s half-empty coke can. you finished yours a while ago, but anakin insisted you had some of his if you really wanted. it ’s like exchanging a secret and a kiss all at the same time . “i knew from the second you walked in the bookstore, you weren’t actually a reader.”

anakin almost winces at the memory, but a boyish grin appears on his face. “was it that obvious?”

you nod, grinning. you were always good at reading people anyway, but after you got a job at the bookstore, you somehow became even better at it. most people were dragged into the bookstore by their eager friends, bored expressions plastered on their faces, yet coincidentally, when anakin and obi-wan first walked in, neither of them seemed like that.

observant in the worst ways possible.

“i only went because obi-wan dragged me in there all the time,” he replies, trying to seem unfazed by the sudden redness to the tip of his ears.

and you both chuckle, but anakin knew that deep down, it was really anakin dragging obi-wan there instead, and you maybe knew it too.

“i could get used to this,” anakin murmurs. neither of you notice how close you are until suddenly, your hands brush up against each other.

your hands always seem to be cold, anakin thinks, but your fingers interlace and the words die on his tongue. you—not confident enough to say anything without your voice shaking–don’t respond, and you instead squeeze his hand lightly instead, resisting the urge to ghost your fingers over the bruise on his cheek.

and Anakin knows. you both know. anakin might as well write it in the sand, but further away from the shore so that it doesn’t wash away.

when anakin comes back just after the sky has gone dark after dropping you off, he walks into the kitchen to see obi-wan leaning against the counter with a mug of hot tea in his hand and a smirk on his face.

“so?” he says expectantly. anakin stops in the doorway, trying to ignore how tense his shoulders have become. crimson stains his face and he keeps his gaze trained on the floor.

“so what?”

obi-wan looks at him with knowing eyes, “how was it?”

anakin only shrugs him off, attempting (and failing miserably) to conceal his genuine grin. “shut up.”

obi-wan only chuckles, walking past him and ruffling his hair, to which anakin sends him a glare, but obi-wan remains unfazed as he walks out the kitchen.

“you’ve fallen!” obi-wan yells as he walks through the hallway. anakin instantly grows flustered and rolls his eyes.

“have not!”

but obi-wan is many things, and a liar is not one of them.

masterlist!!

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin x you #obi wan and anakin skywalker are siblings #bookshop!au #modern!au #fluff #star wars #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin

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minispidey · 1 year ago

Text

04: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist.

04. Breaking into a museum with Barbie!

warnings: breaking and entering??? none really.

note: italics are the boys in headspace talking ❤️

As usual, it was as if you and Steven were in sync: showering, preparing, and dressing up at the same time before walking towards your doors and opening them in unison.

"Steven!" you smiled brightly at him as you stepped out of your flat and locked it "Okay! I got our whole afternoon to dinner planned out. I made a list~"

"Alright." he laughs "What's first?"

You crumpled the paper and threw it behind you "Shopping." you grabbed his arm and pulled him into the elevator fast.

You drove to the nearest furniture shop and practically dragged Steven inside "Come on! You need a proper table. Just because it's doe-able doesn't mean it's good enough."

"I don't got the money, love."

"Who said you're paying?"

Steven was a moth to a flame. He loved the clear difference between you and him. You were this big ball of energy, a magnet pulling him in. You were a bit of a ditz, but you had an incredible job and lifestyle, and he was just a giftshopist.

Maybe he doesn't deserve you.

"Alright. No more self-sabotaging. Just enjoy your date." Marc said from the headspace, groaning.

"I'm trying." he mumbled. Steven watches you look at different dining tables, knocking and asking for other colors and types of wood.

"Gosh… I've always wanted one like that," he whispered to himself "A little too expensive, though. I could never ask you to–"

"Stevie, come on!" you giggled.

You went further into the back where there wasn't any staff and settled on an oak table "I think this is it!" you lifted yourself and sat on it, letting your slip-on heels fall with two clicks.

"Alright. It's-" Steven's eyes widened at the price "...pricey."

"It's my treat, Stevie. Consider it uh... a gift! To commemorate our date and many more to come, I hope?"

He blushes, nodding "Yeah! Of course." he sets his hand on the table, beside your thigh "Maybe, you know... dinner one of these nights? I'll cook you something."

"Smooth. Don't forget to breathe." Jake chuckled.

You started giggling "I can't say no to that. Totally! I didn't know you can cook."

"You can't." Marc sighs.

"Yeah, I can." Steven took his hand off the table and knelt in front of you taking your heels "What else do you have planned in that list of yours? Anything you wanna do's fine with me."

"Well, Vogue released an article for the top most romantic dates and one of them is at a museum! Which I would personally enjoy, but you already work there." you shrugged "How about we shop until my ankles bruise and top it off with dinner?"

"Woah there, love. Wouldn't want to ruin your shoes now, would you?" he joked as he slipped your heels on your feet.

"Gosh, you're so right! I should buy a new pair to replace these ones!"

It looked brand new to Steven which puzzled him for a second.

"Let's go pay— well, I'll pay— and I'll have it delivered tomorrow." you grab his hand and hop off the table, walking back to the front of the store and placing your credit card down "Put it in my card. We'll take the one in the back."

He watched you with a faint, incredulous smile as the cashier took the card and rang it up. You were a madwoman, a sweet, generous madwoman, and he was in love.

It wasn’t even that the table was expensive, though it was— it was that you’d do this for him that meant so much.

In fact… this wasn’t just his favorite date. It was one of his favorite moments he could remember.

What an enchanting woman you were.

The two of you stopped by a bookstore, dragging him inside. The comforting smell of the books relaxed you and you began to read the titles of the ones lined up on the shelves. One looked old and intrigued you. You took it out and smelled the pages, making Steven smile.

He wandered off on his own, spotting a couple of classic novels before stopping in front of the Egyptology area. Steven checks out a few books, skimming through the pages before the old shopkeep coughs and points at a no reading sign.

"Sorry." Steven closes the book before setting it down. You found him and took his hand, heading deeper into the shop "I wanna look for something."

"Something?"

"Classic. Also one of the reasons why I love romance."

"What's this mysterious book?" he chuckled.

"Pride and Prejudice." you smiled "A prideful shy arrogant man with bad social skills and a prejudiced independent young woman fall in love. The best enemies to lovers book to exist. But then again I didn't read it yet, I watched the movie and the series..."

"Really? Maybe I'll watch it some other day."

"Totally! So, Egyptian history books again?"

"Research. I donated off some of my books from the pile we made last week so I can get new ones. I promise I won't get more than five." he laughs, holding up three books he picked.

"Aw, good for you!"

You placed his purchased books into the back of your car and drove off with him "There were a couple'a Pride and Prejudice books back there. Why'd you didn't get one?"

"Well," you let out a sigh "I wanted to get like, the original one. As in, original release."

"Original release? When was it released?"

"Eighteen–thirteen I think."

Steven stops to think "Love, that book was published over two–hundred years ago."

"And?"

"I don't think you'd be-" he stops himself "Maybe you'll get lucky next time."

"I hope so!" you turn your head towards him "I've been wanting it for so long! Ever since I watched Kiera Knightley, I was never the same! That was love and I refuse to read Pride and Prejudice unless it's the original one."

Steven was worried when you took your eyes off the road and held on to the wheel "Careful!"

"Oops! Sorry~" you giggled as you turned your head back "We should go on a walk to the restaurant! Maybe just a few minutes away."

"We could." he nodded "I'm just worried about your shoes. Are you sure you want to walk on cobblestones in heels, love?"

"I'll be fine! It would be so romantic and-"

"-totes not amazing!" you whimpered while you sat down outside the restaurant and Steven was kneeling down to try and fix your heels.

You two finished eating your dinners and you were still mopey about your pretty pink heels "These were the cutest kitten heels I had and I forgot these were Tommy! It's so hard to find these."

"Sorry, love. I should've stopped you harder." Steven looked up at you.

"No, Stevie. It's fine. I'm the one who insisted on having a romantic walk." you sighed "Can you get the car?"

After a few minutes, he (Jake) managed to drive the car to the restaurant where you waited and he switched to Steven before getting out of the driver's seat. You got up before tripping down because of your broken heel.

"Love, are you alright?" Steven helps you up and slip off your heels.

"I'm okay..." you took your broken heels and opened the trunk of your car, tossing it in before taking out your emergency pink fluffy slippers.

You both entered the car and drove away. It was a quiet drive as you stared straight ahead with a frown, no sign of your usually happy and cheery self present.

Steven thought he ruined it. He should've helped you with the date but instead, he just laid back and let you do whatever. He felt bad. He shouldn't, but he did. Even Marc is trying to tell him the heel wasn't his fault.

"I'm sorry, Stevie... I just wanted to have a really romantic and nice night and my heels ruined it..." you broke the silence a minute later.

"It's alright, love. You don't need to apologize. I enjoyed it anyways. All I really wanted was to be by your side..."

Your eyes lit up and the car slows down in the empty road "Really?"

"We don't even need to go out with a grand plan. Honestly, dates aren't my thing and I'm not good at it. But the times we just hang around in my flat are romantic to me." he smiled at you "Home-cooked dinner, a movie, and you."

You smiled back at him and you realized that he was the perfect man for you. You didn't want to let him go.

"What was that article again— oh, top best dates, right? A museum. Do you still want to go?"

You checked the time "Are you sure it's still open? It's already 10:43..."

"It will be." Steven held up a keychain. You kept staring at the key and he knew you didn't get it "We're gonna break in— well, not break in. I have the key, so. Not breaking in. Besides, I work there."

"Oh my gosh, Stevie!" you cover your mouth, smiling "Isn't this like, totes illegal?"

"Not if we don't get caught."

"Who are you and what did you do to Steven?" Jake laughed from the headspace. Steven ignored his comment and looked at you in the eyes.

"You know what? We've been doing what I want this whole time. Let's do it!" you drove off quickly, excited because of the idea. Steven was happy to see you smile again, and he was sure about his idea.

You parked away from the museum itself and both of you snuck to the door, Steven opening the locks with his keys. He opened it a bit and let you in. He shuts the door immediately and the museum is dark, but it amazes you.

You could still see the artifacts with the moonlight peeking in through the windows. You walked around and smiled as Steven talked about some of the artifacts in the Egypt gallery "And you work at the gift shop? Gosh. You could be a tour guide or something..."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. Totes!" your voice echoed throughout the room "I mean, you should totally apply for it or something. Those books are paying off real well."

Before he knew it, hours passed and you sat in front of a statue, making you curious "Who's this?"

"That's a Caryatid. She was a pillar used to support a roof." Steven looks at it and sits next to you "Caryatid is Greek for maidens of Caryae. She's one of six maidens, the Caryatids of Erechtheion."

"Six?" you turn to him "Where's the other five?"

"Athens from what I remember."

"While she's the only one here in London?" you stared sadly at the statue again "That's so sad... she has sisters and she hasn't been with them for god knows how long... it's so sad..."

Steven looked at you and nodded "It is..." his heart was crushed after understanding what you meant. But it did make his heart skip a beat when you cared for a statue.

"You know, if I had to steal one and give it back, would want to give her back..." you whispered, touching the base with your hand.

After that night, you didn't see Steven for two weeks. You were worried but didn't want to overstep your boundaries.

Was your date really that bad?

You missed having to step outside and see his face every day. It made you a little depressed too. It was yet another morning without Steven's greetings and you picked up the newspaper from outside your door before walking to your bed and opening it up to read the latest news.

As you were about to take a sip of your morning drink, you dropped it by accident upon seeing the article.

The Homecoming Triumph: Athens Welcomes the 6th Caryatid Statue.

UP NEXT: what happened to steven in the last two weeks?!

tags: @red-hydra @monsterroonio @pastelpinkpilatesprincess @letmehavemyfictionalmen @uncle-eggy @superduckmilkshake @3zae-zae3

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant smut #moon knight system #x bimbo!reader #bimbo reader #x bimbo reader #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac

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neveragent · 8 days ago

Text

The pulled papers

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

Summary: The real reason why Rooster is angry about Maverick pulling his papers.

Warnings: none

Words: 1661 words

Notes: idk if I like this one...

Oh, and requests are open btw

Fact is, Bradley wasn't only mad because he couldn't go to the academy for four years and that it messed up his career but because the girl of his dreams started at the time, he should've started his training.

That's why he was never able to talk to her. He was only able to watch her from afar at the bar or at the grounds of the Navy.

They lived in two total different life realities and he didn't want to mess up her life like Maverick did his.

But he knew in a different universe, everything would've been different.

"What's your name?" He asked the beautiful woman in the chair in front of him. "None of your business," she sighted annoyed. In her eyes, he was the typical man who thought he could have every girl. "I am Bradley," he smiled, trying to brake the ice without making her feel uncomfortable.She turned around, eyeing his nameplate. "Bradley Bradshaw, seriously? I am sorry for you. Must've been a hell of a childhood." He laughed softly, happy that she was talking to him, even though it wasn't the nicest. "It was okay. My dad thought it would be funny." He glanced down at her nameplate. "Anderson..." "Yeah." "And your first name?" "Still, none of your business," she grinned. "Okay, sunshine," he laughed with a glimps of mischief in his eyes. He liked her. No, that was an understatement.

He was a fool for her.

"Sunshine," an aviator laughed when she entered the bar. It became her official callsign, much to her chagrin. She rolled her eyes, like she always did when she heard her callsign. Rooster still got her pissed off glaring for the nickname. He initiated it in the first place. He had started to call her like that, since she didn't tell him her first name and he knew that deep down, she was a nice and caring person. The others started calling her like that because they wanted to mock her for her bitter personality. "Hey, asshole," she answered the aviator. "Girls, no need to fight," Rooster interrupted them and stepped in between them. "Who knows, maybe I meant you," the girl scoffed and went straight to the bar. When she got her beer, he stood next to her. "C'mon, I know that you like me." "In first place, I hate you for giving me that callsign. In second place, I am disgusted by you being happy all the time. And maybe, but only maybe, I respect you in third place." He grinned. "See? Wasn't that hard, was it?" "I feel like throwing up because of my own words." He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Not in a romantic or flirting way but in a friendly way. "Respect doesn't mean that you're allowed to touch me!" She started shaking his arm off. "Right, sorry."

Some months later, he saw her in a bookstore. He watched her walking around. It's not like he wanted to but he was like hypnotised and wasn't able to get his eyes away from her. He wanted to go to her but he didn't want to disturb her peace by his presence. She seemed calm. Like a whole different person. He knew he was only falling harder for her in that moment. He was still standing outside, watching her though the window. She was reading the blurb of a novel and he saw her hesitating before she put it away again. She left the bookstore a few seconds later and he turned away from her, so she wouldn't notice him. Then he went inside and took the book, which she held in her hands before. It was a historic novel. Probably romance stuff.

In the evening, she went to her room and found a small bag on her bed. She opened it and found the book in it which she was looking at earlier that day. She was confused but happy at the same time. She didn't know who it was from and also not how the person came into her room, which was kind of scary. But she didn't think about it. She felt tears in her eyes when she realised that there was somebody who cared about her.

"Let me take you out," Bradley said one afternoon. They were sitting in a class room, waiting for their turn up in the sky. She turned her head away from the window to him. "A date?" "Yeah." He saw her confusion and hesitating. "Or just as friends. If you aren't interested in a date." "Ehm... I... I can't. I have plans." "I didn't say when." She rolled her eyes. "Just say it if you don't want to. It's fine." "It's fine? Why would you even want to go out with me when it doesn't matter to you if I say yes or no? Why wasting your time?" No, I meant you can say no and I'd respect it. I'd still be sad but I don't wanna pressure you into things." "I am mean to you all the time. Why would you like me." "Because I know that deep down, you're a softy, Luisa." Her smile faltered. "How do you know my first name?" "Research." "That's creepy." "I took a look into your file." She rolled her eyes again and turned back to the window. For some minutes there was silence. He was looking at her again. Her hair was in a bun, on her face where soft freckles and her eyes, they were glowing with life. She stood up and went to the door. "Tomorrow evening, 7 p.m. Be on time. I won't wait."

He was getting ready, when his phone rang. He was afraid that it would be Luisa to cancel their date. But it wasn't. It was Maverick. He picked up while staring at his dress shirts. "Hey, Mav." "Hey, Bradley. I'm just calling to let you know that I am at another deployment." "Oh, okay. Good to know. How long?" "Two to three months. Is everything alright? You sound stressed," he suddenly asked concerned. "Yeah, I am just going out in an hour and I don't know what to wear." "A date?" Maverick asked surprised. Bradley didn't talk much about his love life, normally. "Yes. How about a white dress shirt and jeans?" He asked. "Depends on where are you going." "Just to the bar, I think." "Then the outfit would be good. But then you also shouldn't wonder if she never talks to you again." Rooster stopped in his movements. "What the hell do you mean?" "C'mon, Rooster, the bar, seriously? The place you go to every night? It's nothing special. Besides, your whole crew will know about you and the woman. Is she also an aviator?" "Yes." "She would hate you after the date. Do you really wanna put her through the gossip?" Bradley swallowed. "Okay, what should I do?" "Dinner. And after that maybe a walk." "Great. Thanks. But still, what should I wear?"

Later, they sat together in a little Italian restaurant. After all, he chose black pants and a white dress shirt. The white summer dress she chose was the most beautiful thing he ever saw her in. They sat in the restaurant until it closed and then they walked around the city, not wanting the night to stop. Good thing was that they had no training the next day. It was around 3 a.m. when they came back to the base. They shared their first kiss in front of her door. Her lips tasted like cherry and she smelled like vanilla. Rooster's mind stopped working when he felt her soft lips on his. After some seconds his lips started to work on his jawline down to her throat. She opened the door behind her without stopping the kiss. He wanted to step in after her but she laid her hands on his chest. "No boys inside until the third date," she whispered. "But I am no boy. I am a man," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her again. She took a step back. "You know what I mean." He sighted frustrated. "Maybe you're right. I don't want you to regret anything." "It's not about regret. It's about protecting myself. I wanna be sure that you're not a fuckboy who will leave me after he got what he wanted." "I won't. I promise." She smiled softly. "Good night, Sun," he said when she was about to say something as well. He turned away and went to his own room. Before he could step inside, he felt a smaller hand in his. Before he could say something, he felt her sweet lips on his again.

After that night, they were totally in love with each other, which led to a marriage not long after. Maverick tried to stop him from that since they have been together for only some short months until that. But Bradley didn't listen. The ceremony wasn't big. Just with their clostest friends, Maverick and her parents. Her parents weren't a big fan of him. Even though they didn't even meet him before the wedding, which was probably the problem. Bradley amd Luisa were just so madly in love that nothing of that mattered to them.

They didn't regret it. Not even years later, when they were sitting on their porch, watching their grand children playing in the yard, while Dylan, their oldest son, was running after them. His wife, Laura, was sitting next to them. They had a barbecue earlier to celebrate their 40th anniversary. Luisa's head was on Bradley's shoulder. "I love you, Sunshine," Bradley whispered. She giggled softly. "I love you too, Rooster."

But that would never happen in their universe because Maverick pulled Rooster's papers and they were never able to go to the Navy at the same year. The only thing Rooster could do, was glacing at her now and then when he saw her.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #top gun fandom #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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lili-harg · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do a Megumi fic?? Where the duo (Yuji and nobara) trying to tease Megumi with reader's name! and it's just a heartwarming scene. Pls do it. Thank you! I love your writing.

hii, thank you for your request, I really liked it and sorry for the delay, I had a bit of a busy week and also infinite thanks for your words, I am very glad that you like my writing 🫶🏻💗

Don’t say her name

• Fushiguro Megumi x Reader

-Yuuji idiot you must be quiet!

-But I can't move Nobara!

The two young sorcerers were hiding behind a small bush ready to spy on their reserved black-haired friend.

But before continuing let's see how all this started.

Lately Nobara and Yuuji had noticed their partner a little distracted, out of his mind, something that was not at all common for Megumi. So one afternoon Nobara decides to tell the pink-haired man about her suspicions.

-"Yuuji, have you noticed that Fushiguro is more... I don't know, distracted." She says smiling, eager to comment on her suspicion

- "Umm now that I think about it, maybe I noticed he wasn't as irritated as normally" says the pink haired man in a carefree manner - "Why do you ask?"

Nobara gives a disappointed sigh, as she clearly didn't hear the answer she wanted to hear. -"Don't you realize Itadori!!!, it's very obvious, Fushiguro is in love" she says with a big suspicious smile

- "In love? Do you think?" he says doubtfully.

-"Well, of course, that's why he's so distracted and so happy, what else could it be. Men are so easy to decipher" Nobara says the last part between murmurs.

- "There's only one way to check it," says the pink-haired man, standing up much more excited than he was a few minutes before.

Nobara gives him a knowing smile and explains to Itadori her plan to find out.

And that's how we got to the current situation, after watching Megumi write on her phone with a small grimace (which could be taken as a smile) they decided that they would follow him to wherever their "date" was.

So after following him, and passing by one or another store, they arrive at the moment where Nobara verifies her theory.

While the young people were hiding in that small bush, the sorceress said to her friend.

-"I knew it!! He's heading to the flower shop, without a doubt Fushiguro is a romantic. She says proudly for successfully proving her theory.

-"In fact I don't think he's heading there" Itadori says in a whisper while pointing at his partner.

Clearly As Yuuji said, the young black-haired sorcerer had continued past the flower shop entering a bookstore? Nobara's face was shocked.

-"It's not possible, let's follow him more closely, I'm never wrong." The young sorceress says firmly, while she brushes off the leaves of her uniform and drags Itadori towards the bookstore where his friend had entered.

Then, in the most stealthy way they could find, they began to follow the black-haired man. They moved behind him, looking at everyone. the books he was looking at, without finding any answer.

-"Maybe he's looking for a book to give her instead of a rose" says Yuuji

-"That's a good point, it would also prove my theory, now we just have to figure out which book he chooses and for whom. is" says Nobara, very immersed in her role as a spy.

This is how they chase him to the Manga section where they see him take one after inspecting it with his phone, determined to buy it. Anxiously, the two sorcerers pick up the manga after Megumi walks away and can see that it was the new volume of a comedy manga called "The Disastrous Life of Kusuo Saiki".

-"Wait a moment..." Nobara says remembering something "This is the manga that Y/n said she wanted last week" now smiling she has the proof that was the last piece to confirm her theory "Are you thinking what I'm thinking Itadori" she says while looking at the pink haired boy who nods at him with a knowing look.

-"FUSHIGURO IS IN LOVE WITH Y/N" they say excitedly in unison, without noticing that they would attract the attention of a certain sorcerer who, upon recognizing those annoying screams, would know who the owners were.

A very upset Megumi, after paying for her purchase, drags her classmates out of the bookstore (where they had actually been kicked out for their behavior) and tells them with annoyance.

-"What the hell were they doing in there!!?"

-"Or don't act mysterious, we already discovered your secret" says the young sorceress with a big smile.

-"You can't keep it to yourself anymore Fushiguro, if you liked Y/n you would have to tell us, we are your friends" says Itadori

Megumi says when hearing Y/n's name in love in the same sentence, I can't hide the blush on her cheeks and ears.

-"What, what are they saying" he says annoyed while turning his face

-"Ohh come on we already know, no one loves that manga more than Y/n" says Nobara pointing to the small bag that Megumi was carrying.

When the black-haired man analyzes the situation, he manages to realize that they had been following him all this time, so he internally curses how intrusive his companions were and, exhausted, he sighs and confesses (in a very short way) the feelings he has for his recently named partner Y/n.

Nobara and Itadori high-five after having successfully proven their theory and decide to help their friend confess his feelings for Y/n, although he refused and insisted that he did not need help.

And that's how on a beautiful afternoon Megumi hands over the book, and she also hands over her chosen gift for the black-haired boy as they had planned a few days ago on the phone, but what Y/n didn't know is that inside the book there was a letter where the sorcerer confessed his feelings. And so it was that on that same Autumn afternoon the two young lovers shared their first kiss.

And from some distant bush two hands high-fived again for the success of their plan.

#jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #itadori x reader #jjk #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #jjk geto #itadori fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu megumi

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riddles-n-games · 1 year ago

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So, I wanted to make this as an appreciation post for the fandom. Looking at all the reveals we've gotten in the last few days and seeing how much the world of TIG has expanded so quickly, I've been getting a bit nostalgic.

When I joined this fandom, it was August of 2022, barely a month out from the release date of The Final Gambit, the finale of The Inheritance Games. I found out about TIG at a random bookstore on a road trip and I had immediate interest (the hot tub scene sold me so quick). I was also still somewhat new to Tumblr back then but I wanted to see what the hype was here.

Back then, we were still in the Averyjameson vs Averygrayson era even though I'd say things were cooling down a bit. But, that's not my point. The community was getting ready for this; there were chapter reveals, theories, and oh, it was awesome. I was so happy to be part of it. And some of the people who made it a lively place back then are still here, but unfortunately, some have gone quiet. @averysjameson, @guppyclato, @lesbianator3000, @margolovescoffeeandbooks, and @cherryschaos, thank you for making my days back then. I know you may have moved on, but I thank you for the contribution you made at the time.

The only thing I will not miss is the toxicity that Averyjameson and Averygrayson fans plagued this fandom with and divided us so much. We had a lot back then to still savor, why did we have to do that to sour the tag when this series had so much more to offer than just the romantic subplot? There was a mystery at large and so many other characters to love. We only seemed to agree on hating Emily and the old man. Moving on, let's never do that again and if there is another love triangle, let's try being more mature about it. I know we can. If Gray, Avery, and Jamie moved on, so can we.

When we were told of The Brothers Hawthorne back in October 2022 and given those first chapters for the new book, I was over the moon. We were going to finally see the POVs of two favorites; Grayson and Jameson. I was so excited to see from Jamie's perspective, to get a mystery set in London and for him to solve it with Avery; it was an Averyjameson dream. However, come the actual release of the book and I was honestly so disappointed. I'm not sure why it didn't hit the levels it should have but I already said my piece on that and while I still have some disdain for that story, I look fondly at the parts I did love. And funny enough, I told myself Grayson's story will just have to do only because I was feeling sour over Jameson's plot. But low and behold, I loved it! It was deep, funny, interesting, and held my attention as if I was in TIG all over again and it hit more high notes than Jameson's. I may attribute that to the familial connections we see displayed there but it felt more rewarding and even if JLB still had more for Grayson's development, that didn't mean Jameson had to suffer for it. However, I'm hoping that this story here was a fluke and I'm putting my best foot forward in believing that maybe reading Averyjameson through Avery's POV again in Games Untold will give back that familiar feeling I've been missing for two years. I never said I wouldn't try again.

Now, we've entered a new era and this is a third for me; The Grandest Game and Games Untold. During this period, I met @hathorneheiress, my fanfic bestie, and a lot of my current supporters have been with me since TBH. I thank you very much for sticking with me by liking, reblogging, and commenting on my posts. You make my day in the same way I assume my content makes yours. I haven't said that enough and I don't think it will ever be. I'm happy that we're all still here now and going into this new unknown with our theories, headcanons, new characters, and plots. I'm sure it will be a blast. Thank you for giving me that feeling again these last few days; it felt like being with Avery and the gang, running through the House, finding another clue, waiting in anticipation what it reveals.

I hope that this next series is everything we hope for it to be, a new start for Gray, a chance to bond with the new characters we met in The Brothers Hawthorne, and an opportunity to make it feel like the hay days of the first book. I hope that Games Untold lets us relish that feeling with the original cast, to relive the good old days, to meet up with some old friends we haven't seen in a while, and to have that final hurrah that leaves us on the highest of highs in the best way possible. Maybe it'll make it easier to say goodbye to the ways it used to be and embrace the new storytellers but of course, with the way JLB leaves us hanging with every story she gives, who is to say that'll be it?

Thank you to everyone who makes theories, headcanons, fanfics, fanart, and so many other things that leave us wanting more. Thank you to everyone who showers that content with support in the form of likes, comments, and reblogs. Thank you to everyone who has been here from the beginning, in the middle, and now. You all made this a special place. Thank you to everyone who made this community that way and continue to do so every day. I'm happy to be a small part of that. See you in the next post.

-Mystery Girl's Red String

#appreciation post #tig fandom appreciation #tig fandom #tumblr journey #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #games untold #tig #thl #tfg #tbh #tgg #gu #tig headquarters #TIG HQ

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nabipumpum · 1 month ago

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Hanni never believed in spontaneous romances—until she met you. Hanni realizes that this time, and for the first time, she doesn't want to run away.

9. Repeat that

Previous | Masterlist | Next

After the date at the bookstore, Hanni came home with a problem.

A problem called Danielle and Minji.

As soon as she entered the apartment, the two were on the couch, staring at her like two detectives waiting for a confession.

Hanni sighed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re smiling too much.” Minji snapped, narrowing her eyes. “Then spill it.”

Danielle clapped her hands excitedly. "How was the date? Was it better than the second one? Was it more romantic? Did she hold your hand? Wait… DID SHE KISSED YOU AGAIN?!"

Hanni felt her face get hot.

And that was when she realized her mistake.

She should have denied it right away. Laughed and said Danielle was exaggerating.

But hesitated.

And that was enough.

They both screamed at the same time.

"I KNEW!" Danielle jumped off the couch. “HANNI, LOOK AT YOU!”

Minji pointed at her, smiling as if she had just solved a great mystery. “And now you can’t deny that you like her anymore.”

Hanni crossed her arms, feigning indifference. “I never denied it.”

They both stopped.

Danielle’s eyes widened. “Wait. What?”

Minji smiled slowly. “Repeat that.”

Hanni looked away, uncomfortable.

She didn’t know exactly when she had accepted this internally.

Maybe it was at the arcade, when she realized how much she liked competing with you.

Or at the planetarium, when you called her Cassiopeia, just because you think looks like her.

Or maybe it was in that bookstore, when you held her hand on the table as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She like you.

And that didn’t scare her anymore.

Minji and Danielle were waiting.

Hanni sighed and looked at them.

“I like her, okay?”

They both screamed even louder.

Hanni covered her ears. "Oh my God, you guys live with me! Can you not make me deaf?!"

Danielle ignored her completely. “YOU NEED TO ASK HER FOR A FOURTH DATE.”

Minji nodded. "Before she calls first. You need to get ahead."

Hanni hesitated.

Not because she didn’t want to — she did. But she had never been the type to make the first move.

But at the same time…

She remembered your voice calling her.

Your smile before you held her hand.

The way you looked happy every time you saw her.

Maybe it was her turn to surprise you.

Minji noticed your expression change and smiled. “You already know what to do, don’t you?”

Hanni picked up her phone.

She stared at the screen for a moment.

And then, taking a deep breath, she typed:

“My turn to choose the place. Are you free tomorrow?”

The phone vibrated almost immediately.

“I’m always here for you.”

Hanni’s heart raced.

And, without being able to stop it, a smile appeared on her lips.

Taglist🏷️ (open): @liaglitch @saysirhc @jaikoyaki @somedaydream @trovao-penguins

#what’s her name?#newjeans x reader #newjeans #newjeans x fem reader #hanni x fem reader #hanni x reader #pham hanni x reader #newjeans hanni #pham hanni x fem reader #hanni pham

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kfans-writerblog · 3 months ago

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Matt smith X writer y/n

Matt is a charming bookstore owner in a quite town He meets a passionate writer who comes in searching for inspiration. As they bond over their love for literature, they embark on a journey to revive the town's annual book fair. Along the way, they face challenges that test their connection, but ultimately, they discover that love can be the greatest story of all.

Matt Smith, is organizing books when the writer walks in. Describe the cozy atmosphere, the smell of old pages, and how their eyes meet for the first time. This sets the tone for their connection. You could write something like:

-The bell above the door jingled softly as she entered, her eyes scanning the shelves filled with stories waiting to be discovered. Matt looked up from the stack of books he was arranging, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was something in the way she held herself, a spark of creativity that intrigued him instantly.-

*we meet at a library and i start typing on the computer*

*he was looking around the library, then saw you sitting there and immediately started walking over to you*

*i listen to music and tap my foot to the beat*

*he looked over your shoulder to see what you were doing*

"You listen to good music" *he said, sitting down next to you*

*i jump* "Oh, you scared me"

*he chuckled, noticing your reaction*

"Sorry, didn't mean to"

"It's ok"*i pause the music i unplug my headphones*" Can I help u with something?"

*he shrugs*

"Not really, I was just bored and saw a pretty girl at the computer, so I decided to sit down and talk to her"

*i blush* "well your the best looking store owner in town"

*he grins*

"Well, thanks. You're the prettiest girl in town"

*i save my work and got up* im y/n nice to meet u

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Matt"

*he stood up as well*

"I see your name tag hahaha"

"Oh, right"

*he laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly*

"See u next time matt"

"Yeah, I'll see you"

*he said, giving you a wave as you walked away*

*i walk out the store*

*he watches you walk away, then goes back to work*

*few days later i came back and work on the computer*

*Matt was helping a customer, but every once in a while he glanced over at you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before going back to work*

*I wave and in a whisper tone i greet him* "hey Matt"

*he looks up and grins when he sees you*

"Hey there, back so soon?"

"Yea gotta work"

"Oh? What are you working on?"

"Some fan fiction"

*he asks, walking over to you*

"Ooh, really? What kind of fan fiction?"

*he leans against the desk, his arms folded as he looks at you curiously*

*i blush* "a romantic one"

*he raises an eyebrow, intrigued*

"A romantic one, huh? Who's the love interest?"

"Daemon targaryen"

*he lets out a small laugh*

"Oh, the silver-haired bad boy, huh? Nice choice"

"Hahaha yeah"

*he smirks*

"So, are you trying to write a steamy romance story or just a cute little romance?"

"Cute ones"

*he asks with a teasing tone*

"Cute, huh? So no smutty scenes?"

"No smuts arnt for me"

"Not your thing? That's fair"

*he chuckles, clearly amused by your answer*

*i do re search and i tie my hair up*

*he watches you, a small smile playing on his lips as he admires your messy hair*

*i post my work*" hey matt wanna grab a drink?"

*he's a bit surprised by the sudden invitation, but he grins and nods*

"Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me. What kind of drink are we talking about here?"

"Coffee ? Smoothee?"

"A coffee or a smoothie, huh? I'm down for either. You want to go now?"

*he asks, glancing around the store to see if anyone else needs his help*

"Yeah I'm done"

"Cool. I just gotta finish up here and we can go"

*he says, turning to tend to the few customers that are left in the store*

*we go to a coffee shop across the street*

*he walks alongside you, the two of you chatting idly as you make your way to the coffee shop*

"So, how long have you been working on that fan fiction of yours?"

*i blow on my hot chocolate* "years mate 3 years i shall say"

*he looks impressed*

"3 years? Damn, you've been at it for a while. That's impressive. You must really love Daemon Targaryen, huh?"

"Haha yeah but I also do other people as chacters like kpop stars"

"I can see why. He's pretty dreamy"

*he says with a grin, sipping his coffee*

"I heard you like poetry"

*he looks a bit surprised by your comment*

"Yeah, I do. How did you know that?"

"Well i hear things around town"

*he chuckles, a little embarrassed*

"I see. I guess I'm not the best at keeping my secret poetry hobby "

"Anyway what are your hobbies? I heard u like reading poems"

*he takes another sip of his coffee before answering*

"Well, besides poetry, I also enjoy working out. I love spending time with friends too, and I'm a bit of a foodie as well"

*I smile*

*he smiles back, feeling a bit more comfortable now that the conversation is flowing more easily*

"So, how did you get into fanfiction writing? What's your favorite part about it?"

"My target is to get noticed by a celebrity"

*he raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your goal*

"That's a pretty ambitious target. Getting noticed by a celebrity? That would be quite the achievement"

"Yeah I wish that will happen"

*he chuckles softly*

"I'm sure you'll get there one day. Your fanfiction sounds pretty good, so maybe it'll catch the attention of someone who matters"

"Thanks cheers" *i raise my cup*

*he clinks his cup against yours with a grin*

"Cheers. And if you ever need any help or inspiration, I'm here for you. I might not be a celebrity, but I can offer my support"

"How about u help me research tonight"

*he raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes*

"Research, huh? For your fanfiction?"

*I nod* yea

*he nods*

"Sure, I'd be happy to help you research. What kind of research are we talking about?"

"Give me some ideas some themes i should write about"

*he leans back, thinking for a moment before speaking*

"Hmm, well, I think it's always important to write about something you're passionate about. Maybe you could write about one of your favorite celebrities and incorporate some of their personal traits or experiences into your story. That way, it'll be more authentic and engaging"

*i write down on a note pad my address and phone number and gives it to him * here see u at 6pm

*he takes the paper from you, looking at your address and phone number*

"Got it. I'll be there at 6 pm sharp. See you then"

*later that night i text matt* hey you coming?

*he replies almost instantly*

"Hey, sorry I'm running a little late. I'll be there in about 10 minutes. See you soon!"

*i sit and turn on my laptop*

*he arrives at your doorstep, a bit out of breath from hurrying over*

*he knocks on the door and waits for you to answer*

*i look thru the peep hole and unlocked the door*

*he smiles when you open the door, still catching his breath*

"Hey, sorry I'm late. I hope you didn't have to wait too long"

*i smile* "come on in"

*he steps inside, taking a moment to look around your place before turning his attention back to you*

"Thanks. So, where do we start with this research?"

"Have a seat" *i show u the dining room*

*he follows you into the dining room and takes a seat at the table, looking eager to help*

"Alright, I'm ready. Let's get started"

*he tries to focus on the conversation, but he can't help but notice your black night gown. The way it clings to your curves and shows off your figure makes him distracted, and he struggles to keep his eyes from wandering*

"Oh u wanna drink ? Water coffee?"

*he snaps out of his thoughts, trying to refocus on the task at hand*

"Uh, yeah, water sounds good. Thanks"

*he watches as you head into the kitchen to get him a glass of water, his gaze lingering on your figure as you move*

*i give it to u mean while we brainstorm i fell asleep on my laptop with my glasses on*

*he watches as you nod off, looking incredibly cute with your glasses still on and your head resting on your laptop*

*he chuckles softly, feeling a pang of affection for you. He debates whether to wake you up or let you sleep*

*i shrug cold and i woke up* "oh sorry"

*he smiles warmly as you wake up*

"No worries. You looked like you needed the rest"

*he hands you a blanket he found nearby*

"Here, you should cover up. You looked a bit cold"

*i hold your hand with droopy eyes*

*he feels a surge of warmth in his chest as you hold his hand. He gently squeezes your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it*

"You're cute when you're sleepy, you know that?"

*i look at my phone its valintines day* "will u be my valintine" *i say sleepyly*

*he looks at you in surprise, not expecting such a direct question*

*he pauses for a moment, a smile spreading across his face as he squeezes your hand again*

"Of course I will. I'd love to be your Valentine"

*i blush and lean on u*

*he chuckles softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer*

"You're adorable when you blush"

*he leans his head against yours, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his and he kisses your forehead gently, feeling a sense of affection and protectiveness wash over him. He nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling your scent and enjoying the closeness between you*

*i smile and gently kiss u back with my last energy i have and i fell asleep on him*

*he watches as you fall asleep, your lips gently brushing against his. He smiles, feeling a mix of amusement and tenderness at your sleepy kiss. He gently pulls you onto his lap, holding you close and running his fingers through your hair*

#house of the dragon #tumblr milestone #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader #matt smith #matthew robert smith

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perpetualexistence · 1 year ago

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A Small Matter of Planning

Alenoah Week Day 1: Proposal / First Date

Alejandro and Noah have finally decided they want to try out dating. They'd spent the past year starting off as friends, then rivals as Noah found out Alejandro's true colors, then back to friends with crushes on each other until others finally pushed them along to consider dating.

So now they just have to settle on where they want to have their first date. There's just one small, minor detail that makes planning somewhat difficult.

Noah's the size of Alejandro's hand.

This isn't anything new to them. Humans and tinies have been living with each other rather peacefully for quite a while now. There's infrastructure in place to help tinies get around without fear of getting stepped on.

Still, when it comes to relationships, there aren't many mixed-height couples. Partially because of the logistics. Partially because of conservative biases that no one talks about, but everyone knows exists.

As a result, despite talk of inclusion, most places are suited for either humans-only or tinies-only. Wawanakwa High is one of the few schools that isn't segregated, which is how Alejandro and Noah have gotten to know each other.

Combine this with the fact that Alejandro's a romantic and Noah isn't, and you have a recipe for planning for a first date to be a logistical nightmare.

Going to a cafe?

"The only cafe that'd serve both of us is across town. Plus, I don't want to deal with the stares."

Going to a new bookstore?

"It's not a date when it's something you'd do already. Let me treat you you stubborn perezosito."

With neither of them agreeing on more traditional first dates, they decide to try catering it towards something they can both agree with. Something that lets them both use their minds.

Doing an escape room? "We'd have to do one for humans. You'd have to carry me around because there's no way I'm scurrying around for clues."

Going to a game store? "The only ones with the good board games are ones for tinies. I will not degrade either of us with a party game."

It's pretty frustrating for both of them. They do want to make this work, but nothing about their relationship is simple. Still, neither of them wants to give this up. Alejandro because he's never one to back down for a challenge, and having an equal who makes him actually want to learn empathy is most certainly worth it. Noah because he never really feels motivated to do much of anything, but Alejandro makes him want to try, so like hell he's giving that up.

They take a break from planning and just hang out like they normally would. Meaning that they're hanging out when together, but both doing intense research on what to do for a first date. Alejandro actually brings himself to ask for help by texting Carlos, who's more than happy to help him bounce ideas back. Noah, knowing nothing of romance nor knowing anyone else who knows about romance, googles 'ideas for first dates' in incognito mode and double checks that nothing has been saved by the time he's done checking.

Eventually, the two do come across an interesting idea. The bookstore Noah was arguing for has a trivia night every Thursday. It doesn't require anything physical, which is great for Noah. There will be food, which Alejandro will pay for so he can still be romantic. And it allows them both to show off how better they are than everyone else work together rather than compete with each other for once.

It goes off without a hitch! They get a few odd looks. It's hard to say whether it's because of the size difference, how young they are, or the fact that they enter as a duo when most other teams have at least four people.

That quickly changes as they start destroying the competition. Everyone else is practically competing for second place.

Their victory comes as a surprise to no one. Regulars of all sizes immediately make their way towards the two begging for the teens to join their teams. Some of them do genuinely mean well and are excited to have new blood at trivia night. Others want to try to take advantages of the two. Alejandro happily jumps at the chance to deal with all of them.

Meanwhile Noah sneaks away to go collect their prizes (and not have to deal with the swarm of people). The prizes are relatively small since it is a weekly event. $25 gift cards to the bookstore. Or, if they do plan on becoming regulars, they can each start a tab. Noah takes one glance at his social butterfly of a boyfriend and tells the host that yeah, they'll start a tab.

So their date idea ends up becoming a new weekly tradition. The other regulars happily accept them among their ranks. They find a team that they will join on occasion, though for the most part they stick with being a duo. Once in a blue moon they'll even go onto separate teams. It's a perfect excuse for competitive, flirtatious banter.

Either way, it's still a delightful date night.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 years ago

Note

Are there any fics where John is gay?

Hey Lovely!

Ahh, hmm! None immediately come to mind, but I did find another old ask looking for Gay John fics too here, and there is two fics suggested on it, and a link to Alexx's Gay John list:

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori(E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE|| Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

That Sudden Flood of Joy by apliddell(E, 7,124 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Mary, Friends to Lovers, Domesticity, Gay John, Healing, Flirting, Banter, Self Care and Love) – After John actually marries a woman he doesn't love, he realises he needs to start being more honest about his feelings, and things start to change.

-----

And I did a search of my MFL list for specifically "gay John", here are a couple more:

i read your book, you magnificent bastard by a_different_equation (M, 4,145 w., 1 Ch. || Writer Sherlock AU || Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Alternate First Meeting, Epistolary, Love at First Sight, Romantic Comedy, Metafiction, Falling in Love, Sherlock Wears Glasses, Gay John, Matchmaker Mike, Storytelling, Christmas) – In which John Watson, recently returned from the war, buys a book in Mike Stamford's bookshop and Sherlock Holmes is a famous, openly gay, crime fiction writer whose hero is in need of a partner. Part 1 of the Magnificent Bastard!AU series

The Killing Principle by Vulpesmellifera (E, 104,593 w., 46 Ch. || American AU || Gay John, Serial Killer Mary, Bum Appreciation, Sherlock is William, Dating Difficulties, BAMF Sherlock, Slow Burn, Thriller, Confessions, Whump, Angst with Happy Ending, Minor Character Death) – John Watson served twice in AmeriCorps, married his high school sweetheart, and then entered med school. A sudden arrest and accusation of multiple murders ends his promising career, irrevocably altering his life's trajectory. Acquitted of his wife’s crimes, John spends the next ten years as the maligned ex-husband of convicted serial killer Mercy Mary. A job offer draws him out of hiding and back to Connecticut - the very state where the crimes were committed. He needs the money, and the job is a dream. Then he meets the brilliant William Vernet, and it seems like he has a second chance at life and love. But the past has a way of catching up.

-----

Anyone have any others for Aurora?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #john is gay #gay john #help steph find fics

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highseas-swede · 2 years ago

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On Nightingales

Vera Lynn's version of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square" released in 1940, only a year before Crowley rescues Aziraphale by entering a church.

Don't forget that music in this period got a lot more play for a longer amount of time. There were a lot less songs published and new things stayed on the radio, in theaters and pretty much everywhere else for years instead of weeks. It was entirely possible this song was still very much all over the place in 1941, especially if it originated on West End, which we already know Aziraphale is quite taken by. And don't forget that the scene of them dining together after the Furfur scare is the first time - chronologically speaking - that they've been shown dining together in a context that is framed as distinctly romantic.

Imagine the two of them in the Bentley, driving back to the shop after the nearly disastrous magic act. Imagine the Bentley going nearly the speed limit despite Crowley's foot pressed down hard on the gas for plausible deniability. Crowley not wanting to get Aziraphale back to the bookstore too quickly because that's it, that's when they part ways for who knows how long. And don't forget that there's still the hurt of that last angry fight between them and it's still THERE, that whole fight hasn't gone away because of this one rescue, but neither of them will speak of it because if they do it would bring an abrupt end to this strange magical night they're sharing. Crowley will take every second of this… whatever this is and burn it into his memory instead. The image of Aziraphale flushed and giddy with success and looking at him with that brilliant smile is something he'll want to remember forever.

Now imagine Aziraphale turning on the radio to soothe his nerves on the drive back and there's no Queen songs yet to override what's on the radio and it's this song. It's Vera Lynn's beautiful voice singing about nightingales and love. Imagine him looking at Crowley while he's driving, the softness of his eyes, the adoring smile curving his lips. Vera Lynn is singing about how falling in love works and Aziraphale has a name for this big swelling emotion he was feeling in the church when Crowley handed him the rescued books.

Imagine Crowley parking in front of the bookshop, waiting for Aziraphale to get out, for the two of them to go their separate ways because they always do. Instead Aziraphale invites him inside and flips his entire world on its head.

Maybe he hesitates.

Maybe Aziraphale grabs his hand. Maybe he'll say it's an accident, that it wasn't planned, and it won't matter if it's true or not because he's only gotten to take Crowley's hand for the first time an hour and a half ago and he's going to live in the warmth of Crowley's fingers against his for as long as he can.

Imagine them sitting together in the candlelight, alone. The bookshop is an embassy safe from demons. Imagine Aziraphale desperate to make the night last a little longer, standing and putting on the phonograph and it doesn't matter what record was on it, it's THAT song. Their song.

Maybe the Bentley is always better behaved for Aziraphale. Maybe it likes to play their song sometimes when they're together and Aziraphale is overflowing with too much love to hold in any longer. Maybe it plays on radios when they walk past together.

Maybe that first time they were being seated at the Ritz, the piano player finds the sheet music in front of her and finds herself playing it without questioning. Maybe she's used to it by now and plays it whenever they come, without even the need for prompting anymore.

Now imagine Aziraphale on the way to Heaven. Imagine he knows this is the last time they'll see each other for who knows how long and he the echo of his forgiveness echoes in his mind. Imagine the words he really wanted to say still on his tongue, still unspoken, still very much there.

Imagine Aziraphale knows he can't go back to Crowley now, no matter how much he wants to because it will destroy the world and how can they listen to their song and toast the world if there's no world left for them? Crowley says he's okay with running away together and letting the world burn but Aziraphale knows that he lies. He couldn't even let Job's blameless goats and Job's blameless children burn when it was the will of God and Satan. Crowley might not be the angel Aziraphale knew, not anymore, but Aziraphale still knows Crowley. He's seen how Crowley cares for the world and this is how he can keep the world safe, can keep CROWLEY safe.

Maybe there's the sound of the smallest little half-miracle as Aziraphale gazes across the street at Crowley. Maybe he barely needs one to reach out to the Bentley that already loves and listens to him and plays what he wants her to play.

Imagine a song playing over the Bentley's speakers. Imagine it was meant to be reassuring. Imagine the next line goes like this:

I may be right I may be wrong But I'm perfectly willing to swear That when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

Imagine it's a message, a promise of happier times to come, once Aziraphale has made Heaven better for Crowley, for everyone.

Imagine Crowley never hears it. Imagine that instead he turns it off and drives away in a silence too loud to bear.

#Good Omens #crowley x arizaphale #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens meta #historical context #a nightingale sang in berkeley square #Kinda a fic?#meta + fic in one #The actual verse is inaccurate as the scene in S2 ends on the second verse of the song #I have thoughts about that too #But it worked so well for this

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bella-goths-wife · 2 years ago

Text

Now my life is sweet like cinnamon

Lost boys x daughter reader, platonic Michael x reader

Content: Michael and reader run into a close call with some LA vampires

“Wake up” the sound of Michaels grumbles wakes you from your slumber suddenly

“What do you want?” You groan as you move away from his side of the bed

It had become usual for you to sleep in the same bed now. You liked to say it was because there was only one bed and the couch gave you back ache, but you both knew it was because of your fathers plaguing you sleep with threatening dreams. Sleeping in the same bed as Michael offered you enough comfort when you woke up that the dreams felt less terrifying.

“We need to fix you sleep schedule” Michael announces he shoves you awake “your too used to sleeping during the day, if you want to be a regular human you need to start sleeping at night instead”

“But I’m tired” you groan as you try to cover your face with the sheets

“Not my problem” Michael says with a slight smirk in his tone, he enjoyed teasing you, it reminded him of sam “get up”

Michael grabs the sheets and pulls them off you roughly, accidentally pulling you out of the bed and leaving you to fall on the ground. You yelp as your body makes contact with the hard floor. Michael laughs heavily as you shoot him a glare.

“Go shower, you stink” Michael says, still chuckling

“I pity your future girlfriend” you state as you glare at him before making your way to the bathroom

“What did James see in you, unwashed hair and unlimited attitude?” Michael calls back with a chuckle

You stick your middle finger up at him before entering the bathroom and turning on the shower and getting in.

You thought that living with Michael would be awkward, but he made you feel comfortable. It felt nice having a friend, back at Santa Carla you only really talked to romantic partners or your fathers so you never really had a fully platonic relationship.

After your shower, Michael decided it was time the two of you explored the city a bit, so you did. The two of you wandered around the city and went into many different bars and stores.

While looking around, you decided to apply for jobs in bars, clubs and restaurants. You couldn’t stay with Michael forever and while you didn’t like the loud atmospheres of the bars or clubs, you couldn’t hide away in bookstores forever.

Michael decided to apply as well but for more physical jobs such as mechanic. He had always known his way around cars and bikes so he thought he better put those skills to use since he couldn’t exactly ask his mother for more money.

As the two of you walk, Michael can’t help but stare at you. You had gone through so much, well Michael assumed you had because of all the nights he held you in a comforting hug to try and soothe you back to sleep.

He wonders how your fathers could hurt you, their child. You may not be biologically theirs but Michael couldn’t help but wonder why someone could look you in the eyes and lie to you.

It scared Michael how attached you became to him, you didn’t admit it but you clung to him like he was your last hope and he probably was. He couldn’t help himself getting attached to you, getting protective over you. You were like his little sister and he couldn’t stand to see you hurt anymore.

So Michael grew attached to you in the same way you grew attached to him. And that scared him more than anything.

“It’s getting dark” you point out as you break Michael from his thoughts “should we head back?”

“We can go to one more bar” Michael says with a small smile “it’s not that late”

“Okay” you nod as you spot a small hideaway bar and you point it out “how about that one?”

“The creepy goth one?” Michael asks with a raised brow “did your dad never teach you to avoid creepy places?”

“They were vampire’s Michael, I lived in a cave” you say deadpan “they taught me to never disobey or I’d be put in a small cave with no food”

“Okay, point taken” Michael says with a huff as he raised his hands in mock surrender “lead the way”

You roll your eyes as you enter the small bar. It had a dark interior with splashes of dark red on the walls and the couches. The patrons all talk quietly amongst themselves with only a few of them looking up at the two of you, exchanging sly smirks amongst themselves.

Something felt familiar with them, something felt eerily familiar. Michael doesn’t get the same feeling as he pulls your hand to sit the two of you down at the bar. The bartender eyes him up expectingly, almost as if he was observing him.

“What can I get you?” He ask with a raised brow

“Whiskey for me please” Michael says as he gets his cash out

“And for the girl?” The bartender asks, ignoring your presence

“Just a coke please” you say with a forced smile, the bartender chuckles as he goes to make your drinks

You and Michael exchange looks as you feel yourself grow uncomfortable, as if you were being examined. You tried to make polite conversation with Michael until a man say beside you at the bar

“You smell familiar” the stranger remarks and you turn to look at him. He had long dark hair with piercing green eyes that seemed to linger on you longer than you’d like

“Excuse me?” You ask with a confused look

“Where are you from girl?” The stranger asks, a European accent bleeding through his words

“Nowhere” you reply as you subtly reach for Michaels hand as a sign that you should be leaving, he’s distracted while paying for your drinks and doesn’t get the hint

“My dear, I’ve been alive many years” the man laughs almost condescendingly “and I’ve never met someone from no where, and I find it hard to believe you’d be an exception”

“Theres a first time for everything” you say neutrally as you notice the other bar patrons begin standing up, your heart beats faster in panic

“Do my friends make you nervous?” The man asks as he stands from his seat and stands behind you and Michael “don’t be afraid little bird, we won’t hurt you”

You feel fear prickle into your heart as you quickly grab Michaels hand to make a break for it. You drag him out his seat as the two of you run for the door but the stranger uses inhuman speed to block it. He laughs and his fangs shine in the lights of the bar.

“Don’t run, little bird” he coos as he comes closer and pushes Michael out the way who lands into the bartenders grip before he turns you around and holds him against you by your neck.

“You drink the girl now, and we’ll save the boy for the beer barrels” the bartender commands as Michael thrashes against his hold in an effort to reach you

“Good idea Reginald” the other vampire laughs as he grips you tighter and brings his mouth to your neck.

“Wait” you yell out as his fangs graze your flesh and an idea comes to your mind “he’s a familiar”

The rooms movement stops as the group of vampires think for a moment.

“Of really” the vampire that’s holding you says with a chuckle “and who does he belong to? I’m sure that they won’t miss him too much”

“Maxwell Lawrence” you answer with your grandfathers name “of Santa Carla”

The room freezes at the mention of your grandfathers name and the patrons of the bar exchange worried looks before the bartender quickly lets Michael go

“Thee Maxwell Lawrence?” The bartender asks with a fearful gulp

“Yes” you answer quickly, taking advantage of your grandfathers influence “and you wouldn’t want to disrespect him by killing his human familiar?”

“Of course not” the bartender says with a forced smile as he pats Michaels shoulders awkwardly “you don’t have to mention this to him, do you?”

Michael looks at you in confusion for a moment before catching on and deciding to play along and shaking his head.

“And you?” The vampire who still had you in his hold spoke up “who are you to maxwell Lawrence, your too weak to be a familiar for a vampire of that pedigree”

“Dimitri” the bartender hisses fearfully while the vampire ignores him “this isn’t a fight you want to start”

You think for a moment before a phrase forced its way to the front of your mind, and your mouth spoke it before you could stop it.

“I’m his baby bat” you answer, your nervousness bleeding it’s way into your tone before you quickly cover it

“You smell human” the vampire says with a small chuckle “you can’t be his vampire offspring”

“Future baby bat” you correct, hoping you had gotten the term correct “he plans to change me after my trip, so I can experience everything human first”

“And why would he let out do that, vampires are naturally protective of the youngest or the pack” Dimitri says with a scoff

“Are you questioning his judgement?” You ask with a raised brow challengingly

“I’m questioning your entire character” dimitri states with a glare “I should rip your throat out, you liar”

“Try it” you say as you match his glare, controlling your heartbeat to remain steady “but are you sure you want to put your entire pack in danger of being killed because you killed a future offspring of Maxwell Lawrence?”

Dimitri glares at you a moment before his eyes land on the other patrons of the bar, his pack. His eyes look as if they’ve softened temporarily before turning harsh when he stares at you.

He scoffs before pushing you away and into the arms of Michael, who holds you behind him.

“Give our best to max” Dimitri says with a smirk before his face “and be careful little bird, the dark is filled with monsters that would find a creature like you irresistible”

You nod as you grab Michaels hand and you rush out the bar as fast as your legs can carry you.

The two of you run all the way back to your apartment before you lock the door quickly before leaning against it and letting out a sigh of relief.

“What the fuck?” Michael whispers out as he tries to catch his breath “what the fucks a familiar?”

“A helper of a vampire who expects to be turned one day” you explain through breathlessness “a pet basically”

“Charming” Michael says with a sigh “did your dads ever have one?”

“They had girlfriends, who they eventually ate” you state “and I was practically a familiar the past few months, nothing more than a pet for them to entertain themselves with”

“Jesus” Michael says with a grimace “remind me to not talk to any vampires”

“They would eat you before you could talk to them” you state

“I’m going to bed” Michael sighs in defeat “but thanks for saving me”

“No problem” you say with a shrug “just be thankful my grandpa taught me some vampire talk”

You sigh and rub your temples gently as you think about the night, must everything you do turn into a life or death situation?

———————————————————————-

Max sighs softly in frustration as he hears the quiet chime of the store’s entrance that signalled someone had entered.

He had been wracked with worry since his idiot son David had informed him of your disappearance, and he was furious too.

Those idiotic, selfish boys had caused maxs only family member that he loved to run away because of their own abusive and cruel actions.

He missed you dearly. He had tried using James as a distraction from his grief but the boy was only concerned with your well-being and his desperation only furthered maxs anxiety over your absence.

Max ran a hand through his hair before forcing a fake smile to be plastered on his face. He left the store room and made his way to the cash register but he froze when his enhanced scent picked up on something, another vampire.

“Dimitri Tyrell” max says as his eyes narrow and he moves closer “what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Maxwell Lawrence” Dimitri says with a smirk as his green eyes stare at max and it feels like they pierce his soul “I believe you misplaced something”

“Oh really?” Max says with an amused look “and what would that be?”

“Well last Friday gone I was sat in my bar, and you wouldn’t guess who walks in” Dimitri says as he hops up and sits on the counter, his black hair flowing around his shoulders as he does so “two humans, a boy who was around mid twenties, and a young girl”

“A girl?” Max says questioningly as he feels a spike of anxiety at the thought that it could be you

“Yes a girl” Dimitri chuckles out with a mockingly dramatic tone “you wouldn’t believe my surprise when she tells me that the boy was your familiar, and she was your future baby bat”

In a moment, max has Dimitri collar in his hands as he pulls him off the counter and holds him up by his shirt. Max’s eyes flash they’re vampiric colour as his fangs elongate and he hissed threateningly.

“What did you do?” Max hisses as he pulls Dimitri forcefully closer “did you hurt her?”

Dimitri let’s out an amused laugh as he grins with what looks like joy.

“So she wasn’t lying” he remarks with manic giggles “thee famous Maxwell Lawrence, the thousands of years old vampire who could take down a clan of vampires in moments, has gone soft”

“Tell me what you did to her right now or I’ll tear out your throat before I burn your bar down to the ground with your clan inside it” max yells as he bashes Dimitri against the wall

“Calm down old man, she’s alive” Dimitri says with a grin and max visibly relaxes “we let her go after she claimed that you had given her a period of time for her to experience the human world before turning, but I’m guessing she lied about that?”

Max dropped Dimitri and walks away with a sigh before reaching for a flask full of blood that he had stashed underneath boxes full of records.

“She ran away a few months ago from my son” max admits as he takes a swig of blood from the flask “I haven’t heard anything from her since”

“So she’s a grand baby bat” Dimitri says with a laugh “you must be worried huh?”

“Why are you here Dimitri” max hisses in frustration

“Relax old man, I’m just here to verify If she was telling the truth” Dimitri shrugs before smirking “she smelt quite delicious after all, she was pretty too”

Max hisses again but Dimitri just laughs. Max turns to look at him, waiting for him to continue with a threatening glare.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where she is?” Dimitri asks with a curious tone and a raised eyebrow

There is a moment of silence before max finally speaks

“Did she look happy?” Max asks quietly with subtle desperation in his tone

The question shocked Dimitri as his smug persona is dropped for a moment as his eyes widened and he looked at max with curiosity.

“Yes” Dimitri answers after a moment of quiet “she seemed happy before, y’know, we tried to drink her blood”

Max looks at the floor in contemplation as images of your younger self flashes before him. He missed your smile, he hadn’t seen it in a long time.

“That’s more than she ever was here” max says with a regretful sigh “keep an eye on her for me?”

“You aren’t going to get her back?” Dimitri asks curiously

“She would never forgive me” max admits, his softer side bleeding into his tone “I could never put her through it again”

Dimitri sighs before nodding, a newfound respect for max seemed to be present in his eyes as he gathers himself and turns away

“I’ll look after your little bird” Dimitri reassures as he begins to walk away “she’ll be safe under my watch”

“Thank you” max says with a sigh of relief as he watches Dimitri begin to leave “oh, and Dimitri?”

Dimitri hums in acknowledgement as he stops walking and waits for max to finish talking

“Don’t you dare even think about trying to romance her” max warns with a threatening glare “she has a boy waiting for her here”

“No promises” Dimitri says as he throws a cheeky smirk at max over his shoulder before turning into his bat form and leaving max standing alone

Max thinks about James for a moment as he stands alone in the store. James would never forgive him for allowing you to stay away from Santa Carla.

He can’t even imagine David’s reaction….

———————————————————————

#slashers x reader #lost boys x reader #lost boys x child reader #platonic lost boys x reader #yandere lost boys x reader #poly lost boys x reader #yandere lost boys #dad lost boys #the lost boys #lost boy x reader

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