#he is so thoughtful and sweet and he has the loveliest smile and pretty hands and a warm kind voice and he is so cuddly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wqxianwriting · 9 months

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how to make a golden retriever happy.

SLIGHTLY proofread | f!reader | poly relationship with nick & charlie though reader isn’t dating charlie | pretty damn long i got ahead of myself, sorry :,) | they’re so cute but im so bad at details fr | lunch date, walks, stargazing w fireflies & movie night! (you got headbands to wear… guess what movie charlie is having y’all watch rn) | what is stargazing | author questioning what color sonic’s eyes are | theres some crying at the end and a mention of breaking up but its just those negative thoughts actin up, theyre all okay :) | angst/comfort? | not many kisses unfortunately but THERE ARE SOME, like three scenes… two? | there is cussing, not much | nick & reader flashbacks

#%a/n%#;; first request done! thanks for it, they mean so much to me. i didn’t wanna make it too long but here we are lolol, hope it’s enjoyable though 🥹💜 also ntm on your family details but your mom does appear and she has a “set” personality! no one else appears though so you can imagine the reader’s family how you want, though it is mentioned your mom is married. also note, since reader is a lady she goes to the same school as like, elle darcy tara (and probably imogen too, right?). meant to post this yesterday but i wanted to add some stuff at the end haha, sorry sorry this is a whole ass wattpad book fr, feel like i wrote so much and nothing at the same time. hope you enjoy if you give it a read thought fhdhdj

OH YEAH last thing, the emotions in this story is kind of a whiplash 💀 one minute they’re happy the next theyre kinda sad or bittersweet so- hopefully the pacing doesnt seem bad… BE WARNED. shouldn’t be too crazy. okay thats it this time do enjoy

character(s):

nick & charlie (heartstopper)

elle & tao cameo

reader’s mom omg she’s a sweetheart, charlie’s parents are mentioned/super small cameo, nick’s mom also has a small cameo/is mentioned

darcy, imogen and sahar are very briefly mentioned!

The sweet sound of the school bell rings throughout and the school and every single student sighs in relief of the noise. You glance up at the clock on the wall before looking around the classroom where students are packing up their bags while talking noisily to one another.

You allow yourself to recline in your chair, left arm reaching back to where your backpack dangles off the seat and slide your hands into the side pocket, grabbing your phone.

Nicky Ricky Dicky: I’m alive!

Char: you live! i live too :) wanna walk together today or are you both busy? (gonna pick you up bestie)

Y/N: i’ll meet you outside (ty loveliest)

Char: awesome!!! nick?

Nicky Ricky Dicky: Sorry aha, I need to go home quickly today but I’ll be sure to join tomorrow!

This makes you pout and you can imagine your bestfriend having the same expression because the sad emoji he wrote in the group-chat even makes you sadder.

Char: ☹️

Y/N: don’f worry charlie

Y/N: Don’t*

Nicky Ricky Dicky: Sorry :,)

Char: It’s fine! Do what you have to do… we gonna facetime tonight though?

Char hearts your message ‘don’f worry charlie’.

Nicky Ricky Dicky: No promises but I’ll do my best. 😠❤️

Nicky Ricky Dicky: i gtg now, love you both <3

Y/N: lym! ❤️

Char: love you! ❤️❤️❤️

Y/N: three hearts 🥹

Char: y/n. STOP. come outside before i die

Y/N: omg… such a drama king like okay

You write and yet, you’re quick to jump from your chair and snatch your bag before sliding it on your shoulder. You push in your chair and skip out into the hallways where you see Elle. “Heya, Elle!”

She smiles warmly and waves goodbye to her friends before stepping in sync with you. “Hey there, Miss, didn’t catch your name.” You bump her shoulder and she bumps you back. “What’re you up to?”

“Charlie’s gonna come pick me up, hopefully via bike… mines broke the other day.” You sigh and she gives you a look of pity while trying to bite back a grin. Then she perks up.

“Not Nick?”

You shake your head, rubbing a hand against your temple. “Mm-mm, you ever just get a feeling something is off?”

Elle nods, turning her face away from you and her hands grip onto the handle of her bag that bounces against her legs. “Yeah, just putting it out there… graduation may be on his mind, I know its on mine and it’s been kicking my ass to be honest,” You wrap an arm around her in comfort and she hums in appreciation. “Just all that weird stuff, weird thoughts and anxiety…” Then she pauses, raising a hand and flicking her wrist. “Okay- not weird, but you know.”

That makes you snort, “Yeah, I get’cha… maybe, but we’ve always been open about that kind of stuff, I just don’t understand why it’d be a issue… I mean, we’ve talked about it many times before so it’s kind of odd, I guess?” You and Elle share a look of confusion before shrugging.

“Maybe it’s been having more of an impact y’know? You can speak easily about something when you’re not there yet but… graduation is coming up and everyone is worried about the future. You know how things don’t hit you till it’s happening literally next week or something? Maybe its hitting harder.”

Your heart clenches in pain at those words. She’s not wrong, there is a high chance it’s staring to affect him more… hitting harder than you’d know. You nibble on your bottom lip in concern and furrow your eyebrows,

“Well. If he’s being an idiot and isn’t gonna come to us about it then I’ll beat him up.” You place your hands on your hips, lightly joking to disperse the tense air between the two of you. Of course he isn’t being an idiot but you refuse to let him stress on his own. Elle chokes out a laugh in surprise.

“Oh god, he better run, she’s scary when she’s angry.” One of her hands let go of her bag and she hold her stomach while laughing a bit more. “Wouldn’t that be a sight?”

You scoff, “Like we haven’t argued before.”

“You argue about literal video games.”

“Stop.” You laugh and push at her shoulder. “Oh, and Elle, you know I’m your friend and if you ever need an ear to lend about college talk or need help to get your mind off of it to just relax, you got me.” She stares at you for a few beats before cracking into a grin.

“Thank you, Y/N. You know you got me too.”

Outside the school building you’re quick to spot two familiar figures by the gate. “Yes, he’s here!” Your arms raise in celebration then instantly flop down, “There’s no bike…!”

Elle calls out which makes the two boys stiff in seconds.

“Get your butts over here, Mr. Xu and Mr. Spring!” They awkwardly crane their necks to your direction and simultaneously sigh in relief – probably thinking you were teachers.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Tao exclaims as you and Elle once you’re right infront of the two, gesturing to his heart. Elle is quick to place a hand over his chest – Tao’s cheeks lowkey reddening but you decide not to point it out for his sake – and her eyes widen a bit.

“Tao, your chest is gonna shoot out your chest.”

“See?”

“That is the goal, sire.” You finger gun at him and he smacks your hand away lightly with an exasperated look. It makes you giggle. “Elle is just feeling a little silly today.”

“It’s my agenda.” She grins before engulfing Charlie into a hug and he squeaks in surprise before squeezing her back. “Hello, Charlie!”

“Are you sure your heart isn’t pounding because you’ve gotten your daily dose of Elle?” You whisper while stepping in line next to Tao, facing your head to your other friends but you can see him tense at the corner of your eye.

He pinches his nose bridge, mumbling and you catch some of the words, suspiciously sounding like him saying he’s gonna fight you. His cheeks bloom a rosy rose so you take the win either way and smugly smirk at him.

“Hi, Elle!” His muffled laugh catches your attention, making you and Tao smile at the interaction before you wrap an arm around the latter, making him eyeroll, of course he does, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder and gives you a light squeeze in response.

“We best be off on our merry way,” You speak up, checking the time as the two friends let go of eachother. “I wanna stop by that new shop that opened a few weeks ago… Is that fine, Char?”

He gives you a thumbs up and Elle speaks, “Let me know how their desserts taste, I’ve been wondering but honestly they don’t look that good so…” She stares at you with a grimace before shrugging.

“Noted~” You say in a singsong voice before wrapping your arms around Charlie. “I’ll call you later, enjoy your afternoon date.” You and Charlie give the couple teasing grins and they take the bait, looking away in shyness but Tao takes the initiative and connects their hands together. It makes you melt.

“Shut up.” He groans, snapping but tone very much unthreatening adding on the fact he’s trying to cover his flustered face with his free hand.

“Yes, yes grumpy old man, we’ll see you later.” You and Charlie waist no time to start down the road with waves.

“Bye!” He shouts.

“I’m not a grumpy old man!” Tao stomps his foot, comedically. Right. How could you make that mistake?

“Bye, Y/N and Charlie!” Elle laughs with a wave and tugs her totally-not-grumpy boyfriend off in the other direction. You watch their hands tighten around eachother, squinting in amusement when Tao’s scowl instantly softens into a lovestruck gaze.

“Ahhh, young love.”

“You’re starting to sound like the old one here.” Charlie snickers, hands coming up to hold onto your forearms that are still bounded around him.

“You wound me, Char.” You squeeze him and he huffs. “I literally think the same when you and Nick are interacting, it’s so,” You make weird noises, fingers wiggling. “Y’know? Very sweet. Very cute, I even have some photos of you latching onto eachother while sleeping. Wanna see-?”

His brain feels like it’s shutting down, lightly smacking your arm when you lift it as to grab your phone. “Stop it.” You could practically see those animated stars swirling around his head and laugh.

You relent and unwrap your arms with a cheeky smile. He glances at you before hiding his face in his hands. “Ughh, whatever. You act like you don’t jump Nick the minute you see him.” Yeah, that’s crazy. You feel your own cheeks flaring up.

“You must be blind.”

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie!” He exclaims in a joking tone, uncovering his face and poking you in accusation. You lean away, losing your balance and forcing yourself to lean on your tippy toe. Your other foot comes down onto pavement with a stomp and you twirl like you’re dancing. Charlie definitely notices this misstep, doesn’t say anything but you see his shoulders shaking in silence. He’s laughing.

“I never lie?” You pick off the conversation.

“Was that a question?” He tilts his head back at you.

“No?”

He stares at you, eyebrow twitching and you puff out your cheeks like a frog, looking anywhere but in his direction. “You’re awfully cheeky today.”

“How am I being cheeky?” He gives you a look like you’re being ridiculous.

“Charlie Spring is a little cheeky today, my oh my, what have I done to deserve this.” Then you raise your voice in a slight yell, “Ahhh! Who is this?! This isn’t my Charlieeee…!” Your arms reach for the sky.

“You’re an idiot.” He takes the chance and poke you again which makes you yelp. You narrow your eyes. He runs off, you chase.

That was last week. You haven’t seen your boyfriend in a couple of days and it’s concerning. He responds hours late to your messages, doesn’t even respond in your group chat with Charlie, his calls barely last ten minutes and you literally haven’t seen this man in person. Charlie tells you he still shows up at school but his eye-bags are pretty bad.

“Is he avoiding me? I’m confused.” You frown, balled up on Charlie’s bed and feeling very mixed. A little annoyed, a little sad, and alot of worried. Charlie sets down two mugs on his bedside table and sits next to you on the bed. His rests a hand atop of your head and lightly taps it.

“No… I don’t think so. I see him at school and he tries to act normal but even he doesn’t respond to me like that outside of school.” The scowl his face makes has deepened and you’re quick to wrap an arm around his leg in comfort. He lets out a weak smile but it’s quick to fall off his face. “I’m confused too…”

You both stay silent, it’s nearly deafening. “I don’t wanna force him to tell us anything – I mean, he knows he can come to us if he needs it but if he’s really stressed about school maybe we can help give him some space to not think about it. Even if its only for a bit, you know?” Charlie listens to you mumble while tugging at a loose thread on his sweater and nods slowly, eyes lost in thought.

“Should we go somewhere?” He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling before his gaze travels around his room’s walls, hoping to find an inkling of inspection.

“That sounds fine.” The somber feeling in the room lifts a bit when you start to grin. You shift onto your back, raising your right arm in the air and sprawl out your fingers. “We could go out, do something and eat… I kinda wanna stargaze, is that weird?”

He lets out a chuckle, glancing down at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, “Wow, you’re such a romantic, Y/N. I’m shocked.” To which you scoff.

“Well, duh. Who makes all the date plans?”

“Okay, no, that’s because you say we’re bad at planning dates – you refuse us to even be involved.”

“Charlie, Nick brought you to a dog park as a date.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You both stayed there till nine.”

He full on laughs now, bumping you with his knee and you smack it back in retort. “No judgement though, I would do the same but that was for the whole day! Who stays at a dog park from Eleven to Nine?” He continues to laugh until they turn into giggles.

“Maybe… we’re unique.”

“True that. You didn’t even bring baby Nells, shaking my head.” To put emphasis, you shake your head and your friend has to gasp out for air. “Don’t die, now.”

“Whatever whatever.” He brings his hands to his face and rubs his cheeks in circular motion to calm himself. His face is flushed and he exhales slowly before reaching for his phone. “Do you want your drink?”

You remove your arm from his leg and sit up properly, holding on your hands and he complies, placing the mug between them. “Thank you~” You lean on the wall, flopping your legs onto Charlie’s before crossing them at the ankles – to which he sighs in annoyance and it makes you grin. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna search for places to go that is nearby but not too close… you have a place in mind for stargazing?” He grabs his own mug that is black and littered with yellow stars, how ironic. You nod sleepily, slowly sipping your preferred drink and tap at the cup absentmindedly.

“Yeah, it’s near my house.”

He flicks his eyes towards you for a second.

Then goes back to typing on his phone.

“You mean it is your home.”

“Maybe.”

You smirk, he sighs and you both go back to planning. Nick honestly better be willing to get his ass dragged out of the house by his lovely girlfriend and boyfriend because money is involved and you both would be damned if he just wallows in self despair, alone.

So, that’s what happens, you fill Charlie’s parents in on needing to steal your bestfriend during the weekend and some of the plans involved like a movie night. They agreed to let him stay over for the night but he must call every few hours or atleast text.

Your parents love the boys and were completely down with the idea. Of course you also secretly called Nick’s mum and she had filled you in on a couple things that made you a tad bit more nervous to see your boyfriend.

Seems like your assumption was correct (more like Elle’s). “Lately he’s been talking about colleges, right… he’s planning to go on a trip sometime this month to check them out but he seems stressed, it’s been worrying me. You know though, kids probably don’t want their parents all in their business, haha,” She laughs softly and you can hear running water cut off on her end – probably washing something – “He knows he can come to me so I’m just letting him have his space. It’s lovely you and Charlie want to ease his mind! Glad he’s with and friends with two sweethearts,” This makes your face flare up in embarrassment but your chest puffs with pride.

“Of course, and I know he appreciates you being patient and understanding with him. The thing we don’t wanna do is pressure him… I just hope this can help take his mind off of the stress and you know… relax?” You grimace a bit, tugging at the end of your sleeve as the phone sits between your ear and shoulder.

“I get it, mhm. Thank you, Y/N.” Her voice is still soft but gets even more sincere with a hint of emotion. Had you feeling emotional too.

Saturday is quick to arrive and you stare at your reflection with determination. Brushing down your outfit, you admire your date look a bit more before turning around slowly and snatch your bag off the bed which is filled with random necessities that you may or may not need along with your wallet.

“Alright, Nick Nelson, prepare yourself for the best date you’ll ever be on.” You puff out your cheeks, grab you phone of the charger and exit your room. “I’ll be off, Mother~” You hum once you reach the end of the staircase and spot your Mom on the couch with a paper in hand.

“What is with the formal address?” She chuckles behind her hand, standing up and following you towards the front door. “I’ll see you later tonight with Nick and Charlie, right? Enjoy yourselves.” She smiles, wrapping her arms around your head and you hug her back with a gentle squeeze.

“Oh! Wait.”

She quickly unravels herself from you and speeds down the hall to the kitchen. Your eyes stare down the direction she went for a few seconds before deciding to slip on your shoes.

“Okay, here you go.” You’re standing with the door open by the time she comes back and she gives you a picnic basket. It’s not super big but you have to grab it with two hands. Less from the size, more from the weight.

“Mom. What did you pack in here?” You huff out a laugh, going to open the lid but she stops you.

“No, do not open it. It’s like… a wedding. You can’t see your spouse or it’ll be bad luck!” She speaks with a finger raised and you cock an eyebrow up. Whatever you say, Mom is basically your expression and she seems to notice because she places her hands on her hips with an exasperated look. “Just trust me, I’ve done it before and it was bad luck all day.”

“Mhm, mhm, right.” You nod, half listening and backing up on your porch. She follows, hand on the doorknob with a soft smile and she pinches your cheek with her other hand. “Thanks, I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” She full on grins now and waves. After your ‘see you later’ promises, you’re quick to dart down the street and across the roads to a nearby park where Charlie said he’d meet you after picking up Nick. It gives you enough time to unload the nice lunch packed for the three of you and hopefully buy some refreshing popsicles or ice creams before they arrive.

Seems like luck is on your side though – maybe your Mom was right – because the minute you finish laying out the huge blanket in a nice shaded area you hear the sound of someone ringing a familiar bell sound. You turn your head so quick it nearly gave you whiplash and your eyes widen at the person walking along the park’s path, pushing a white squared cart decorated with photos of different types of cold treats.

You take your bag and phone, dialing Charlie’s number while speedwalking across the grassy field. It takes two rings before you hear his voice.

“Yes, partner in crime?” His voice comes off as staticky for a moment.

“What the hell are you doin’, your mic is scuffed as hell…”

“I’m walking!” You could imagine the eyeroll Charlie would do and bite your cheek to not laugh.

“Are you with Nick?” You continue to talk but smile in greeting when the ice cream seller stops at you coming over. He says hello and you wave before looking over all the choices on the cart.

“Yes. We’re grabbing drinks right now, you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m at the park, set up the picnic – though the food is still in the basket,” You glance back at your spot and after making sure nothing seems out of the ordinary you look back at the cart. “You remember those ice cream cart things? You want something?”

It’s silent between the two of you as Charlie ponders, in the meantime you point to your desired choice and the guy nods with a smile, opening the ice cream cart before digging around in the pile of cold desserts until he finds the one you want.

“Do they-“ He cuts himself off with a chuckle and you perk up at his voice, “Do they um,” He snorts this time then sighs to calm himself, “The ones with the bubblegum eyes. I wanna try one.”

You laugh a little, thanking the ice cream man as he sets the packaged treat in your hand. “Do you want the sonic one or something?”

“Whatever you spot first or whichever is given. Oh wait- Nick-“ You zone out a bit as he speaks to the blond and point to the blue hedgehog. The ice cream man continues his search. “He said he wants the crybaby ice cream.”

“Oh god.” You sigh in adoration, tilting your head back to the clear blue sky. “Weren’t they, like, terrible the last time we tried them?”

This time you hear Nick’s cheerful voice and he scoffs, “Okay, no. That was because for some weird reason you and Darcy wanted to put warheads into the mix.”

“Thank you,” You say to the nice man, grabbing a ten and a five dollar bill as a tip out of your wallet with a smile. You then put all the treats into your bag along with the wallet, waving the man bye which he returns and goes on his merry way. Your focus goes back to the two boys. “Ah yes, I remember the part where your face went sooo red. Hilarious, I have videos I think.”

He groans in prospect and you hear muffled giggles erupt from Charlie. “Why do you do this to me?”

“What are you talking about?” You tease and he groans again.

Charlie then speaks up, sounding way closer to the phone. “Alright! We’ll see you in two-point-five seconds.” You hum in response and say your goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

You reach the blanket again, flopping on your tush and take the ice creams out, aligning them with precision on top of the picnic basket. Charlie doesn’t disappoint because not two minutes later you see two familiar figures walking down the park path, one of them pointing towards your general direction and ditching the path to the grass.

You could feel your heart pound from… nervousness or excitement? Maybe both and it makes you grin, waving at the two. They get closer and Charlie waves awkwardly with a hand that has a drink in it, to which you notice his other hand also had a drink… and one of Nick’s. The blond’s other hand is carrying headbands of some sort and a bag is hanging off his arm.

“Char told me to get these while we were in the grocery store.” Nick speaks first when they get to you, he lifts the hand with headbands. “I decided not to question it.” You raise your hands and he carefully sets the accessories in them. Ah. Barbie headbands.

“Charlie…” Your brows pinch in amusement but also bewilderment. “What have you decided?”

He chuckles mysteriously, lifting a foot off the ground to point at your hand. “Put those down and take your drink, please. My hands are freezing.”

“Oops.” You comply and take the cup. The two eventual settle down with Nick in the middle and you quietly take a nice sip of the beverages. “Thank you.”

The boys nod and you glance at Nick, noticing the shadows of bags under his eyes. It makes you frown for a second, “So, what am I doing here on this lovely day.” Before you could inquire, Nick speaks up first, eyes shutting in contentment and a pretty smile adoring his face.

You lean back on the palm of your hand, eyeing Charlie and he meets your gaze. “Can we not want to hang out with the one and only, Mr. Nick Nelson?” You speak with a teasing tone, leaning into his side. His smile goes wider and he opens his eyes to meet yours.

“You make me sound like some big shot.”

Your eyes narrow.

“Well it was hard to reach you… so…” His gaze falters along with his smile, nervously tapping the top of his cup. “Not to pressure you, you know that but Charlie and I will always be there to listen if you need it.” You poke his arm gently and you spot Charlie’s hand sliding into Nick’s.

“Yeah.” Charlie nods, squeezing their hands, “But if not, that’s fine too. Y/N and I wanted to just, relax with you. Spend some time together.”

That makes Nick let out a shaky laugh and a wobbly smile. “Thanks.” He pauses. “Really. It’s just been, crazy?” He nibbles at his bottom lip before sighing and flops on his back, leaving his cup between his crossed legs and dragging the two of you down with him – which makes you all share a laugh.

Charlie rests against his boyfriend’s chest – facing his direction and you flip onto your stomach to play with both of their soft locks. “What has?” You ask softly.

He’s silent for a bit, tapping his fingers on your back with his free hand. “I’m not sure, school? Life? …Me? There’s no exact reason, everything just seems to be crashing down in my brain and it’s annoying to say the least.” He sighs heavily, “I’m probably just having that kind of month where everything is just feels like alot.” He frowns and you move the hand in his hair down under his chin, gently squeezing his cheeks and he chuckles.

“That’s perfectly fine, it happens.” You move the hand to trail up the left side of his face and place your palm over his forehead like you’re checking his temperature and it makes Charlie join in, prodding at Nick’s neck gently.

“There’s a lot going through your life right now, perfectly understandable why it feels overwhelming and such. Thank you for talking to us about it.” Charlie speaks softly.

“Of course. I don’t,” Nick pauses, opening his eyes with a flash of worry, “I don’t want it to feel like I’m shutting you both out or anything, or if it feels like you’ve done something wrong. I feel less weird thinking I’m overreacting, haha…” The laugh comes off flat but from the reassuring smiles from his lovers, he feels at ease.

“You’re not.”

“Nuh-uh.” You and Charlie speak simultaneously, denying such thoughts. It makes Nick laugh which sounds less forceful.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to talk about everything right now since I don’t even think I’m done… accessing everything but really, thank you. You both are my anchors.” If you didn’t tear up from that, your heart definitely did. Charlie gets up off Nick, letting go of the blond’s hand and tilts his head back with his hands over his face.

“Same, Charlie.” You cover your own face and lay flat against the blanket.

“I…” Nick trails off with another laugh and he sits back up which catches both of your attention. “Can we eat though, I’m getting a little hungry.” He gives a shy smile and you also sit up.

“Oh shit, what if the ice cream melted?!” This realization has the three of you shooting towards the basket, grabbing the packaged delights and simultaneously sigh in relief. They’re not melted… yet.

“Should we just eat these first and then eat the actual lunch next?” Charlie bites back a laugh, already opening up the plastic and pulling out the bubblegum eye Sonic, wasting no time to put it in his mouth with wide adorning eyes.

You and Nick watch him in amusement before opening your own. “I wanted this lime popsicle they usually sell but there were none.” You sigh before eyeing Nick’s container of airhead ice cream. He opens the top and it reveals the swirls of… red? Or pink and green.

“That’s funny, we saw those while we were at the store. There were these coconut flavors too.” Nick reminisces, plucking the taped but wrapped in it’s own plastic wooden spoon off the side of the ice cream container.

Charlie hums before looking down at the bitten into Sonic, “Why does Sonic have green eyes? Are they actually green?”

You all stay silent.

“I thought they were black or brown?” You speak in confusion.

“Right? Even blue….” Charlie tilts his head.

“Technically all of those are correct though they turn red as well… It’s the different franchises, I guess?” Nick furrows his brows in thought, scooping into his sour treat after freeing the wooden stick and eats away, wincing here and there. You watch with amusement.

The lunch date you can say with absolute certainty was very successful. You all catch up on things that have been going on and different shows you’ve been watching. Sharing ice cream, stuffing yourselves full with your Mom’s cooking – there was even a drink war? All you knew was one minute you were nearly done with your beverage and the next it’s being tossed in Nick’s direction as you try and run away from Charlie’s retort from you getting him seconds before. Ah, can’t forget the classic kisses shared under one of the many trees at the park and the newest photos stored in your ‘Nick & Char ❤️’ album, like the picture of Charlie ‘painting’ Nick’s face with whip cream. Where the fuck did you get whip cream from? Ask your mother.

Around the time you were all packing up, a teenager around your age ran up with their four other friends and inform you there is a nice walking trail – pointing towards the area where the park path splits, one continuing into a circle around the whole field and the other going into an area with rows of trees.

“Y’think we’ll get jumpscared? Like a haunted path or something.” You joked.

“They said there’s a nice stream down the path.” Nick smirks at your joking, placing a hand on your head and you puff out your cheeks, feeling them heat up a bit.

“Ah yes, you can take a nice swim in it when I push you in there, Y/N.” Charlie hums, quick to dart his eyes away when you flip your head in his direction.

“You’re so evil to me?” You watch him with wild eyes, mouth agape and he laughs.

“Do you think we’ll actually able to get in?” Nick ponders and you flip the wild gaze to him now.

“With us three, I’m sure we can pull it off.” Charlie responds with a menacing grin, mischief all up in his eyes and you’re playing ping pong with your eyes, flitting back and forth between them.

“I’m gonna be arrested today, huh…” Your boyfriend and bestfriend just giggle like evil people.

In the end, you three didn’t get in the stream’s water but there were some fishes so you decided to feel them the crust that Charlie didn’t eat from his sandwich and take some more photos. Nick had picked Charlie up bridal-style, getting dangerously close to the water and you record it all.

“Don’t drop me!” Charlie tightens his hold around Nick, fear and excitement in his tone.

“This takes me back to the beach…” Nick ignores his boyfriend’s pleas and spins around carefully.

“Do not reminisce while I’m in your arms, please and thank you?!” He exclaims and it makes you full on laugh, an arm over your stomach while watching the whole exchange happen.

It’s not long before it turns from afternoon to evening, you three return back from the area with Nick and Charlie debating on if they saw a deer or not. Charlie saying it was definitely there and Nick saying it wasn’t there.

“Carl Grimes flashbacks…” You hum and Charlie puts you in a headlock.

“Do not. I will cry right here.” He pouts and pulls at your cheeks, ignoring your protests. Nick watches with a soft gleam in his eyes, rocking the picnic basket back and forth with a hand.

You all walk down the sidewalk side by side once Charlie lets you go, talking about random things before Nick realizes the direction you’re going.

“Are we dropping Y/N off?” He frowns.

It catches you and Charlie off guard. “What? What makes you think that?” You raise an eyebrow. Nick points ahead and your house in slowly coming up in view. Ah.

“Ah.” Charlie speaks your thought and you both share a laugh. “No, we’re not dropping her off.” Charlie stretches his arms with a grunt before eyeing the bag strapped around Nick. “You brought pajamas and clothes for tomorrow, right?”

Nick nods, pursing his lips. “Still confused about that.”

You scoff in amusement and place a hand on your forehead with an endearing smile. “Nick…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll understand soon.” Charlie gives him a thumbs up, paired with a wink before darting ahead of the two of you. Nick flicks his gaze to you in question but you put on an act and shrug.

“What he said,” You pause for a moment, eyes burning into Nick’s, “Do you like stargazing?”

He moves closer to you, closing the gap and tugs your hand in his. The question makes him look up at the sky for a moment. “Mmm. Never tried it before? What counts as stargazing? I’ve… been in the car on trips and looked out the window…?” You give him a perplexed look which he returns.

“Alright, well-“ You chuckle, “That can… technically count? I guess? Just… Yeah.” You give up midway, tugging Nick along when you get closer to the front of your house where Charlie awaits. “You’re on your phone while you’re on a date? Tsk tsk.” You tut your lips in disapproval and Charlie startles.

He rolls his eyes, flipping his phone to the two of you bounding up the steps. “I was texting Saha- oops, hold on-“ He cuts himself off, flipping the phone back around with a nervous smile.

You glance at Nick before moving your hand to cover his eyes with your other hand. He gasps in surprise but doesn’t question it any further, grinning a bit. Facing back to Charlie you mouth the word, ‘Barbie?’ and tilt your head in confusion. He nods.

“You’re silly.” You remove your hand from Nick’s face and flatten your hand, tapping Charlie’s forehead in a chopping motion. He rubs the area with a laugh and you knock on your front door.

“Did you forget your keys?” Nick giggles when you give him a look of shame.

“Maybe.”

Your Mom is quick to open the door, grinning widely. “Welcome back. Hello, Charlie and Nick.” They wave in shyness and she scoots back to let the three of you in. “What’s the plan next, soldier?” She bumps the door closed with her hip and loosely crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at you specifically.

“Gonna go in the back for about an hour…” You trail off, taking your shoes off in the most complicated way. With your feet, or the heels per-say. When you finish you take the basket from Nick and walk to the kitchen with your mom as the boys finish taking off their own shoes. “To stargaze.” You finally finish when Nick’s ears are out of reach.

She pats you on the back with approval, “Attagirl. How was lunch?”

“It was fun! We spoke a bit, ate and went down a trail.” You bounce your head to the side while listening the activities before pausing. “He seems more… energized?” Your lips purse.

“Was that a question?” She leans against the counter, one arm coming out of the self-hug and she combs her hand through your hair. You give her an awkward look and she breathes out a laugh. Tapping the crown of your forehead, she moves away to the fridge with a soft smile. “Well, if he seems to be uplifted,” She eyes you before taking out three water bottles. “That’s great news, no?” Then sets them infront of you on counter.

“You’re right but… I don’t know. I just feel like I can do more,” You huff. “But that’s dumb because of course I can’t, this has to be something Nick figures out and all I can do is support him.”

“Honey, that is doing more for him. Supporting him is the biggest help you can five someone, along with what you’re already doing. Taking him out, letting him have space to clear his mind and being a safe net. Same thing with Charlie, no?“ Her hands latch onto your shoulders and give the muscles a gentle squeeze. “I know it feels like you want to do so much more but, there’s only so much.” You tilt your head back and look up at her with a half-smile before relenting.

“You’re right.”

“A mother is always right.” She lets go and moves towards the stove, giving you a smug side eye… which you return with an unamused eyeroll.

“Yes, yes. My mother is always right. Sometimes.”

“About ninety-nine percent.”

“Ninety-five…” You lift an eyebrow and give her pointed look. She has a spoon in her hand when she looks over you and points it to her chin in thought, it’s just a bit though.

“Ninety-seven. Take it or leave it.”

You scoff in amusement before scooping up the bottles, “Whatever you say, ma’am. We’ll be outside.” She hums in understanding and you exit out the kitchen, walking into the dining room before reaching the living room where the duo waits.

“Pleasure for you to join us.” Charlie smirks and takes two of the bottles from your arms with a nod of thanks.

“Be welcomed.” Nick muses with a grin and cracks open the bottle, taking a quick refreshing sip.

“What is this speech? I hate it.” Your face scrunches up in disgust before gesturing to the sliding glass door. “Shall we?”

“Look who’s doing it now…” Charlie stares at you cheekily. You give him the finger, he returns it.

There are slides in a shoe rack near the door and you three take a pair before stepping out. Nick’s eyes widen in wonder. Your backyard has a big blanket – similar to the one from the picnic – sitting in the middle of the area that has a plot of grass and lanterns that hang off metal rods sit nicely around in the grass that have curves at the end, doing nicely as handles. What surprises you are the little bugs that fly and flicker with a yellow-green gleam in the air.

“Since when do we get fireflies?” You speak first.

“Since forever, Y/N.” Charlie poked your back and you jump, flipping around to get him back but he’s already slipped behind Nick.

“You little…”

“Ah, ah ah, you have to be nice to me.”

“Says who?” He’s being ridiculous.

“Says me. Your bestfriend.” He peaks around Nick’s side – who, mind you, is still focusing on the backyard’s look – with a teasing grin.

“I’mma beat you up.”

“No!” He lets out a laugh when you lunge towards him, twirling out of your reach and running around with you flailing behind.

It felt special to Nick. The orange-red sky turning into it’s pitch dark blue color, stars twinkling down on you three with a full moon bright. His eyes are stuck on his two partners, the fireflies swirling around them out of disturbance but still they still decorate the backyard with green-yellow hues, not ready to leave. He remembers this conversation you had in this backyard a year ago…

“Do you think fireflies come around this area?” You were sitting on a bean bag, legs tucked beneath yourself and were practically sunken into the ‘seat.’ Charlie had insisted you to put it on the concrete side of the backyard so you did and now your face is hidden behind Nick’s switch in your hands.

Speaking of who, Nick is currently soaked wet, wringing out the ends of his shirt and Charlie wraps himself up in a towel. It’s late night, pitch dark but they wanted to play with water balloons and your Mom happened to be out of the house to pick up dinner.

“Maybe…” He leans back to look at the sky. “Why? Do you like fireflies or something?” He looks back down at you. The question has you silent for a couple of beats before you set down the console. He watches you with an amused twinkle in his gaze, puffing out his chest in pride at seeing you in his sweater. Charlie had been wearing it earlier and you both traded before they brought out the balloons.

“I mean, I have never seen any so, maybe, maybe not.” You shrug, unfolding your legs and stretching them out with a groan. Your socked feet slap down against the concrete and you sit up a bit. “Don’t you think they’re kinda special though? My Mom said it’s like they’re glowing up your night, dancing around you and stuff.” You eye the floor. “Appearing on specials occasions like they know,” You lean back into the seat with a sigh, “Said that’s how she got married. Isn’t that crazy?”

Charlie purses his lips, tilting his head to the side before smiling, “Sounds magical. They’re the ‘true love’ bugs.” His smile widens into a grin.

“Exactly!” You snap your fingers with a nod, bumping your heel against the stone pavement.

“I’m sure they do appear out here though, don’t they come out at Midnight?” Charlie shivers while speaking, hugging the towel around himself tighter. You sympathize with a playful grin.

“Maybe. But well, you boys should get inside and warm up. We’ll try next time.”

“Nick! Are you gonna come and lay down?” He snaps out of his head, eyes darting to you and Charlie lying on the blanket though Charlie is trying to tap out from a leg lock you have him in.

He snorts in surprise, not missing a beat and closing the distance. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Nick! Help me~” Charlie wails before pinching your thigh, making you yelp and quickly let go.

“That is cheating!” You exclaim, rubbing your leg with a wince.

“All’s fair in war.” He snickers, reaching a hand out to Nick who takes it and sits down between you two.

It’s a nice silence between the three of you, you’re not sure who laid down first but you eventually followed. Nick has his arms wrapped around the two of you and you’ve glanced up at his face which shows contentment. You even met his gaze while peeking and it caught you off guard with how much his brown orbs were filled with much love and affection.

You reach a hand out towards Charlie and tussle at curls, making him whine in protest but lets you continue anyway. “I’m not good with constellations so you’re not gonna be getting that during this stargaze adventure.” You mumble against Nick with a laugh and it makes the other two chuckle.

“Nah, that’s alright… I’m happy with this…” You and Charlie freeze at how soft Nick’s voice sounds. Serene. Content. More than happy but not quite ecstatic. Filled with much love directed towards the two of you and it has your heart pounding.

You sit up on your elbow, making Nick’s arm slip off of you and he eyes you with suspicion. “Actually…” This would be way more comfortable on your knees so you sit up, tuck your calves beneath you and cuff Charlie’s face into your hands. It’s nearly laugh worthy of how quick his face turns a deep red and how you felt it happen under your touch.

You lean forward, careful not to face-plant into him – that would be awkward… and painful – pressing your lips against him. You both move into a soft but passionate rhythm. Your thumb brushes against his dusted cheeks, pressing hard against his lips one final time before moving back with a dazed grin.

He returns it, chuckling shyly before meeting Charlie’s intense gaze. You choke back a laugh with the swiftness of your friend sliding up a bit, hand softly cupping the side of Nick’s face and sharing their own kiss. Also very slow, and passionate. Your tilt your head up towards your house, eyeing the sliding door and sigh in relief to not see your Mom near it. By the time your gaze returns you’re meeting with the two boys staring at you with flushed faces.

“Oh my god, you’re so red.” You laugh.

“Shut up?” Charlie hands an arm over his face, probably burning up a bit more from the teasing.

The fireflies have died down, some still hanging around but you notice most are gone and a smile tugs at your lips. “Wanna go inside now?”

Charlie removes his arm with a sharp inhale and the two nod. “Do you need to bring the blanket in?” He points to the cloth when you all stand and you’re quick to shake your head.

“Nah. I’ll grab and wash it tomorrow,” You stretch your limbs, hearing some pop. “I need new bones…”

Nick sticks his tongue out in playful disgust, “That sounds horrific.”

“Wouldn’t that be crazy though? If we needed to trade in new bones when we’re old and seniors.”

“Y/N.” Charlie’s eyebrows bend and he grimaces, “Why do you come up with the most freaky scenarios.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah, like the apocalypse one from before.” Nick pitches in with a frown that falters into a smile.

You all step into the living room after you’re done turning off the lanterns and have grabbed your bottles, “Because my brain is so amazing that I just think of things you would never think of.” You make a gesture to your brain before wiggling your fingers like you’ve done a magic trick.

“Or so you say…” Charlie glances somewhere else before meeting your eyes, “Less would never think of more, shouldn’t think of.” He flicks his hand towards you, thumb and index finger out in a finger gun.

“Hey, these could be real life events soon to happen.”

“Yeah the bones theory would happen when we all become immortal.” He chuckles and you roll your eyes.

Then boom, jumpscare. Your Mom appears just as you’re settling on the couch. A screech leaves all of your mouths and she stares in shock with mild confusion and amusement.

“Hello to you three, too.” She giggles, walking over to the glass door, tugging the lock between the handle down and pulls the thick curtains down. “Enjoy stargazing?” She turns back around with a soft smile.

You three shift your gazes away. Apparently it wasn’t just you that still had the intimate moment in the back of your brain, huh? “Yeah, thanks Mom.”

If she noticed the slight awkwardness building up, she doesn’t mention it nor show it and instead clasps her hands together, “That’s wonderful! Dinner is finished so feel free to grab whatever you want. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” She fills you in on her own plan for the night which is pretty much staying in her room so you all have your own time. She then tilts her head, eyes spacing out until she perks up, “And then there’s brownies that are baking, should be finished soon. I set a timer so when you hear it please take it our for me, Y/N.”

You nod before frowning, “Why does it have to be me?” Apparently she didn’t understand from the confusion crossing her face. You then point to Charlie and Nick.

Charlie looks offended, “We are a guest?” but his tone is light.

“You practically live here? Your clothes are in my closet, mind you.” Nick and your Mom choke out a laugh while Charlie flares up, flustered.

“Nick’s are too?!”

“Which is why I included him in my pointing?!”

Two people are bickering, two people laughing at the scene. It doesn’t take long for you Mom to calm you both down, “It doesn’t matter who, it doesn’t matter if it’s all three of you. Please just don’t let them burn.” She chuckles a bit more before rubbing her hand against her collarbone to calm herself, “Have a great time. I’ll be in my room.” You all wave her ‘goodnight’ and she retreats upstairs.

You three share a silence. Then Nick speaks,

“…So what exactly are we doing? It seems you both are full of surprises today,” He wears a teasing look which makes you and Charlie look away.

“Don’t worry about it, mister. You enjoy the ride.” You talk first before nudging Charlie with your leg. “You put the movie on, I’ll go make our plates and...” You eye Nick for a moment not knowing what he should do.

“Nick, I put the backpack in Y/N’s room, could you go get it while we set up? Oh! The headbands too.” Charlie pitches in and grins at the mention of the headbands. You and Nick blink at him before standing up to dart down your own paths.

While you’re making the plates the oven timer does go off. You take a toothpick from one of the drawers, flick on the oven light, open the oven – making you flinch back from the heat – then poke the dark chocolate fudge goodness. It has baked all the way so you grab oven mitts and drag the pan of brownies out of it’s cooker, sets it on the stove and flick turn the oven off.

After making sure everything was set in the kitchen you grab two plates and exit the kitchen, back into the living room where the movie is paused on the TV right before it begins. Charlie stands up and helps grab the two plates, letting you dart back into the kitchen again for the last one just in time for Nick to return.

“Do you want drinks? We got juices, sodas, water, you name it.” You peak your head out behind the dining room wall and the two boys pause midway in putting on the barbie headbands. You bite your lip to hold back a laugh.

“Do you have that tropical mix?” Nick speaks and you nod, he points at you in affirmation of the drink then finishes adjusting the plastic accessory around his hair.

“Root beer, please.” Charlie speaks next before his eyes shine open and wide, “Do you think we can have floats…”

Your eyebrows perk up, “I think we have vanilla? But you’re not getting that till the brownies cool down.”

“Oh, they’re out? Thank Barbie.” He holds his hands up in a prayer.

You stare at him, very much unamused and he gives you a cheeky grin.

“I’ll have tropical juice for now then.”

With a thumbs up you return to the kitchen once more, grabbing three tall glass cups from the cabinet and grab the carton juice out the fridge. You fill up two cups before staring at your own. After deciding your choice of drink, you put everything away and startle while turning around and seeing Nick in the doorway.

“Sorry,” He smiles apologetically, walking up to you and grabbing the cups filled with juice that is his and Charlie’s. He catches you off guard once again, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before bounding off to the living room again.

“What the fuck.” You stand in oblivion, feeling your face heat up. You decide you won’t unpack that tonight, flicking off the kitchen light and rejoining your movie mates.

Nick and Charlie had switched spots to where the blond was in the middle like he had been all day and your boyfriend pats the free spot next to him. You comply, setting your cup on the table while sitting and you lean into Nick with a soft smile.

“You forgot this, kind ma’am.” Charlie grabs the plastic pink band and you lean forward. He puts it on carefully and leans back with a self-satisfied expression, grabbing the remote with a quite cheer. “Are we ready for the best movie night ever?”

You and Nick watch him with amusement, “Yes, Charles, we are.”

“Not Charles, I will fight you.” He shivers at the name.

“You call me Nicholas?” Nick speaks. It makes you laugh.

“It’s your real name.” He grins.

“Is Charles not your real name, Char?” You lift an eyebrow and he rolls his eyes, still wearing the grin.

“No, it is ‘Charlie “Char” Spring’.”

You let out an insufferable sigh.

“Y’know, Y/N has called me ‘Luke’ before.” Nick leans his head back with a scoff. This makes you have a full on belly laugh which makes Charlie react the same way. “Yes, yes laugh it away.” He sighs like he’s in pain.

It takes five minutes to calm down. You wipe a precious tear away, “It was on call too and he hung up. Would not answer for like, an hour.” You inhale deeply at the memory before laughing again.

“Should we start calling him Luke as a nickname?”

“Please, please don’t.” Nick squeezes the arm wrapped around Charlie’s waist with a pleading look.

“Awwe you can’t do that.” He pouts, reaching up to pinch Nick’s face.

“Dho wha?” He sounds funny with Charlie tugging at his face.

“The puppy eyed look. The doe eyes.” You bat your eyelashes at Nick when he eyes you from the corner of his eyes before rolling them.

“We’ve gone all dahy withosut this, nowh yuu wanna shtart?” Now he’s the one doing the insufferable sighing.

“It’s a daily mission.” Charlie nods, a serious expression crossing his looks – putting on an act. He then lets go and grabs the remote again, “Movie time!”

“Movie time!” You cheer afterwards.

You three are silent for a bit as the movie plays, you and Charlie cuddling into Nick. He plants soft kisses down your face and you flush a bit. Then he moves to Charlie, repeating the action, who giggles quietly and eyes Nick with a shy look. It makes you laugh under your breath and Charlie doesn’t miss it, pointing to you with a brow raised and expression saying, ‘Don’t laugh at me when you’re acting the same.’ You look away.

“Hey,” Nick suddenly speaks up and the two of you look over. “Thanks for today. It really helped calm me down…” He continues to train his eyes on the TV but his ears burn from you and Charlie giving him your undivided attention. “And reassured me about a few things…” He purses his lips.

“Reassured?” Charlie asks quietly, as if afraid to make Nick snap his mouth shut and not speak again.

Nick sucks in a breath and you shiver from his fingers crawling up your arm. You watch Charlie lift his own hand and hold the arm wrapped around him.

“Yeah. Since everything felt like it was crashing down, I don’t know. It kinda made me feel… negative? About certain stuff. Between us. Not that I’m not happy, I’m more than thankful to be with you two but just like, how you both felt towards me…” His pursed lips flatten and your brows bend at the way his eyes dim.

“Breaking up with me for example because maybe you felt neglected or such. It made me so scared to think about I stopped responding to both of your messages most of the time and barely wanted to call because you know, what if one day you just went, ‘Yeah I don’t think we should be together,’ such and such.” You both stay quiet to let him speak his mind and you hate that he ever thought such things.

When Nick stays silent you take a sharp inhale, meeting eyes with Charlie’s glossed ones. The sight breaks your heart. “Nick…” You start off carefully and he looks over to you with so much exhaust. Slowly, you cuff his face – the same way you did outside – brushing your thumbs against him cheeks. Your right hand moves down, playfully you press your thumb against his bottom lip and smile gently.

“I’m sorry that you ever felt that way. It’s far from the truth, sweetheart.” He lets out an airy chuckle and you watch with adoration. “Y’know brains come up with the craziest scenarios when you’re stressed and it’s annoying, and stupid.” You huff, left hand moving against his cheek and he leans into the touch. Your thumb and index finger latch onto his ear and you pinch it lightly. “Do you know that, that would never happen unless you came to me asking for such a thing?” You pucker out your lips.

He watches you in a daze before laughing. “Do you know that would never happen?” Then he turns to Charlie with a soft look. “And you, Char?”

Charlie rubs at his reddening eyes and inhales. He then nods, opening his mouth before faltering. You both give him and moment and he closes his eyes in frustration before heaving out a sigh. Concern is evident in both of your expressions but Charlie opens his eyes with a new look of determination, straight at Nick.

He smacks his hands against Nick’s shoulders which makes the latter’s mouth hang open in surprise. “Nick. I love you. A lot. It hurts to know that you were dealing with these emotions, but know I’m not blaming you. How could I? It’s not your fault. Never feel bad for needing to take your time to sort out your own feelings and what’s going on with yourself. We’d never blame you for that because in the end, you know we have you, right?”

Nick nods and you can see his own eyes get glossy as well. Charlie then looks at you, “I love you too, Y/N, don’t tell Tao but you’re my bestfriend.” He chuckles, wiping at his eye again and you wipe at your owns.

“Hey, he can be your guy bestfriend and we wouldn’t have to fight over titles.” You wink, before leaning to Nick and kissing him softly. “I love you both, very much so. I’m glad you were able to talk to us, Nick.”

“Was that your goal today?” He grins in a joking manner, tilting his head in the crook of Charlie’s neck while entangling his fingers with yours.

“Did it work?” Charlie sniffles a bit before laughing. You laugh as well, “This is ridiculous we’re supposed to be watching Barbie and now we’re sobbing.”

“I give up.” You throw your head back, side eyeing the TV.

“Nooo, don’t give up.” Nicks chuckles before sitting upright. “We can still watch… we should probably eat too.” He points to the lonely plates on the table.

“True.” You and Charlie agree. You three take a moment to collect yourselves with a few embarrassed laughs here and there before settling back down.

“What’s in the bag, by the way?” You gesture to the backpack under the coffee table as Charlie rewinds the movie back to the beginning. He glances down.

“Snacks.”

“It’s good.” You hum in approval, taking a bite of your food. The three of you enjoy the movie and dinner, later on making those root beer floats paired with the brownies. Charlie had explained to Nick that he was texting Sahar about the Barbie Movie and she told him she went with Imogen. Apparently, Imogen gives the movie a 2/10 because she messed up her outfit at the theaters.

“That’s terrible.” Nick stares at Charlie in shock but it doesn’t last long with the way his lips curve into a smirk, “That’s not her real rating though, is it?”

“Of course not, she loved it.” Charlie laughs.

You’ve been quiet this whole time but suddenly loll your head to face them. Nick already giving you an exasperated look when you got their attention. “Nick. Your new name in my phone is Ken Nelson.”

#.my writing #heartstopper x reader #heartstopper x f!reader #heartstopper x fem reader #heartstopper x fem!reader #i didnt do my typical ‘small text big text at the end’ its too much writing 💀#i rlly dont fully like this but !! didnt wanna keep it stuck in the drafts #again LOTTS of writing im sorry Jfhfjfke #nick and charlie x f!reader #nick and charlie x female reader #technically…#nick nelson x reader #nick nelson x female reader #nick nelson x f!reader #nick nelson x fem reader #nick nelson x fem!reader #right?

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diorkyeom · 6 months

Text

‘✷’ : CHAPTER SEVEN “the seokmin version”

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chapter word count: 5.7k+

chapter warnings: none

summary: "lately, seokmin had come to a realisation. joshua hong, seokmin thought, was a little bit of an enigma." - in which seokmin has known joshua for years, but he's always been a bit of a mystery to him. and as the days go by, he finds himself falling further and further for the enigmatic man, wanting to find out who the real Joshua Hong is behind his polite smiles and warm eyes and sweet words.

notes: every time i post a new chapter it ends up being my new favourite

"I'm leaving right away today," Seokmin declared to the literature office the moment he stepped inside after finishing his last class. "No staying late to do marking for me."

"Good for you," Yuna said drily. "Go away, then. I have fifteen students who handed in work late. And I need to mark it by tomorrow."

Hayoung groaned. "You and me both. But I actually only have three kids, so I'll probably be out in another hour or so."

Minjun stormed into the office at that moment, carrying a stack of papers and huffing. He slammed his papers down on his desk with a loud thump, drawing the attention of all the other teachers.

Yuna blinked, eyes widening at the black, inky mess. "Minjun, is that—"

"The printer," Minjun said, "is broken. Really badly. And the IT department have already fucking left. I'm gonna have to stay behind to fix it, because apparently no one else on this floor is competent enough to do it, and you're all gonna help me."

There was a beat.

"Well, I guess that's my cue to leave," Seokmin chirped, and then beamed brightly, grabbing his bag and backing out of the door. "See you guys tomorrow!"

"Lee Seokmin, you come back here!" Yuna screeched, but the door was already swinging shut, and Seokmin skipped down the hallway with a laugh, on his way to find Joshua.

It had been a few days since their late-night discussion under the streetlamp, and things were still pretty much normal between them.

Seokmin still grinned and chattered and occasionally stumbled over his words, and Joshua still nodded and listened and watched Seokmin with that soft, soft gaze, adding in his own teasing remarks and letting Seokmin ramble as much as he wanted.

Joshua was still the Seokmin version of himself, the version he put on when he and Seokmin bumped into each other at school, or when Seokmin popped over to their house to say hi to Jeonghan, or simply whenever they were in public, in broad daylight. It really must have been hard for him to switch it off, Seokmin mused, but he was okay with that.

Joshua was understandable now. He was still rippling and changing and effervescent, but Seokmin could identify what all the different colours were.

Seokmin thought briefly that maybe Joshua would never cease to be an enigma. That he’d always be confusing and elusive and endlessly pretty, all at once.

It didn't really seem like a bad thing.

He hummed to himself as he walked down the Music corridor, before poking his head into the classroom that Joshua was working in. His eyes widened, and he quietened his steps as he took in the scene before him.

Joshua was sitting at the piano in the corner of the room, a student sitting on the chair beside him, and he was going over chords and playing around with melodies for her. His voice was calm, carrying gently through the empty room as he played a few chords, spreading them out and explaining his process.

"—really, really lovely," he was saying. "Honestly, diminished seventh chords work really well, but maybe you might want to try some ninths? Something that sounds sweet and dramatic, and the arpeggios would work really well for that."

He demonstrated, improvising a melody on top of the accompaniment, and the loveliest, most delicate sound floated through the air, all pale warmth and swirling leisurely through the room, before making its way to Seokmin at the doorway.

Joshua continued to thoughtfully glide his way across the keys, eyes following the movements of his fingers, the music singing under his touch, glass-smooth and pretty and golden, and Seokmin’s eyes were wide as the melody slowly trailed away, resting still and calm under Joshua’s fingertips.

“Something like that?” Joshua suggested to the student next to him, all casual, as if Seokmin’s heart hadn’t started hammering rapidly in his chest from the display of such gorgeous sounds.

The student nodded eagerly, listening intently as Joshua began to explain the overall idea of a piece that she should aim to achieve, and that was when Seokmin decided that maybe he should wait outside of the classroom until he was finished.

Once he was out in the empty corridor, he put a hand to his forehead, sighing.

That was weird. Seokmin didn’t normally start feeling dizzy whenever he listened to Seungkwan practise his musical theatre songs, nor did his heart start racing when Soonyoung showed him the new song he’d made Jihoon compose for him. It was just music, after all. Just his friends belting out notes, sometimes nonsensically, oftentimes obnoxiously. It wasn’t anything special.

But Seokmin thought about Joshua’s eyelashes fluttering as he traced watercolour patterns across the keys, the gentle, pensive expression on his face as the shimmering softness unfolded before the silent room, the way his own heart was still beating abnormally loud in his ears simply at the memory of Joshua playing the piano.

He closed his eyes, fingers finding the strap of his shoulder bag, grasping it tight.

That hadn’t just been music. It had been something far too beautiful for words.

“Seokmin?”

Seokmin’s eyes flew open, and he turned to see Joshua leaving the classroom behind the student, who shouldered her bag and turned back round to give a last quick wave to the music teacher.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Hong! I’ll see you next week!”

Joshua smiled, returning her wave. “See you, Yerin.”

And then the girl was off, speeding out of the Music department, and Joshua turned back to Seokmin, the endeared fondness of his expression changing into something sweeter, fluffier, softer. It made Seokmin smile, in spite of himself, because that smile? That was Joshua’s ‘Seokmin Smile’.

“Shua hyung,” Seokmin greeted, shouldering his bag and pushing up his glasses in one motion, missing the way that Joshua’s eyes brightened at the greeting. “I heard you talking with that girl a few moments ago.”

Joshua hummed, popping back into his classroom for a moment to grab his bag and his coat, before promptly reemerging and walking beside Seokmin down the corridor. “Yerin’s normally very good with her compositions. She just has trouble getting the ideas in her head down onto paper, but once she cracks that, she’ll do really well.”

Seokmin grinned, nudging Joshua with his elbow. “She’ll do even better now that she has you, I just know it. You’re really good, hyung.”

“Aw, thank you,” Joshua said with a chuckle. He pushed open the doors to the Music department, letting Seokmin leave first. “I should hope so, though. I’ve been playing music for several years now. It would be a bit worrying if I wasn’t.”

“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” Seokmin insisted, half-whining, before smiling as Joshua looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “You should play something for us at some point, Shua hyung. Maybe at the next Game Night. It’d be fun!”

Joshua tilted his head, and they finally stepped through the school’s front doors, entering the cool late afternoon air. The slight breeze ruffled Joshua’s hair as he adjusted his coat in his arms, gaze sliding away from Seokmin’s and out into the distance. “You want me to play for all of you?”

Seokmin thought about it for a moment. “Maybe just for me?” he suggested. “If you’re uncomfortable with showing everyone.”

For some reason, his words made Joshua’s posture stiffen before easing a millisecond later, shoulders relaxing as he continued to look forwards, before finally his eyes found their way back to Seokmin’s.

He smiled, irises sparkling in the faint sunlight. “Maybe.”

And then he shook his head, so his hair was no longer in his eyes, bumping against Seokmin lightly with his shoulder.

“I haven’t seen you all day, though. Tell me about your day?”

Seokmin immediately brightened, leaping at the chance to ramble to his Shua hyung, launching into a full, exhaustive run-down of what had happened to him throughout the seven hours in which he’d been at work.

Joshua had gone back into full gentlemanly polite mode again, wearing his pretty, courteous colours once more, all soft cotton candy and not-quite within Seokmin’s grasp. It really did seem to be his daytime default, to infuse one of his personalities into him at all times, but Seokmin could see how they genuinely were always just Joshua too.

He cherished these moments, where it was just the two of them, walking to work or back from work or just randomly bumping into each other at night. It felt special, when no one else was around, when Jeonghan’s rippling gaze was no longer fixed on them, when Soonyoung wasn’t creating the latest distraction just within their line of sight. It was just them.

Just Joshua and Seokmin.

And Seokmin especially cherished those random night visits, where they suddenly spotted each other walking on opposite sides of the road, or where they wordlessly decided to come back to that one bench beside the river that Seokmin had first seen Joshua on his nightly walks. There was something more precious about them, more delicate, vulnerable.

Joshua was more himself, then. He smiled more easily, talked more easily, asked Seokmin questions but also answered them too, straight-on with no elusive dancing around. He was, all in all, much more comfortable when it was just them, and it was something that Seokmin felt almost honoured to witness.

With every nightly meetup, Joshua seemed to relax even more, and for reasons unknown to Seokmin, it made him feel all happy and fluttery inside whenever Joshua’s eyes softened into gold and the cotton facade all but melted away.

───────────── ‘✷,

“I get what you mean,” Seokmin said thoughtfully, pushing up his glasses as he frowned down at his own book, “but I think saying that Achilles was dealing with ‘the everyday gay traumas’ isn’t going to sit well with the examiners.”

The students laughed, and Seokmin smiled, blinking wide-eyed at them.

“Don't get me wrong, I agree wholeheartedly. If you can somehow manage to fit that analysis in with the themes in the Iliad, I'll personally bake you a cake."

There was a clamouring of noise, the students excited by the idea of being able to get sugar.

"Mr. Lee!" one boy called out. "Isn't 'love' one of the themes in the poem? Wouldn’t it be really easy, then?"

Seokmin paused, looked down at his book, and then looked up at them again. "I'll bake you a cake if it makes sense within the context of the essay question," he amended, and then waved his hand. "Okay, okay, shh! Please discuss the passage we just read with your partners. Please don't make me talk about baking cakes. I'm not very good at it."

"Oh, come on, Mr. Lee! That can't be true!"

“My sister once set the oven on fire while baking a cake!”

“Can I bake a cake for you instead, Mr. Lee?”

"Mr. Lee! What's your favourite cake flavour?"

"Please just finish this task," Seokmin begged, half jokingly, tapping his pencil against his copy of the Iliad. "If I talk about cake, I'm gonna want to have some when I leave work."

"Why is that a bad thing, sir?"

A phone alarm went off, and Seokmin looked over at his desk, turning off the alarm, before looking back at the students and snapping his book shut. “Oh, dear, looks like that’s the end of my book study session. You guys have to go home now, without finishing the incredibly riveting extract analysis task I prepared for you.”

There were varying degrees of cheers throughout the room, and Seokmin smiled and shook his head.

“I am, however, going to be setting it as a mini task for you to complete for next week’s session, okay? Because we were meant to do it today, but we had no time.” And then he waved his hand at them, gesturing for them to quickly leave. “Now shoo. Go home and rest. I’ll see you all later.”

There were choruses of “goodbye”s and “thank you”s as the students left, and Seokmin watched them go with a slight fondness on his face.

Hayoung had asked if he’d be willing to start a book study session for the literature students who were in their last year of high school, and of course, Seokmin had been more than eager to say yes. It was a session that included a mixture of his, Hayoung’s and Minjun’s students, since they were the teachers with classes for the older years, and Seokmin had taught all of these students at least once during their time at school. Of course he was going to say yes to giving them study sessions so they could do their best in their upcoming exams.

What could he say? He had a soft spot for memories.

Once the last student had exited the room, Seokmin gave a soft sigh, pushing up his glasses and sat down at his desk, checking his phone, and then tilting his head at the text that flashed up on his screen.

[ jihoon hyung !! ]

your demo sounds incredible by the way

it’s been finalised and everything and the other producer really likes it too

you could seriously have a career in singing if you wanted, seokmin.

Seokmin shook his head, scrunching his nose to prevent his glasses from sliding down. He sent a quick “i’m glad it’s been approved!!” back to Jihoon, but just smiled at the last message, setting down his phone and standing up once again, pushing up his glasses with a finger. Maybe he needed new glasses. These ones weren’t sitting properly.

He hummed to himself as he began to tidy away the room, adjusting chairs and tucking back the curtains, the melody of Jihoon’s new song finding its way inside his head.

‘To You’, the song was called, and Seokmin was certain that it was one of Jihoon’s most heart-wrenchingly beautiful songs to date. Shining, warm, hopeful and romantic, and also utterly wonderful to sing aloud.

The room was entirely empty, and Seokmin’s voice steadily grew louder as he sang along to the melody inside his head, spraying the whiteboard with a cleaning spray and then wiping it down.

In this swirling day

You’ve given me a small piece of happiness

You’ve given me all the smiles of the world in my hands

So even if I run out of breath on a steep road

Even when I lost my path on a cold day

We’re still holding hands with warmth

Seokmin paused then, the main melody echoing around in his brain as he gripped the cleaning spray dramatically as if it were his mic, and belted out the ad-libs and countermelodies, pouring his heart out into the harmonies that, in the safety of the empty classroom, no one would hear but him.

To you, to you

The story I wanted to express

To you, to you

I want to say more things like this

Oh-oh, in this swirling wind on this day

If an eternal love exists

Then that is what you are.

Slowly, dramatically, still basking in the heartfelt afterglow of Jihoon’s incredible new song, Seokmin lowered the cleaning spray and lowered his head, scrunching his nose so that his glasses didn’t slip off.

It was a beautiful song, about loving someone who was understanding, gentle, caring, even when they didn’t say a word. About being loved in the most precious way.

“Seokmin?”

Seokmin flinched sharply at the sudden voice, so suddenly that he squeezed the spray too hard and sprayed himself in the knee. “Oh, shit!”

He whipped around, looking around the classroom to see who had come in and hoping against all hope that they hadn’t heard him singing, only to see—

“Shua hyung?”

Joshua was leaning against the wall at the back of the classroom, smiling. He stepped away from the wall when Seokmin turned around, and his eyes were glowing with something so, so gentle as he walked through the tables to get to where he was standing. “Hello.”

“Um.” Seokmin stood there, awkward, attempting to smile and give a wave. “Hi? How long have you been standing there?”

“Sorry, I came in halfway through,” Joshua said, chuckling a little. “I came here to, you know, walk home with you. And I didn’t want to interrupt your singing session, so I was just kind of standing at the back by the door, waiting for you to finish.”

Seokmin looked down at his hands and then hastily set everything back on the desk, wiping his knee. “Oh. I see.”

“Wait, let me help you with that,” Joshua said, noticing the wet patch and immediately grabbing a few tissues, before kneeling down in front of Seokmin to press the tissues against the spot. “Sorry, I guess I startled you a lot, huh?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just a scaredy cat. Plus, when I sing I sound really, uh, weird.” Seokmin swallowed, his earlier surprise at Joshua’s sudden appearance now beginning to wear off. But as Joshua looked up at him, eyes caramel gentle in the light of the afternoon, he wondered vaguely why his heart was still beating so fast.

Joshua rose to his feet so he was eye level with Seokmin. “You sounded so pretty,” he said, and he said it so sweetly and so honestly that Seokmin found himself blinking rapidly, cheeks heating up almost instantly. “The song sounded so nice. You have such a beautiful voice, Seokmin.”

There was a definite blush on Seokmin’s face now, the embarrassing kind of blush that went from his ears right down his neck, and also rendered him absolutely incoherent. Joshua was still smiling at him too, damnit, and it made it all the more difficult for him to focus on scrabbling a few syllables together to give a response.

“It’s not mine,” he blurted out, a little too loudly, and Joshua blinked in surprise.

“Not… yours?” Joshua’s brow creased in confusion.

“The song,” Seokmin elaborated, and then scrambled for his phone to unlock it and bring up an audio file. “It’s Jihoon hyung’s. He’s made a new song, and he asked me to record the demo for it.”

Joshua’s eyes widened at that, amazed. “You’re the person that Jihoon asked to sing in his demo? Do you know how incredible that is, Seokmin?”

Seokmin shrugged, bashful. “Not that incredible? It’s just a demo, anyway. Hyung offered to pay me, but I said it’s okay.”

Joshua shook his head. “That’s still amazing. Jihoon never lets people look at his things until they’re finalised.” He looked down at the audio file on Seokmin’s phone, the cover-less ‘To You’ file staring up at him. And then he looked at Seokmin with a small smile. “Could I… listen to it?”

Seokmin stared at Joshua for a long, long moment. Joshua smiled back, and it occurred to Seokmin that the elder was smiling more and more these days, his face becoming more relaxed, his eyes more willing to curve into their pretty little crescents at the things that Seokmin said.

And then he decided, oh, what the hell. If his Shua hyung wanted to listen to it, then Seokmin would let him listen to it.

So he sat down on the floor and beckoned Joshua to sit next to him, and then pressed play.

It was the first recording that he’d done, running straight through after practicing the melody a few times with Jihoon, and his pitch was off in some places and he came in late in others, but Joshua listened intently, eyes fixed on a random spot on the floor as Seokmin’s voice rang out through the speakers of his phone. Seokmin wanted to cringe, wanted to turn off the audio and wrench his phone away because it was embarrassing, especially when it was Joshua listening, but every so often the elder would lift his eyes up to look at him, and his eyes would be so wide and awed that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything else but stare right back.

The recording finally finished, and Joshua sat back, pressing his lips together. Seokmin watched him, anxiously, finding that he really was nervous of what Joshua’s opinion was.

“Pretty,” Joshua said simply, and then his face softened even further as he smiled. “It all sounds so pretty.”

Seokmin blushed again, looking away, pleased. “Really?”

“Yeah! I really love how your voice sounds, and I think this type of song suits it really well,” Joshua said, and Seokmin’s heart swelled with something warm and pink and happy. “I love the song, too. I want to learn the chords so I can play it.”

“Jihoon hyung will be happy to hear that you love his song,” Seokmin said, beaming. “You can ask him for the finalised audio once he manages to get the boy group to record it, if you want. I’m sure he’ll be willing to give it to you.”

Joshua just hummed, tilting his head. “I don't know. I think I like the Seokmin version better.”

“The Seokmin version?” Seokmin repeated, biting his lips to prevent himself from smiling too widely. It sounded… nice, when Joshua said it like that. Like Seokmin’s recording had meaning.

“The Seokmin version,” Joshua confirmed. He nudged Seokmin with his elbow. “Hey, maybe this can be the piece that I play for you one day. Maybe you can sing with me too. How about that?”

Seokmin couldn’t help it. He beamed, the giddy happiness evident all over hstopped biting his lips and beamed, and the giddy happiness was evident all over his face but he couldn’t help it, knew nothing would be able to prevent him from grinning widely, oddly thrilled at the idea of having some sort of singing duet with Joshua.

“I think I’d like that a lot.”

───────────── ‘✷,

“I don’t think I like that. At all,” Seokmin sulked, and Soonyoung sighed.

“Seokmin, you made this demo. Demo. It’s an example piece that’s gonna be heard by loads of people! It’s literally what it’s designed to do. Be heard.” Soonyoung stabbed a finger on the table, and then pointed at Jihoon’s laptop. “Your voice is gonna be heard by so many people, and you’re not gonna know most of them. But that’s what’s meant to happen.”

Seokmin shuddered, displeased, and Jihoon tapped his fingers against his laptop. “I don’t think you’re helping the situation, Soonyoung.”

“But he needs to know!” Soonyoung protested as Jihoon just shook his head.

“Seokmin,” Jihoon started, “You’re willing to let Soonyoung hear it, yes?”

Currently, Jihoon, Soonyoung and Seokmin were sitting at the dining table in the latter two’s apartment, and Jihoon was playing the demo for them all to hear, Soonyoung was talking incredibly loudly and Seokmin was sulking.

He crossed his arms, pouted, and avoided their gaze. “I guess,” Seokmin muttered dejectedly. “Didn’t know that so many other people would hear it too.”

“Seokmin, it’s meant to be heard—”

“We’ll only let the relevant people hear it, obviously,” Jihoon said, talking over Soonyoung. “So that’ll be me, the other producers, Soonyoung, and the idols. Is that okay?”

“Also any other choreographers they bring in—”

“Is that okay?” Jihoon repeated, pointedly ignoring Soonyoung, making the choreographer huff petulantly. The other kept his eyes on Seokmin, however, calm and patient. “We won’t do anything that you’re not comfortable with. We won’t show it to anyone, if you don’t want to.”

“Actually, we kind of have to, ‘cause that’s what a demo is for,” Soonyoung said, before Jihoon shot a glare in his direction and he widened his eyes innocently. “What? I’m right!”

Seokmin shook his head, putting his elbows on the table and squishing his cheek against his palm. “I suppose that it’s true,” he said. “I just… I’m still not sure if I was all that good.”

Soonyoung smiled sympathetically. “You have really bad self-esteem issues, Seokmin. Your voice is so, so incredible.”

Instantly, Seokmin’s brain conjured up a memory of Joshua’s earnest smile and that gentle, melodic voice saying “You have such a beautiful voice” all golden and lovely and he blushed, rapidly dispelling the thoughts before they showed on his face.

“But other than the people at the company, we won’t show anyone else,” Jihoon promised, giving Seokmin a small, reassuring smile. “In fact, you don’t have to show anyone else either. No one in our friendship group even has to know.”

“Okay,” Seokmin said, and then smiled a little. It was touching, how sincere Jihoon was being about all of this. And then his eyes widened. “Wait, but if I do tell someone, like, right now, is that okay?”

Jihoon blinked, and then frowned. “Um, technically no, but if it’s someone in our group then we can tell them not to talk about it anywhere.”

“Why do you ask?” Soonyoung added. “Did you show it to someone?”

Seokmin took his elbows off the table, nodding. “Just Shua hyung. He heard me singing, so I showed the recording to him.”

Soonyoung blinked. “Shua hyung?”

“Joshua hyung,” Seokmin said helpfully. “It’s a nickname for him.”

“No, I got that part. It’s just…” Soonyoung trailed off, and he and Jihoon shared a significant look, one that Seokmin couldn’t decipher. “Anyways, that’s okay. Just tell him not to tell anyone else, you know?”

“Moving on, though,” Jihoon said, swiftly changing the subject, a slight twinkle in his irises, “I have another track I’m making right now, Seokmin, and I was wondering…”

“Oh, hell no. One is enough for me. Get Seungkwan to do it!”

───────────── ‘✷,

Seokmin flopped down onto the sofa, breathing out contentedly as he wriggled around amongst the mess of cushions until he was more comfortable.

“Ah, this is so nice.”

“I’m so glad to see you making yourself at home on my sofa,” Jeonghan remarked drily, coming into the room carrying a plate of biscuits. “Also, move over or I’m not giving you any cookies.”

“Cookies!” Immediately, Seokmin shot upright again, zeroing in on the plate as Jeonghan set it on the coffee table, grabbing one and stuffing it into his mouth. Around the mouthful of crumbs, he said, “Thanks, Jeonghan hyung!”

Jeonghan just laughed, selecting his own biscuit and curling up on the sofa. “Of course, Seokmin. I love feeding my cookie-loving gremlin every time he decides to barge into my house and steal all my snacks.” Before Seokmin had a chance to protest at the description, he shoved another biscuit into the teacher’s hands. “Anyways, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Just ‘cause,” Seokmin said brightly. “Also Soonyoung hyung’s at the studio, and being at home by myself is so boring.”

“I’m being your surrogate roommate, hm?” Jeonghan teased. “Well, you’re in luck, because my housemate has disappeared too. Joshuji’s at church, so it’s just only lonely me, all by myself.”

“Not anymore, though!” Seokmin chirped, and then threw himself into Jeonghan’s personal space, cuddling up against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jeonghan hyung! Seokminnie is here!”

Jeonghan laughed and let Seokmin squish himself into his side. “Lucky me.”

There was a short silence then, as Seokmin squashed himself as close to Jeonghan as possible, and Jeonghan focused on nibbling his way through his biscuit. It was a lazy day, a calm day, but Seokmin’s thoughts were running, racing through conversation threads even as Jeonghan seemed content to just sit in silence for hours until Seokmin decided to go home.

But Seokmin couldn’t go home without at least trying to talk Jeonghan’s ear off.

“I’m gonna set my seniors an essay on the Iliad next week,” he said suddenly, his brain latching onto any old thought thread it could find and running with it.

Jeonghan laughed. “Your students are going to love you for that.”

“They will!” Seokmin insisted, pulling away from Jeonghan’s side to sit up properly. “It’s on the theme of ‘love’. They’re all obsessed with that theme in this book. Which is weird,” he added thoughtfully, “because I thought that they’d be more interested in the war and the anger and the moral struggles in it.”

Jeonghan shrugged, leaning back and gesturing dramatically with his half-eaten cookie. “What is love if not the biggest moral struggle of all?”

Seokmin laughed, flopping back down so his head was resting on the armrest, nestled amongst the cushions once more. “You’re right, though. Especially with Aphrodite being the main cause of the Trojan War. She’s basically the reason behind all their problems.”

“Really?” Jeonghan said. “And I thought the goddess of love was meant to be kind.”

“Kind?” Seokmin repeated. “She’s horrible. Unpredictable. Definitely an inconvenience, and mostly a nuisance.” He paused, and then continued, “But that’s what love is, I guess. You can’t pin down love. Sometimes it’s beautiful, and other times it’s painful, almost heart-wrenchingly so, and you can never be prepared for it.”

Jeonghan watched Seokmin talk, an almost parental fondness colouring his gaze, like a mother watching her child explain something they were incredibly passionate about.

“Love is often confusing, too,” Seokmin said. He wasn’t looking at Jeonghan anymore, directing most of his thoughtful musings to the ceiling, hands waving around. “And can be confused. With desire, lust, anger, hatred. There’s a very fine line, you know?” He lifted his head up to look at Jeonghan. “Maybe that’s why love and war are such prominent themes in the poem.”

Jeonghan just smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah! Loving brings a desire for safety, for comfort, and sometimes, people can be so desperately in love that they’ll do anything to have that comfort,” Seokmin said. “And other times—well, most of the time—people are willing to be soft for that love. They turn soft, craving that gentleness and reflecting it in the way they act around the person they most want to be loved by. And if that person disappears… well, then you harden your heart, and find you don’t want to love anyone ever again.” Seokmin clasped his hands together. “That’s what Achilles does, by the way.”

“Wow. That’s so fascinating,” Jeonghan said, nibbling at his cookie again. “Tell me more.”

And Seokmin did. It was nice, to analyse aloud, but also to analyse aloud with Jeonghan. The elder didn’t provide much to the conversation, simply sitting there and smiling and asking Seokmin to tell him more, but it was nice.

It made his thoughts drift to Joshua, just momentarily. Thinking of how Joshua would have listened to him talk. Of how Joshua’s eyes would have followed his every move, how he would have smiled and hummed interestedly and let Seokmin talk, and talk, and talk, and talk.

An hour later, Seokmin was still talking, and as Jeonghan continued to blink unmovingly at him, he wondered whether the elder had managed to fall asleep with his eyes open.

“—so I think it’s only logical that Seungcheol hyung is Zeus,” Seokmin finished. “Jupiter. He’s a scary, scary guy, but also everyone loves him and knows about him ‘cause he’s so huge.”

Then Jeonghan’s head turned. “Okay, are you talking about the god or the planet here?” he asked. Definitely not sleeping, then, Seokmin concluded, pleased. That meant his entire rant about which god each of their friends were hadn’t gone unheard.

“Both,” Seokmin said cheerfully. “Seungcheol hyung is both the planet Jupiter and the god!”

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning back. “If you say so.” He pursed his lips, thinking, and then tapped Seokmin on the knee. “You’re the sun god for sure, though.”

“Who, me?” Seokmin tilted his head, and then beamed. “Aw, thanks hyung. Also, did you know that Apollo is the only god of the classic pantheon to have the same name in both Greek and Roman mythology?”

Jeonghan smiled. “I don’t know what that means. I do know, however,” he added, “that you’re as bright and lovely as the sun, and fill up the entire room with light the moment you walk inside. Everyone gravitates towards you, attracted by your energy, and people always love being with you.”

Seokmin blinked, not expecting such a sudden onslaught of compliments from Jeonghan. “Really? You really think so?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan’s smile turned a little knowing, a little devious, eyes glittering like ripple waves on a lake. “And you know what you said about love before? I think the Sun would want a gentle love. Where someone softens themselves in the Sun’s presence.”

Seokmin hummed contemplatively, sitting up. “A gentle love? Who’d love the Sun like that, though?”

“A Venus,” Jeonghan said, smiling wider. “I think the Sun would be best loved by a Venus.”

That made Seokmin pause, frowning thoughtfully, before a slow smile spread across his face. “I like your thinking, hyung! I guess you really were listening to me while I was talking, huh? I’m impressed.”

Jeonghan pointedly ignored the jab, and simply shrugged. “The Sun would love Venus very much, too,” he said. “And the Venus would love you as easily as breathing. Because Venus is basically the god of love, right? They’d love you a lot.”

Seokmin blinked once, and then twice, before his eyes widened. “Wait, are you still talking about me? I thought you were doing general analysis!”

“I’m talking about anything you want me to talk about,” Jeonghan returned, adjusting himself on the sofa. His ass was starting to hurt from sitting in the same position for too long. “But I think the Sun would dote on the Venus and think they’re incredible, and the Venus would love the Sun immensely and devastatingly gently.”

Seokmin’s face was contemplative for a moment, thinking over Jeonghan’s words. Jeonghan could almost see him trying to figure out what was going on, what Jeonghan meant, where all this was going. Eventually, though, he seemed to give up, his gaze becoming unfocused and the corners of his lips turning wistful as he wondered.

Jeonghan wondered who Seokmin was thinking about.

“Do you really think so?” Seokmin asked, turning to Jeonghan, and his eyes were wide, voice hushed, like he couldn’t even believe it.

At that moment, the front door opened, and there were a few moments of rustling sounds before Joshua peered into the living room, back home from visiting the church, and Jeonghan watched as Joshua’s eyes softened almost instantly and Seokmin’s entire being lit up as they made eye contact, and he smiled to himself.

“Yeah,” he said, but no one was listening to him anymore. Joshua and Seokmin were already in their own world, as Seokmin leapt from the sofa to bound over and ask the elder about his day. Jeonghan just smiled even wider. “I do think so.”

taglist (send ask to be added): @fairyhaos @atinycupofpositivitea @my-moarmy-heart @weird-life-of-a-closet-fangirl @lilsafsafbooyah @stqrrgirle @bittersweet-folder @weird-bookworm @ultrara-re @tianakings @bangantokchy @tiinkerbell @ahuiahoe @leigh-darling

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

Note

Seeing the new greeting message from jin made me think of the tlods couple 🥹 imagine it's mother's day but he had to go on a bussiness trip so he ordered a hundred rose flower bouquet for OC but it's missing one rose. Oc thought the store made a little mistake and when seokjin called her later in the night he's holding a single rose and told her that he'd deliver the missing rose to her when he gets home from the trip 🥰

tags/warnings: kissing; suggestive

A/N: This was too cute to pass up. Missing Jin hours everyday! I hope you enjoy this one. 🥰 Pls also check #Extras:TLODS for the previous drabbles!

The Light of Dead Stars Masterlist

“Delivery for Mrs. Kim.”

You’d chuckle if it wasn’t rude, but only because the small-statured woman standing at your doorstep has her entire face covered by the huge bouquet of roses so it looks like they can actually talk. She’s almost cradling them, and you’re too stunned at the velvety red color that she has to ask if you’re Mrs. Kim in the absence of a response.

“Oh yes, that’s me,” you finally say, taking the flowers from her and inhaling their sweet, luscious smell.

“That’s our best variety. And one of our most expensive, too,” the woman smiles. “Your husband really wants you to feel special.”

“He does that all the time,” you smile back, signing the paper she hands out to you then bidding her goodbye.

You walk towards the kitchen and place the bouquet on the counter, admiring just how stunning it looks. The flowers look so classic and elegant, and the giddiness at the thought of your husband making sure you get something from him this Mother’s Day even if he’s miles away makes your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Eomma, flowews!” Sena squeals from her high chair, as you’d just finished feeding her lunch.

Her smile is as sweet as her father’s, with her plump cheeks and bright eyes. It makes you miss him more when he’s on a business trip that takes weeks.

“Yes, Princess. They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

She nods and surprisingly patiently watches as you take the card with a note in front that says to the loveliest, most gorgeous wife and mother in the whole world who’s so lucky to have married me.

You laugh at the words, imagining Jin saying them theatrically like he would.

You open it and smile even more.

A rose for every hour of the day that I love you, the card says. Twenty-four hours isn’t actually enough but know that I love you hard during each one. Thank you for agreeing to do this crazy journey of parenthood with me, as if marrying me wasn’t a headache enough. You’ve given me the best gift there is. Sena is as bright, and loving, and charming (this is mostly because of me though) because of you. Happy Mother’s Day. I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you.

True to form, you laugh and smile as you read his almost-love letter. You know he tends to mask his emotions with humor and you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. You do agree that marrying him is a headache sometimes, but you also can’t imagine your life turning out any differently. You love him just as much, more than you can actually really say.

“Will you help me put these in vases, Sena?” You turn to the little one.

“Yes!” She chirps.

You decide to get 2 vases before pulling her from her chair and sitting her on the counter, with her excitedly observing the flowers that you’re unwrapping. You let her smell them then give her one to put on the vase that you’ve filled with water. Sena hugs it though, not wanting to let it go.

“Eomma, it’s pwetty like me!” She says.

“Yes it is, Princess,” you laugh, knowing exactly where she got that from.

Her father would always say it about himself; you know he’s come to tell Sena that she’s as pretty as many things, too - flowers, for one. And especially the moon.

“Now, could you help eomma put these inside the vases and count them for me?” You ask, wanting her to practice her numbers whenever she can.

She nods ecstatically and places the one she’s holding inside the glass container. You give her a piece right after doing so, counting with her as she goes.

“23!” She squeals, smiling brightly as she refuses to put away the supposed last stem. “I did it, eomma!”

“You did, my sweet little girl,” you say, booping her nose before giving her a kiss. “Now, appa said there should be 24 in here so there’s one missing. Let me just call the shop and make sure, okay?”

You’re about to search up the store’s number when your phone rings, the photo of Sena pulling Jin’s hair while he winces in pain appearing on the screen.

You greet your husband with a smile and it widens once you see it matches yours. He loves his job but being apart is always the hardest; you know he looks forward to these calls just as much as you do.

“Did you like my surprise? I’m quite the romantic, aren’t I?” He smirks.

“I did, and you are. Quite cocky, too,” you chuckle. “But thank you, love. They’re really beautiful; Sena thinks they’re as pretty as her.”

“She’s obviously prettier but I’m glad she’s learning how to be confident,” he laughs. “How does it look? And can I see her?”

You turn the camera to show him the flowers inside the vases, saying you want to put one in the kitchen and one in your bedroom. Sena says hi to him but is too preoccupied with her rose to have a conversation.

“They do look nice,” he hums in satisfaction.

“Yes. They’re also incomplete,” you inform him. “I’m guessing they should be 2 dozens because of your very on-brand note but they’re just 23. Perhaps the store forgot it?”

“Actually… no,” he hums. “I have the last one here.”

And just as he says, he shows you the 24th stem of rose, velvet red and luscious like the ones in front of you.

“So, uh, why is it with you?” You ask.

“I thought I deserved one, too, since I’m part of the reason why you’re a mother,” he shrugs, causing you to laugh exasperatedly because sometimes, you really don’t know why you married this man.

“I’m kidding, babe,” he laughs now, enjoying your slightly annoyed face. “I mean, that’s true but I just wanted another bit of surprise.”

“The surprise being that I expected 24 but only got 23 because you’re such a pain in the ass?”

“Not in front of our child!” He gasps dramatically. “But no, not really. I want you to look forward to something when I arrive in a few days.”

“Kim Seokjin, you give me a headache everyday but I love you and I always look forward to seeing you. That’s all I need - for you to come home safely and then make it up to me for being away.”

At your words, he blushes. He can’t deny that much as he hates having to leave his family regularly because of his job, he does enjoy the welcome home sex you both have every time.

“And I will, I promise,” he smiles softly now. “I just felt like being dramatic, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised,” you playfully shake your head. “But thank you again. You know I love being a mother and a big reason is you. You make it so fun and so fulfilling. Sena’s just as lucky to have you as her father.”

You don’t miss the longing in his eyes. You know it’s times like now when he feels bad because he thinks he’s away too much, leaving you to take care of Sena on your own. You always understood what’s required of him, and you never complained; being with your daughter is an adventure on its own, and you want nothing more than for your husband to know that despite all the challenges of parenthood and of his job, you don’t want anything else other than the life you both have now. He makes up for everything all the time; sometimes more.

“Well, I’ve got a meeting to prepare for,” he says guiltily. “I’ll call you again, okay? And don’t worry, the last rose will be even prettier than those because I’ll hand deliver it to you.”

You get another laugh in before giving the phone to Sena who now wants to tell him about your morning at the park, and much as you know that Jin absolutely needs to prepare for his meeting tonight, there’s no doubt that he’d give all his attention to his daughter when she asks for it.

It’s another half hour before you and your daughter finally put down the phone, and the scent of the flowers overtaking your home reminds you that no matter the distance, Jin will always be around to remind you how love is supposed to feel like.

You mentally count the days until your husband gets home, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of his hug and his expert hands massaging the sore parts of your body. You love product evaluations, but you spend too much time on your feet; your brain goes overdrive that headaches are immediate and constant.

Two more nights and you’ll get to see him again, you sigh to yourself. You decide to give your team another break, knowing that this is mentally draining for them as well. You remove your coat and head towards your office, wanting to sneak in a power nap before getting back to work.

Your eyes widen once you get to your desk and see a red rose laying on top of it. It’s bigger, more luscious, deeper in color and somehow more majestic than the ones you received 3 days ago. You inhale its scent and smile dreamily, knowing that Jin really made sure to give you something breathtakingly beautiful like this.

“You like it?”

Your husband’s voice causes you to curse in surprise, even more when you turn around to see him leaning by the wall.

“Oh god, Jin. You scared me,” you scowl, prompting him to laugh.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he shrugs, closing the door then flicking the switch that shuts your blinds for privacy.

He stands in the middle of the room, donned in a black 3-piece suit with his hands in his pockets, looking stunning as always.

“Well, I was surprised. I thought you won’t be back until the weekend,” you say.

“One meeting was canceled so I just moved up the other one so I could get home right away,” he explains, walking towards you now.

You mindlessly step back until you’re leaning on the edge of your table, ultimately getting caged by him. He smells so good, and he might’ve just come from a flight but your husband looks fresh and gorgeous, unlike you who probably reeks of onion and spices.

“I spent Mother’s Day away from you and I wanted to make it up to you as soon as possible,” he continues, his eyes turning lustful as he inches closer to you.

“Well you could, back home,” you chuckle, swallowing hard as you see him eye your lips.

“I could also do it now,” he counters, smirking before he crashes his mouth onto yours, his soft lips and skillful tongue rendering you speechless and pliant.

You submit immediately, moaning against his lips until you catch yourself and pull back. He doesn’t relent though, as he takes the chance to move down your neck, staying there so he could plant open-mouthed kisses all over it.

“Jin,” you moan, missing the way he feels, especially with his hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. “I know you run this company but, uh, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“My father won’t fire me,” he hums against your skin.

“He could,” you answer back, drawing in a breath once he hits that sensitive spot of yours. “Or he could fire me. Or both of us. You’ll never know.”

Jin doesn’t want to argue. He also knows you’re right. You’ve both never been bold at the office, not wanting to take advantage of either of your positions to do something clearly unprofessional, so he pulls back, only to lean his forehead against yours, his nose tenderly caressing yours.

“I just missed you. But yes, I should stop. And do everything I want to do to you back home.”

“That would be preferable,” you laugh, softly kissing his lips before you fix his wrinkled suit.

“The rose is beautiful, Jin. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a different variety and it stood out to me when I dropped by the store earlier.”

“I’m sure Sena would love this, too.”

He smiles at the thought of your daughter. He’s missed her terribly, too. He called last night and she read him one of her books. She couldn’t read everything so she made up her own fairytale and it was the most adorable thing. It seemed like a normal occurrence to you, though. It may seem sad, but he thinks it’s special that you let him experience the joy of being a parent on his own without forcing it, without making him feel like he’s lacking or missing out on too many things. Sena adores you, but she adores him just as much. You’re a superwoman in so many ways and he really lucked out in marrying you.

“So, I have this conference in LA in 3 weeks. I was thinking maybe you and Sena can join me? We can extend the trip to spend a few days in Disneyland,” he says. “She’s probably big enough for a long-haul flight, yeah?”

“She is,” you smile, liking the sound of joining him for a business trip with your daughter. “I think she’d love that.”

“Okay, good,” he smiles. “I had Yoongi buy a Minnie Mouse headband when we were in Japan so we could surprise her.”

“Are you serious? I’m sure he cussed you out when you asked him to.”

“Well, he actually had a free day and decided to go there himself,” Jin hums.

“Well of course. Dara loves Disneyland,” you laugh, feeling giddy at how Yoongi had softened because of your best friend.

“Ah, I should’ve known,” Jin laughs. “It’s what gave me the idea so I had him buy some stuff. Now I can’t wait to tell Sena.”

“She’ll be so excited, love. And thank you, again,” you say, glancing at the rose before pulling him for a kiss. “I hope you know I’m a good mother because you’re an amazing partner. I can’t do this without you.”

“Yah, stop being so sweet to me or else I’m gonna want another baby!”

You stare at him in shock but his pouty face tells you he seems serious.

“That’s a conversation for another day, yeah?” You manage to say, not having considered having another child this soon.

But later on when you both get home and he peppers Sena with kisses, and when he surprises her with the news, and when he falls asleep with her lying on top of his chest after he’d just sang her her favorite lullaby, you start to think that maybe having another little one wouldn’t be so bad.

#seokjin fluff #extras:tlods

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luveline · 2 years

Note

Hello!!! If you feel like it could you maybe do a little Drabble for Remus or Peter x reader where reader needs glasses but doesn’t like how any look on her and it’s really fluffy?

Thanks love

Hi! thanks for ur request, i hope this is alright! <3

Remus frowns at you from where he's standing in the kitchen. You're squinting again. He wants to say, Dovey, you be careful the wind doesn't blow. You'll be stuck like that forever.

You admit defeat and slide your glasses on, looking shame-faced and worse, embarrassed where you sit watching TV. He takes the lid off of the saucepan and gathers a big spoonful of stew for you to try, hand under the metal to catch any drops. He walks it to where you're sitting and you smile at him sheepishly, looking like you might take your glasses off if he allows you the time.

He doesn't, brandishing the spoon at you enthusiastically. "Try this."

You open your mouth and let him feed you. It takes you a second to gather your thoughts. "Still tastes like red wine."

"Bad?" he asks.

"No, I kinda like it," you admit, the beginnings of a smile on your lips.

He dips down to kiss you quickly and finds you taste like wine, too. He puts the discarded spoon on the table for a moment. Hands now free, he breaks the kiss and puts them on your shoulders in what he hopes is a comforting, assuring touch. You twist back to the TV.

"What are you watching, lovely?" he asks warmly, leaning down.

"Uh, it's a David Attenborough thing. Are you done soon?"

"I'm done now," he says. "It just needs to simmer."

You turn around again to smile at him. He can't help it, he goes in for another kiss. You just look so pretty, all earnest, happy and light. It's a short peck, he pulls back to tap his nose into yours. "Budge up, beautiful."

You go warm in the cheeks, sliding over on the two seater so he can climb over the back and press his side into yours. He's all over you, he's not ashamed to admit that, rubbing his face into your shoulder. You look down at him with a heart bending fondness, your eyes wide.

"You're so pretty," he whispers.

"Remus." You scowl at him. "You're so obvious."

"You're really fucking pretty."

You turn your head so he can't see your face. He hates that, sitting up so he can turn you right back with gentle hands.

"You're the loveliest girl I've ever seen," he says.

He can see on your face how you know he's being completely honest. Maybe you don't believe it, but the softness that touches your eyes, your lips - you know he believes it to be true, and he's glad for it.

"Remus."

"Dovey."

A burst of nervous giggles. You throw yourself backwards and away from his gaze, taking the glasses from your face abruptly. He's quick, he climbs up, pulls your legs between his to pin you down as he snatches your glasses from your open hands.

You almost scream. "Remus! Get off me!"

"No way, sweet thing." He wriggles to prove his point, setting his full weight on your soft tummy. You groan.

"I'll wet myself!"

He lets up, props himself over you with one arm on the armrest behind your head. The other has your glasses held carefully aloft.

He tries to put them back on and you cover your face with both hands. He kisses your knuckles, the back of your hands. You make a sound like a hiccup and part your fingers to stare at him pleadingly.

"Remus, don't."

"How can you even tell it's me? You can't see."

"My eyes aren't that bad. I'd recognise your smug, smirking-"

He disrupts your insults, hand prying your hands from your face, holding your wrists in a strong grip. Your eyes are bright with playfulness, giggling like you know what he's going to do.

"This is unfair."

Maybe he is being unfair, pinning you down, not because you can't fight back but because you're easy to win over like this. You're already excited and nervous because he's been a little rough with you, and that makes it easy to slip your glasses back onto your lovely nose.

"There," he murmurs. "Perfect."

He kisses your wrists before he lets them go.

You press your lips together, pouting. "You're the worst."

He doesn't believe a word of it, stroking the side of your neck with a lazy stretch of his fingers. He holds you in place as he moves in, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

"You're beautiful. Keep the glasses on, lovely girl. Please?"

You look a little dazed as you agree. Gotcha.

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

Rock Love

Pairing: Steddie (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson)

Word Count: 712

Summary: Steve is Eddie’s biggest fan.

Author’s Note: So this is my first Steddie fic. I love them both so much and when Navy and Roo gave us the bouquet of flowers prompt for this week’s sleepover event @the-slumberparty this idea popped into my head. I definitely made the usual cocky and confident Steve shy and sweet here because I love the idea of him being completely ruined for Eddie- who just eats it up of course haha Thank you Navy and Roo for hosting and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the loveliest @firefly-graphics thank you sweets 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness and fluff and flowers and cute boys

Moodboard made by me but the Eddie picture in the top center is an edit done by @fefemunson thank you love! 🥰

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve’s ears are still buzzing as he slips behind the curtain and shuffles through the growing crowd, the bouquet of flowers held protectively to his chest.

He finds a small spot to stand and leans against the wall, his eyes searching for Eddie. The longer he waits the more nervous he becomes. He unwraps one sweaty hand from the stem of flowers and rubs it along his jeans before fussing with his hair for the thousandth time.

It’s hard to see through the constant movement of people; groupies, equipment and lighting technicians, and backstage staff but he finally spots the top of Eddie’s head, his distinctive bandana making him easy to find.

He strains on his toes, hoping to get his attention but suddenly Eddie is swarmed by fans. Steve falls flat on his feet with a sigh.

“Come on Harrington!” Robin shouts, taking Steve by surprise. “Is that the best you can do?”

Steve turns to her and his mouth falls open, eyebrows drawn in defensively.

“Well…I…NO! BUT…look at all his adoring fans,” Steve mumbles.

Robin looks past Steve and her face breaks out into a huge smile.

“He uh, doesn’t seem to care about them at all,” she says. “Take a look dingus.”

Steve slowly turns back in Eddie’s direction and realizes he now has a clear view of him, the sea of fans having parted because Eddie’s full attention is on Steve.

“Oh…” Steve breathes out, swallowing hard as Eddie makes his way over.

“Hey baby boy,” Eddie croons.

A shiver runs down Steve’s spine as he drags his gaze over Eddie’s body, his eyes wide and appreciative.

“These for me?” Eddie asks as he dips his head to smell the bouquet of flowers.

When Steve can finally tear his eyes away he thrusts the flowers at Eddie with a nod and starts to fidget with his hands.

“Yea, I thought you would like the colors, they’re pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you baby,” Eddie purrs as he sticks his nose into the flowers for a smell, “and I love ‘em.”

Pink creeps up Steve’s neck and paints his cheeks in a soft blush before he drops his head to his chest.

Eddie shifts his gaze to Robin and hands her the bouquet with a wink. She takes them with a knowing smile and skips off toward the green room.

Eddie tucks his fingers under Steve’s chin and he gently lifts his face, bringing his eyes back up. The front of Steve’s hair flops down over his forehead and Eddie brushes it away with a soft caress.

“Where did the flowers go?” Steve asks even as his eyes drop to Eddie’s lips.

“Robin took ‘em for me. She’s going to put them in water. They’ll be safe in the green room.”

“Ok, yeah,” Steve says quietly.

“Did you enjoy the show sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

Steve preens under Eddie’s endearment, letting out a breathy “yes.”

“Mm good,” Eddie murmurs, leaning down to kiss the corner of Steve’s mouth before taking his hand and pulling him down the hall.

Eddie pushes the door to the green room open and slams it shut with his boot, rattling the beer bottle on the small table that holds the bouquet of flowers.

Steve’s back hits the wall and a gasp leaves his parted lips.

Eddie rests a hand above Steve’s head, strumming his fingers along the wall as the other slides up his chest until his fingers close around the guitar pick on Steve’s necklace.

“I can’t believe you saved this,” Eddie smirks, toying with the pick.

“It was your first show,” Steve says adamantly. “I’ll keep it forever.”

“Course you will,” Eddie whispers, dipping his head.

He runs his nose along Steve’s cheek before pressing a kiss below his ear and pressing him into the wall.

Steve trembles against him, his long lashes fluttering along his cheeks as his eyes begin to close.

“You’re such a sweet thing Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, lightly brushing his lips across Steve’s in a whispered tease.

Steve whines Eddie’s name and Eddie tugs on the chain, closing the distance between them and grabbing Steve around the waist.

Steve melts against him, fisting the sides of his leather jacket before his hands slide higher and dive into his curls.

@buckysdollforlife @ysmmsy @blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @goldylions

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie imagine #joseph quinn #joe keery #rockstar!eddiemunson #boyfriend!steve harrington #navy and roo's sleepover

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spiriteddreams · 1 year

Text

love (to be yours)

for my "studio ghibli x valentine's day collab" <3 Pairing: Kaedehara Kazuha x Reader Warnings: fluff, angst if you really squint Word Count: ~1.8k

Yours (now I'm even losing my name — it was getting shorter and shorter all the time and is now: Yours)

one. “My love, you’re staring,” Kazuha’s voice pulls you from your daydreams. He sits across from you beneath a sakura tree, serene smile so calming and loving at the same time. Steam curls up from his tea, caressing his soft features as he stares at you knowingly. These are the moments you adore, when it is just you and Kazuha and the peaceful atmosphere of Inazuma to accompany your thoughts. It isn’t often that he gets to indulge in such moments, and with both of your busy schedules, finding time during the day for one another can prove to be tough. You are young and in love, the real world feeling eons away. Caught up in this moment, Kazuha realizes there are moments in his life that thinks will stick with him forever. Some are the loveliest of memories, while others are plagued with tragedy, and yet he holds them dear to his heart.

“Who wouldn’t? You’re simply too pretty,” you hum, tilting your head in appreciation. The laugh that bubbles up from his chest is warm and inviting, filled with all the adoration in the world that he holds for you. He’s a charmer, swaying people with his words that it becomes impossible not to fall in love with him. But he swears up and down that his heart is forever in your hands, stitched along his sleeve and embroidered with your name. It’s a silly thought, you tell him, but touching all the same, for who else can make you swoon with such poetics.

“It seems as if you’re starting to speak in poetics as well.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Of course not,” Kazuha puts his cup down, shifting his body to move closer to you. “I find it rather endearing.” Hands trail from the blanket splayed out beneath you both to your hands. His fingertips dance on your skin, calloused but warm as he intertwines your fingers. You shift to a more comfortable position, allowing him to move even closer, teasingly trailing one finger up your arm, along your shoulder, and up to your chin so he can tilt your head to press a lingering kiss.

“I love you.”

two. He finds it rather terrifying, the way you waltzed in and fit like a puzzle piece, wrapping your hand around his and pulling him down the streets of Inazuma. As an innocent child, he stumbles down the street, panting and nearly tripping over the stones that jut out from the sidewalk. You are both children, blissfully ignorant of the world that changes around you. Instead, you only focus on the taste of sweet dango milk from street vendors and meeting up when your families decide to have dinner together.

Fast forward some years and you are adults. Kazuha’s world has been thrown upside down and he leaves with nothing more than fleeting words, kisses against knuckles and a letter from the heart.

“Promise me you’ll find me again.”

He smiles wryly, “promises are just fragile words, my dear.”

“Promise me.”

He doesn’t seal your promise with words and he thinks that’s the first time he breaks your heart.

Instead, when he flees with you far behind, he swears up and down that when he returns, you are the first he’ll seek out. And when the Resistance sings a song in his name, a battle cry he hears from across the ocean, Kazuha convinces Beidou to bring him and the rest of the crew back to his motherland. To fight for freedom, against eternity, is a risk he’s willing to take. He has not forgotten the promise he does.

Blood spills across grass and stone as banners parade across battlefields and yet he only has eyes for you. He thinks he must be crazy to think you look beautiful like this, weapon in hand, chin held up high and a taunting glare in your eyes. You hold the gaze of Kujou Sara across the battlefield and Kazuha can’t help but stop and stare. The rain batters down on the battlefield that is Nazuchi Beach and the Watatsumi Army is close to retreat, but upon signal, Sangonomiya Kokomi makes her grand entrance and soldiers pour in behind her. Kazuha only has eyes for you, sword forging a path to where your back is to him. The ringing of swords clashing meets his ears, grunts and shouts of pain echoing around him but the sound of your voice in his ears for the first time in what feels like forever, is like the sweetest melody of all.

“Welcome home.”

three. Quiet days on the Alcor can be lonely. When there is little wind to catch in the sails and the crew has, for the most part, finished their tasks, the Alcor can become enveloped in silence. It’s not an awkward silence, nor is it uncomfortable, because there are moments when each of the crew members will step back and remember those left behind. There are families, friends, and loved ones waiting for them back home, and sometimes, as Beidou likes to say, it’s okay to be homesick.

But Kazuha doesn’t like to think he’s one to get homesick. He is a wanderer, a traveller, someone who can’t quite be tied down to one place. He would consider the Alcor to be his home, always drifting on the ocean and sailing from port to port, as if running from every past that the sailors might be running from. So why is it that today, his thoughts are pulled to you. For this round of journeys, you’ve decided to remain in Inazuma, working closely with the Yashiro Commission to rebuild a broken system. He had respected your decision, promising to return as soon as he could, but for the first time since finally clearing his name, journeying on the oceans without you feels odd.

“I wonder if you’re missing me as I am you.” Kazuha lies on the cool planks at the front of the ship.

He imagines you sitting cross-legged on the engawa, chin resting on your palm as you stare up at the fireworks that Yoimiya is likely setting off. He thinks you must be staring up at them, so lost in thought that if he were to steal a glance, he’d see the glassy reflection of the fireworks bursting in your eyes, as if you were entranced by the shimmering lights.

“Of course I do,” he imagines you saying, whispering the words to the wind to be carried to him aboard the ship so far away. “I’ll always miss you.” Those words are true, and Kazuha knows it because you’ve said it so many times. He doesn’t quite know what to make of them, can’t quite tell if they still hold the bitterness and anger that you had felt when he had left and did not send word of his travels or update you on his well-being. He knows that you have long forgiven him and have welcomed him back into your life with warm hugs and lingering touches, but not without a fair share of heated arguments and sharp scolding.

Kazuha laughs to himself, shaking himself from the memories that wash over him.

“I love you,” he whispers to the wind.

four. Once you’ve met someone, you never really forget them. Kazuha’s pen lifts from the paper, ink forever engraving thoughts from the heart. If anyone were to ask him, Kazuha would say that he thinks you’re the loveliest being in the world. He swears up and down on his life that the moment you came into his life, you had placed him under a spell for only you to lift. So, he notes down each instance from the moment he falls until now, waiting for the day that his thoughts feel complete, and this journal of memories is enough to share.

He’s written countless poems about his travels and experiences, memorizing them by heart and rewriting them on papers that have begun to brown with age. There are poems on love, poems on grief, poems on travel, poems on you. He rereads each poem that he writes and tests the words on his tongue to see if they’re too bitter or too sweet. Some are ready to be shared with others, some still should be kept close to him, and others are meant for your eyes and ears only. He tries to contain his excitement when he pulls you aside for another poem, relishing in the way you lean forward slightly as if trying to hear him better. You savor the words, let them blanket you. He weaves declarations of love in carefully arranged lines, line breaks and stanzas serving as the building blocks to the hidden message he hopes you’ll be able to decipher.

At the call of his name, he looks up from where he sits hunched over the table. You stand at the entrance to the room with a tray holding a teapot and two empty cups. Your appearance in the afternoons with freshly brewed tea has become something of a tradition. You abandon all words on the table, tucking them aside in neat piles and spend an hour or two with one another. Sometimes it is filled with chatter, other days with silence, but the more time you spend with Kazuha, the more and more you fall in love with him and his silly words.

“My love, you’re staring.” Kazuha breaks your train of thought. You sit across from each other as the moon hangs in the sky, one pot of tea to share and a million declarations of love unsaid. His words jolt you to a past that’s full of innocent memories. It’s a memory shared between two lovers who had not yet experienced the extent of what it meant to hurt and be apart.

You indulge him, “who wouldn’t, you’re simply too pretty.” The grin that stretches across your face is all too knowing, a sign that he’s about to twist things around, likely to his advantage.

“It seems as if you’re speaking in poetics as well. Should I be concerned you will sweep me off my feet this time?”

“Is that so bad?” you continue to play along.

“Of course not,” he moves closer to you. “Just be prepared to catch me should I fall.” His heartbeat seems to pick up when you laugh. His pocket feels heavier, as if the small gold band is burning through his clothes and into his skin. For the first time, he finds himself at a loss for words. How does one properly convey all the right words, with all the right emotions to ask you to stay with him forever? He finds that none of his friends are rather helpful, all of them, except for maybe Thoma, teases him and pesters him with questions each time he sees them. He thinks that he can wait just a bit longer so he can gather his thoughts and plan everything again. So instead of a proposal or a flurry of poetic words, he says:

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #yaepublishinghouse #spiritsstudioghiblivalentines #genshin impact fluff #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

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caffeinated-chaos-bean · 7 months

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"Oh, come on, Jotaro!!"

"Tch, I said absolutely NOT!!"

The blonde gritted his teeth, the small vampiric fangs showing through. "Will you get over your damn feud just this once?!"

"Tch, fuck no!"

"Mn... Jotaro," an older voice chimed in. "Perhaps the young one has a point? It has been over two decades..."

The marine biologist shot his grandfather a glare before looking back to the teen mafioso. "Do you even understand the amount of chaos we went through because of your father?"

"I do." Giorno hissed. "But this isn't being asked for his sake, I'm asking for my mother. She set aside the one thing that's special for a woman and that's her special day, her very wedding!!"

"And that's her problem!!"

"Oi, what's the commotion about?" Josuke. He always had a bad habit of not paying attention until the noise got to loud for him to ignore. "Who's having a wedding??"

Giorno turned and gave the young adult an exhausted look. "Ah, buon giorno, Josuke. My apologies for disturbing you, I'm trying to get Jotaro to help with something I wish to surprise my mother with."

"But aren't Ads and Dio already married?"

Giorno sighed. "Yes, but they never had a proper wedding ceremony. Legally, it was done at home and Papa had a friend who pulled some strings with the church. Mama has never had the chance to wear a real wedding dress, nor enjoy that one special day."

Josuke raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to his nephew. "And this is a problem... why?"

Jotaro glared at him. "Tch."

"Giorno, let's do it." Josuke encouraged. "Gramps, what's your take?"

Joseph rested a hand on his cane, looking at the two. "Dio may have been... er... that was his name, right? Well, no matter. When is this party?"

Giorno smirked at the only negative nancy in the room. "Better get your daughter a pretty little dress, she'll be the flower girl."

Jotaro's jaw clenched, resisting the urge to clock the kid. "I'll replace those flowers with knives."

"Good, it will make Papa glad to know you thought of his hobbies."

Jotaro groaned as he stood from his chair, storming from the room.

After months of planning, it was finally the day. All was set and ready, food choices precise, and music hand-picked by Josuke. Giorno has picked the loveliest dress for his mother, albeit was shocked when she had dyed it black. He knew, however, that she was excited and still a tad in shock that he'd put all of this together for her.

Of course, his father was in a more proper attire for a change, which was a shock to everyone as well. But knowing Dio, he did still add a personal flare to the attire with a red cape. Somehow, Giorno knew his father wouldn't be able to keep himself from being flamboyant in some manner... at least he ensured it would go nice when paired against his wife.

The ceremony was held in an old, stone cathedral that could hold plenty of guests. Lace drapery hung at the stained glass windows and everyone was dressed to impress.

"Ah, Giorno~" Adelaide cooed, taking her son's hands. "This party is wonderful. You didn't have to go to all this trouble, really!"

Giorno chuckled, eyes closed eyes smiling. "Of course I did, Mama. You never had your special day, and so you deserve this. Today is your day, no one can tell you otherwise."

The blonde woman was glowing, if that was even possible for a vampire. "Oh, my son, you are too sweet. I'm honestly surprised that you got Jotaro to even agree to be in attendance!"

Giorno huffed, although a smirk broke through. "It took a lot of convincing, I can assure you. That reminds me!"

"Yes?"

Giorno smiled wide. "Have you had your dance yet?"

Adelaide cocked her head slightly, not recognizing at first what her son was asking. "W-What? Oh! You mean...? I, uhm... N-No, I have not, You know your father isn't one for that, and with a crowd he'd be even less willing. Especially in front of Jotaro of all people."

The Don's brows furrowed. "You can't be serious? Mama, you can't let him rid you of that! That's a special moment for you! Just as special as this party!"The woman shook her head. "N-No no, it's okay, dear. Really, I--"

Her words were cut off when the music suddenly stopped, everyone's attention turning towards the front of the cathedral. There, Josuke stood in a fitting, purple suit that was complete with frilly white wrist cuffs. "Everyone, if I can divert your attention please!"

Adelaide raised a brow, leaning to whisper to her son. "Giorno, what is he doing?" The mafioso, however, had just as confused of a look as she did. "I have no idea..."

"Now, first off, let me thank all of your for coming. We know our families have had their differences, but to us all put them aside to give someone a once in a lifetime moment such as this is quite heartwarming." Josuke spoke, a sparkle in his eye. "Wouldn't you agree, Jotaro?"

"Tch." Jotaro didn't respond, all he did was roll his eyes at the comment.

"I knew you'd agree!" Josuke teased. "Now! We've all been having quite the time here, drinking and enjoying the food and company, but there's just one thing I can't help but notice was overlooked! Forgotten!!"

"Did I misplace my cane again?" Joseph stammered, looking around as everyone lightly laughed. "Huh?"

"No no, gramps, your cane is right there with you." Josuke chuckled. "What I'm talking about is something special, something that would be intimate and only for the bride and groom. What I speak of... is the bride's special dance."

Giorno's eyes widened in surprise. He'd noticed, as well? Well, he wasn't going to contest if the young man was going to take initiative. His attention was diverted when he heard his father's voice.

"....The hell are you on about?" Dio snarled, tapping his nail against the wine glass in his hand.

Giorno's gaze then fell upon his mother again. "Ah! G-Giorno!" Her tone was nervous and hushed, clearly worried. "G-Giorno, your father isn't going to agree to this!"

Josuke could see from the stage what was occurring with the bride and a strange look came upon his face. Was it confidence or a form of bravado? "Giorno. Bring your mother to the center, would you? Jotaro, you'll help, yes?"

Jotaro huffed. He wasn't going to budge at first, but then a smirk came over his face. He knew what Josuke was asking without having to get clarification. "Yare yare, daze..." The man stood and made his way to his old enemy's side.

"G-Giorno!" Adelaide stammered, her son gracefully leading her to the center of the room.

"H-Hey!! Get your hands off me!!" Dio protested as Jotaro began pushing Dio in the same direction, a devious grin on his face. "Shut up."

Adelaide and Dio stood awkwardly at the center of the room together, Jotaro returning to his seat and Giorno joining Josuke up on the stage.

"And now..." Josuke began. "May we present to you..."

"The bride..." Giorno chimed in. "...and groom's moment to shine."

With that, Giorno turned to Josuke and they both nodded. At this point, the two younger men were mentally in synch. They knew just the song to put on, even if it wasn't the most conventional choice.

Adelaide's eyes widened as a more upbeat tune began to play from the cathedral's speaker system that Narancia had set up. She turned and looked around, frozen at first. When she saw her husband's expression, however, she then smirked. Dio stood with his right side to her, arms folded and eyes closed, clearly irritated at their son's actions. Adelaide exchanged glances with both Giorno and Josuke before turning back to her husband, shoving him.

"H-Hey!!" Dio hissed. "What are you--!!" Adelaide backed away from him, a smirk on her face as she grabbed a corner of her skirt and began to lift it above her knee. Dio's eyes widened as well as Giorno's when the two watched the woman tear the fabric of her dress, taking it from floor length to her mid-thigh. If a dance is what her son wanted her to have with Dio, then a dance everyone would get.

"She's into superstition~" Giorno began to sing.

"Black cats and voodoo dolls~" Josuke followed up, taking on the back-up role.

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snackhobi · 3 years

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this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested. It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.)

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.)

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist.

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.)

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back.

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power.

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it.

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

“Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall.

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered.

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond.

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it.

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron.

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi.

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner. There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway.

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out.

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot.

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire.

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway.

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary.

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting.

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you.

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else.

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright.

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you.

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.)

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung.

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth.

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to.

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up.

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say.

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really.

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists.

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.”

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor.

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn.

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed.

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad.

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee.

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is.

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

“Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say.

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all.

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice.

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity.

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think.

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand.

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?”

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say.

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #houseofddaeng #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts #yoongi au #bts au #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #PLEASE feel free to message me with any typos or whatever and I'll get on those when I have a chance

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soleilsuhh · 3 years

Text

stray kids : what i imagine their ideal types would be !

requested: Hi! Your writing is soooo pretty. If you can, could I request Stray kid’s ideal types?

chan’s — soft heart, tough demeanor. quiet confidence. ice cold gazes; they would be highly intimidating if not for their soft sunshine smile. makes fun of romance and the idea of love, but is secretly a hopeless romantic. falls in love with the little things about people and moments. journals filled with raw thoughts, dreams, and withered, pressed flowers. unapologetically honest and sincere yet polite. oversized blazers and coats. neat desk space, dusty bookshelves.

minho’s — someone who makes him laugh as easy as he breathes. graceful movements, carefree demeanor like nothing can hurt them. untied shoelaces, shirts unintentionally buttoned in wrong holes — that half-joyous, half-embarrassed laughter when pointed out. gentle words, loud voice. casual, friendly touches when talking. hugs as greetings and good-byes. fueling their body with optimism, sarcasm, and iced tea. eyes full of stories.

changbin’s — tousled hair. that little strand of unruly hair that won’t stay put no matter how many times he tries to smooth it over; it’s frustrating at first but he falls in love with it over time — just like he would with the person. nothing makes them happier than seeing other people happy. a modern-day warrior; fights for causes, for the environment, for the animals, for their loved ones. big gestures; vibrant, animated expressions; beautiful, booming laughter.

hyunjin’s — smiling and laughing with their whole face. makes him playlists and randomly sends them at 2 a.m. always hums along to songs on the radio. body swaying just slightly to the music and he wouldn’t notice if not for the accidental, clumsy brush of their shoulder with his. doodles in the margins of their books. soft gazes with their perpetually half-awake eyes while waiting for coffee. sweet voice and even sweeter giggle. worn-out sweaters, paint-splattered jeans.

jisung’s — bright eyes and a lofty grin. a shameless flirt. a nagging mom-friend. denim overalls. can’t sing at all but does it anyway. goofy selfies over pretty ones. always chewing gum. claims they can’t cook and genuinely can’t. somehow a mess but also has their life together. confident strides. can talk for hours on end and it never gets boring. rants about the silliest stuffs. with them, there’s less time to trap yourself in negative thoughts and feelings.

felix’s — embodiment of sunsets and summer days. the bustling of a large friend group. fights you for the window seat. still can’t decide their favorite color or food. photo booths. peels tangerines for loved ones. conversations with them make you fall in love with all the little things in the world. soft speaking voice but, has that loud and awkward laughter, especially when embarrassed; it’s so cute and amusing. as long as they’re there, life feels so much more bearable, and the world feels more like home.

seungmin’s — collects little things like ticket stubs and souvenirs for memories’ sake. sweet coffee with a little too much cream. tote bags. piles of second-hand books. falls asleep during movies, more often than not. homemade bread. writes paragraphs on birthday wishes and letters. lets loved ones sleep on their shoulder or lap. to be around them is to fall in love with silent moments, to feel the loveliest kind of comfort.

jeongin’s — they’re exciting and to fall in love with them is to never have to question if they love you. passion like the forest fire and reassurance like the cheerful fire of the fireplace. expressive. loud acts of kindness. says they’re fine then tells you their whole life story while lying on the floor at 3 a.m. tik-tok dances. so understanding, they make you want to try new things and not be afraid of making mistakes. to be with them is to never have your hands go unheld.

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timmyswiife · 3 years

Note

can you do something where jj gives you his sharktooth necklace?

ofc i can! i hope you enjoy!!

The Loveliest Girl On The Planet Earth (Jj Maybank)

summary: jj knew something was wrong, and after finding out what, he had the perfect way to solve it :)

pairing: Jj Maybank x Fem!Reader

word count: 648

Saying that Jj knew you well was understatement. The boy could tell if something was wrong from the time you walked into the room.

This is why when he saw you enter the chateau with a look of worried concentration, he immediately got up to see what’s wrong.

“Good afternoon M’Lady,” pausing to kiss your hand, “penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

Jj didn’t push the topic, because just like he knew you were worried, he also knew not to force you to say anything when you were worried.

“Alrighty then, want a beer?”

“Nope, I’m good,” you pulled him closer as your eyes flickered from his eyes to lips, “however, I would love a kiss.”

You pulled him in by his shirt, letting your lips touch. It was short but sweet, like many others of your kisses

“Hello, if you guys are gonna do that, get a room please. Save all of us that experience.” She said jokingly, but her face as if she’s seen something horrifying.

“Wait so I can’t even kiss my boyfriend now?”

“Jeez y/n, calm down, I’m pretty sure Kie was joking,” responded Pope with a chuckle.

It was that moment that gave it away, something was definitely wrong and now everyone knew it.

John B shot Jj a look of confusion, almost as to signal him to find out what was wrong.

Realizing the silence was caused by your remark towards Kie, you sighed, “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s alright,” said John B calmly, knowing something else was going on.

“Hey babe, wanna go outside for a minute?” said Jj, hoping you would say yes.

“Sure, but why?”

“Ah, ah, you didn’t let me know what was going on in your mind,” he tugged on your wrist to guide you to the porch, “so I don’t think it’s fair you know what’s going on in mine.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged.

When you guys got outside, you sat, Jj still standing.

“Okay, y/n, what’s going on? Because I know you so well that from the time you walked in here, something was wrong,” he looked into your eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “please tell me, I might be able to help.”

You smiled, grateful he cared that much.

“Calm down J, it’s not THAT big of a deal.”

“Please specify.”

You smiled again, “I lost my favorite necklace, that’s all. It’s nothing big, so don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Oh, well now I feel bad.”

“Why?” you questioned him.

“Because,” he took your hand in his, “I know that you play with it when you’re nervous, and not having it on is gonna feel weird.”

“I- how did you know that?”

You were surprised he even noticed that, boy were you so lucky to have him in your life.

“Listen woman, I may not pay attention half the time, but anything having to do with you is worth knowing.” He winked at you, raising your mood.

You didn’t have any words.

Jj, realizing you were speechless, decided to do one better and remove his famous shark-tooth necklace.

“J, what are you-”

“If you wouldn’t mind turning around M’Lady.”

You listened to him, but before you turned you sent him a knowing look. You held your hair aside as he clasped the necklace around your neck.

You turned and smiled at him, “Thanks for this, I mean it.”

“Anything for you.” He bowed towards you.

You let out a laugh and pulled him in for a kiss. As you pulled apart, your faces were still close together, foreheads touching.

“I mean it, thanks. No one has ever done this for me.”

“And I meant what I said too, anything for the loveliest girl on the planet earth.”

With that, he gave you a smile, one that you would never get tired seeing.

#jj x y/n #jj outer banks #outer banks #outer banks jj #jj maybank #jj fanfic #jj x reader #jj maybank outer banks #jj mayback x reader #one shot #jj maybank one shot #lokiiswifewrites

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haztory · 3 years

Note

OK BUT THAT'S ME BEING AN IDIOT HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA drabble/sfw JAHAHHAHAHAHAH DAMN

““You better catch that fucking bouquet, babe. Our relationship is on the line!” + “You wanna go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?” with Bokuto for the loveliest Clara! from my writing event that is now closed!

warnings: adult langauge and that’s it!

a/n: i answered her previous ask for the quotes so i’m just posting the drabble here! thank you for your patience my love!!! i hope you like it <33333

bokuto koutarou x f!reader; (fluff, all the fluff and wedding shenanigans)

Bokuto loves weddings. They’re truly his weak spot. Ask him to attend and he’s there an hour early, regardless of whether you’re his best friend or his cousin twice removed. The man lives for a wedding.

He loves the sentimentality of the ceremony that never fails to make him teary-eyed and oppositely, he loves the liveliness of the reception, half tempted every time to push the DJ aside and take over the mixing of music with a drink in his hand and a sloppy yell. He’s a vivacious mess of mixed moods and energy, but truthfully, he’s the best date anyone could ever ask for.

The best attendee too, considering almost everyone wants him to be a groomsman. He usually can never say no, but this time, it wasn’t even a question; Especially not for Hinata.

But above all, he loves that every wedding he attends grants him ample opportunity to enter into the sanctity of his fantasies and imagine his own.

“Did ya see him up there?!” Atsumu barks with a hard laugh, one hand clutching his whiskey and another his suit-clad chest, “He was cryin’ more than the groom!”

Met with the boastful laughs of his fellow team members, all gathered in a scattered circle by the bar, Bokuto jokingly pushes the blond on his left with a loud scoff and a faux-defense tone.

“I held it in!”

“I heard you sniffling when Sho finally entered the venue,” Sakusa says, pointing a finger at Bokuto with the same hand that held his own alcoholic drink, “Don’t lie.”

The group erupts into even more scattered laughter, that of which Bokuto finally joins in. His suit jacket has long since been abandoned, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he holds his hands up in surrender, “What can I say? I love weddings!”

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, Meian joyfully says from beside him, “At least we’ll know now how you’ll be at your own.” His eyes waggle in accompaniment and Bokuto feels his cheeks start to ache from the intensity of his smile.

“We’ll bring extra tissues!”

Flustered to the core, Bokuto dips his head in abnormal shyness— the likes of which have the entirety of his friend group leaning forward in curiosity, their own interested smiles painted on their faces.

Fascinating as it may be to see the loud and boisterous wing spiker reduced to flushed cheeks at the mention of marriage, it doesn’t take much to figure out why; Even if they didn’t know him as well as they did, it was more than clear as to the reason when Bokuto’s own gaze tries to covertly dart to the side. That of which they all notice and blatantly follow.

Stood beside the table of the bride, there you stood in all of your sheer elegance laughing with a number of the bridesmaids, blissfully unaware of a loving gaze that was drawn much too heavily to your turned figure. Focused on the way your dress shimmers in the dim lighting and the way you speak amongst the other guests, Bokuto feels locked in the trace of your magnanimous presence. Shyness dissipating quickly and replaced with the overwhelming flutter in his stomach.

And, not for the first time this night, he wonders briefly what it would be like if it were you walking down the aisle; If instead of the sheer, shimmery dress that adorned you beautifully, you were wearing a white one.

As he watched with exuberant joy as one of his closest friends married the one he loved, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if this were his wedding. If it were you walking down the aisle to the ethereal orchestra with your closest friends and family in attendance, all watching with eager rapture at your astounding beauty as he surely would be. But none of them, not a single one of them could ever compare to the intensity of his own stupefied gaze.

He’s imagined the scenario too often, felt tears prick the corner of his eyes every time, and he grows more excited each time he’s fantasized. But nothing gives him more butterflies than the thought of interlocking his hand with yours, placing his ring of eternal promise on your third finger, and avidly vow forever with you.

It’s not like he needs a wedding to promise that; He sees his future every time he looks at you—even if you have your back turned to him and are chatting away unsuspectingly with the fellow attendees.

But a wedding would be nice, he thinks.

“That’s if he can get married,” Atsumu mutters into his glass cup and takes a long drink of his whiskey.

Bokuto, interrupted from his loving stare at the back of your head, snaps his own head to the blond with the speed to break necks. Eyebrows furrowed, fantasy ruined, and full offense coating his syllables, he exclaims, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, Atsumu leans one elbow on the surface of the bar counter and swirls his drink around, “Ya keep sayin’ yer gonna do it, but how long’s it been? Seven, eight months? If you haven’t done it yet, yer not ever gonna.”

A quick flash of sternness settles into the eyes of their captain, his arm still wrapped around the shoulders of the slowly deflating wing spiker. “He’ll do it when he’s ready, Atsumu. There’s no need to rush something like that.”

Rolling his eyes, Sakusa chimes in from across the three men. Pointing his stare at Koutarou, who resembles a kicked puppy at this point, he sighs. Not one to expel too much effort in emotional comfort, he decides this one is worthy of some kind of attempt. Albeit a minimal one.

“Don’t listen to this idiot, Koutarou.”

“‘m jus’ sayin’. She won’t wait for long, man,” Atsumu shrugs his shoulders again, eyes flitting to his right. Out of the corner, Koutarou deflates even more— shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth downturned noticeably. He huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.

Step one, complete.

“Since when were you such an expert in what women want?” Sakusa snorts.

“I have experience, thank you very much!”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Sticking his tongue out at Sakusa, he pointedly ignores the insult to his knowledge of the feminine desires and turns his attention to the subject matter at hand.

Atsumu knows what women, having dated quite a few in his years. More specifically, he knew what you want, considering one drunk evening you had wondered aloud— quite heartachingly in your alcoholic daze, he might add— if the boisterous wing spiker even wanted to marry you. Bokuto, in your words verbatim—

“He just always gets fidgety when I bring it up and I jus’ dunno if he even likes me anymore cause yesterday, he said that my dinner was just ‘okay’ when he always says that he really loves it. Do you know how that made me feel? How could he even want to marry me when I make just ‘okay’ food? Do you know how much he eats? How can he survive!”

And as the ever so loyal friend that Atsumu considers himself to be, who is never one to ever meddle in the business of others, decided it was only right of him to solve this slight problem himself.

By taunting Bokuto, of course.

If only to make him take matters into his own hands and finally do what everyone has been waiting for. What he knew the poor man has been dying to do forever, considering he never shuts up about you.

And also, to finally have you stop drunk texting him, no matter how endearing he may find them to be.

“So,” Atsumu sings once more, ignoring the look of exasperation on Meian’s face and instead, zoning in on the face of despair before him, “what are ya waiting for?”

In his stupefied stare at the blond beside him, Bokuto finds his gaze once more being drawn back to your turned figure that stands right in his line of sight. Wearing that pretty dress that you face timed him to get his opinion on, smelling of sweet lavender and jasmine— his favorite perfume of yours— and the lip gloss that you begged him not to mess up. He didn’t listen, and truthfully, you hardly minded all that much.

What is he waiting for? He knows what he wants, so why hasn’t he done it yet?

What if you’re growing tired of how long he’s been waiting? What if you’re unhappy that your relationship hasn’t progressed to the next stage? Oh god, what if--

His mouth opens then closes, then opens once again, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I… I don’t know.”

“Do ya want to marry her?”

Bokuto nods eagerly, as though through the action alone he could dispel of any lingering doubt that ever had the audacity to pervade his thoughts, “Of course! I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“Ya think she’s gonna say ‘no’?”

Looking at his two other teammates, who each have their own curiosities piqued at the line of questioning, he shakes his head with finality.

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Then ya just need a push!” Placing his drink on the counter, Atsumu slaps his hand on the man’s shoulder, “How about this: If yer girl catches the bouquet, ya rip the band-aid and ya ask her—”

Stepping in once more, Meian chimes, “Don’t push him to do something he’s not ready for—”

“I ain’t pushin’! He’s got the ring already, right?”

“You do?” All eyes fall onto Bokuto, who stares with widened innocent stare at each of them. He quickly shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out his fist to reveal a velvet box in his hand.

“I’ve been carrying it with me every day for the past six months. I just didn’t know if I should do it.”

Three pairs of eyes stare blankly at the man before them. Sharing a quick look at one another, the message is translated seamlessly between each of them and voiced eloquently by Meian himself. Ever the efficient captain.

“Holy shit.”

“My friend,” Atsumu laughs, squeezing his hand on the broad shoulder of his closest friend. His smile, innocent enough to the passing gaze, holds that twinge of mischief that Bokuto has come to know rather intimately; A taunting smile that has been directed his way one too many times that usually never ends well.

“I dare ya to propose to yer girl if she catches that bouquet. If yer really a man, that is.”

Bokuto’s eye twitches, his features narrowed at the utterance of the dare, and that’s how Atsumu knows he’s got him in the bag. It has his own smile widening even further, as Bokuto’s face scrunches in suspicion, knowing full well that he could never resist a dare.

With the single word alone, long gone is the hesitancy and doubt that plagued the man just a moment before, and instead stands a man tall in his ushering of competition. A man who thrives off the challenge, especially wherever his teammate presented one. It’s almost startling how quickly he sheds his mopey behavior and embraces his natural presence, which overwhelms and overpowers everyone around them.

Step two, done.

“And if she doesn’t?” Bokuto asks, smugness filtering his words as he entertains the notion— silently accepts the provocation laid before him and drastically alters himself in order to successfully combat it.

In order to win.

Spotting the glint of devilry that grows in strength in the narrowing of Bokuto’s eyes, Atsumu smirks and meets it with one of his own. He’s got him, hook, line, and sinker.

“Ya break up.”

Bokuto reels backward physically, shaken from the competitive trance and staring at the man in grotesque shock. The kind that almost borders anger and offense. Huffing a breath through his nose, he takes a step forward, away from the present comfort of Meian and almost in accusation.

“Are you trying to ruin my life, blondie? You trying to go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?”

Atsumu laughs, holding his hands up in defense, “I’m tryna get ya married, big guy!” Shoving his hands into his pockets, hardly phased by the proximity in which the large man has entrenched onto his space, he shrugs once more, “That is… if yer man enough to take it.”

“Deal,” Bokuto says without hesitation, both incredibly and not at all to the surprise of the other two men who have been silently watching from the sidelines. Like a sudden reset, the tension that resided stiffly in the shoulders of Bokuto rescinds, and replaced is the confident, joyous man.

A man who looks as though he’s won easy money and then some.

Smiling widely, Bokuto turns in his place and begins a bold strut away from his friends. In the direction of his beloved, “Excuuuse me, gentlemen. I’m going to go teach my lady how to catch a bouquet.”

Meian and Kiyoomi step to the side, allowing enough space for Bokuto to walk through with the hint of laughter in their small smiles.

Spinning on his heel and pointing his thumb at his chest, Bokuto exclaims proudly, “This time tomorrow, I will be a married man!”

“One wedding at a time, Kou.” Meian laughs at the retreating man, who is beaming from head to toe.

“Better train ‘er good, big guy! Or else I might be the next one to propose to her!” Atsumu calls out as Bokuto gets closer and closer towards your turned figure.

“I’ll kill you!” He calls back, hearing the echoing laughter diminish as he finally steps beside you.

Turning from the conversation with one of the bridesmaids to the new presence, you shine beautifully upon recognizing who it is, and Bokuto feels his resolve grow almost stronger.

“Hi baby,” You coo, instinctually placing your hand into his and leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek when he quickly presents it to you, “Did you have fun with the boys?”

Wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, he places his own kiss on your cheek, humming against the surface of the skin yet making no move to part from you. “Mhmm. Just missed you.”

You laugh, rubbing your hand on his arm, “You were only gone for a couple minutes, Kou.”

Trailing his lips downward, he nuzzles himself into your neck, inhaling deeply. Lavender and jasmine. His favorite scent.

The one he wants to smell for the rest of his life.

“Ten minutes is too long.”

If possible, he manages to pull you even tighter against him. Two strong arms wrapping around you, pulling your chest into his and squeezing you tightly. Lovingly and entirely too comforting. Home.

You return the embrace eagerly, holding him to you equally as tight, “You’re right. It was starting to get boring without you.”

His hand, warm and large against the small of your back, rubs the surface up and down before he pulls back slightly, if only to look at your face in its entirety and the lip gloss you have unfortunately reapplied.

“You’re gonna do the bouquet toss, right?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I usually do. Why?”

He glances to the side, avoiding your inquiring stare. He raises a hand from your waist, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile, “Maybe we should go outside, and I can throw a couple of rocks at you. Just to practice your catching skills.”

“Kou— “

“Can’t have anyone disrespecting you on the floor, can we? We gotta let everyone know you’re a winner! Cause you’re my girl, and whoever disrespects you, disrespects me! You know? So, you better catch that fucking bouquet. I mean, our relationship is on the line, here!”

“Koutarou—” From the tone in which you say his name, he knows he’s not making any sense. You’re confused, incredibly so, and he can’t blame you. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, only that he has a goal, and he has to make you see it without revealing himself entirely.

“I mean, only if you want to. It just… means a lot to me, and I want you to say yes, because I love you. And if you win, I win in a lot of ways. And I want to win with you, for the rest of our lives.”

Realizing almost entirely too late that he was talking with duplicity that you have most certainly caught on towards, he decides there is a good place to stop talking entirely. Oh god, he’s such an idiot. What was he thinking? He can never hide anything from you!

If you couldn’t tell from the way he was talking in metaphors, you could most definitely see it from the way in which sweat beads at the top of his forehead.

Your eyes flicker from each of his, your warm palms cupping the sides of his face as you watch him with concern.

“Baby,” You breathe out, voice steady and calm as you watch his resolve slowly crack under your watchful stare, “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

He tried desperately to remind himself that he has a mission to accomplish, that there was a dare that Atsumu had challenged him to that he must complete—but it’s you. You’re the trump card, the weakness in his defense, his priority above all else. He could never hide anything from you because you would catch him in a quick minute. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to hide anything from you.

It was easy to hide the ring under the guise of waiting for the perfect time, a mental barrier that he could excuse as a good cause behind his hesitancy, but now that he’s accepted a dare that is forcing him to put his desires to immediate use, he can hardly wait for the bouquet toss to arrive.

He’s got to do it now. The time is right, it will never be more perfect. You look beautiful, you’re held tightly in his arms, and he’s never been more convinced of the fact that he loves you. Why has he even waited this long?

He has to do it—Atsumu be damned.

“Marry me.”

Extra:

“You really think she’s going to catch it?” Meian asks Atsumu, as they both watch from afar the way Bokuto wraps himself around your body, nuzzling unabashedly into you.

Atsumu scoffs, “Hell no. Girl can’t catch fer shit.”

Furrowing his brows, Meian stares at the blond with intense confusion, “Then why did you—”

“Just had to plant the idea in his head. He’ll do it soon, jus’ give it a minute.”

The two watch you both silently, noticing the way in which Bokuto pulls away from you and starts to speak rapidly. Neither of them can hear what he’s saying, but they can see his lips moving. More importantly, can see the way in which you stare in perplexion.

Then finally, his lips stop moving and your hands cup his face. The setter and captain feel their breaths hitch and they both lean forward if only to see if they can read the wing spiker’s lips from where they stand.

They can. And from the way you respond with a laugh and an eager kiss, they know it worked.

Looking to Meian, Atsumu raises his brow with a smile, “Told ya!”

end note: to everyone who sent a request, it is on it’s way! i just don’t know the definition of a drabble and instead make 3k long fics, so that’s fun.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto drabble #bokuto fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #hq fluff #hq drabble #hq fic #haikyuu fic #my writing #my fic #writing event

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