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fayeimara · 3 years

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Miya Osamu || Little Delights | First Meeting

SUMMARY. Osamu can't help but be intrigued when his daughter starts bringing home delicious desserts prepared by her best friend's mother.

PAIRING. You x Miya Osamu

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Suggestive content

Haikyuu! Anthology Series | It's Fate When Your Kids Are Friends

OSAMU | First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family

Osamu's made it just in time, right as the bell tolls to signal the end of his daughter's second day in her new school year. Standing back as a swarm of kids rush out of the brick building and into the arms of their waiting parents, he takes a moment to breathe and relax. Juggling his burgeoning restaurant with being a single parent isn't an easy job, but he wouldn't trade it for anything.

He stands taller than many of the other adults around him and it's evident his little girl has no problem seeking him out as a black, red, and grey blur races towards him, a thrilled, "Papa!" reaching his ears and splitting his mouth into a wide, happy grin.

His arms are already open in a silent but enthusiastic response as he crouches down and then the bite-sized impact of his daughter is rocking him back on his heels, his reaction overly exaggerated as he pretends to almost fall over from the small force of nature that's all Miya Izumi.

Standing back up, Samu catches sight of another little girl who was trailing behind, wide eyes studying him before shifting to Zumi, his daughter turning back around to wave at her, proclaiming the girl as her 'bestest friend in the whole wide world'. The girl returns Zumi's enthusiastic wave with a quick raise of her small hand before her attention is caught by a pretty young woman, her own wide smile replacing her previously hesitant expression as she's warmly enveloped into welcoming arms with kisses peppered on her cheeks and forehead.

Her delighted giggles reach Osamu and his daughter as they turn around, hand in hand, to walk back to his car, small interaction soon forgotten as his little munchkin lists off the snacks she's looking forward to having on their return to his shop. She won't be able to finish half that list, he bets to himself with a quiet chuckle at his daughter's inherited exuberance for food as he securely buckles her into car.

It's not until they reach his second pride and joy, Onigiri Miya, that he finds the first little surprise tucked away in Izumi's not so empty lunchbox. When he inquires about the remarkably delicious looking set of biscuits he certainly didn't pack for her that morning, his daughter's response is that it's a thank you gift from her bestest friend, Reina, for the lunch she'd shared with the girl on her first day.

Well, a six year old certainly didn't bake these from the looks of it. It's only confirmed by his first taste, the texture and flavour beyond even most consistent home bakers, let alone a young child. Right? But a more pressing thought flags his attention, first.

"Did your friend not have her own lunch?"

"She did! We split because hers wasn't so good, even though her mama put so much love into it. But the treats were so much better so we decided to go halfsies and have best of both!" His daughter giggles with the oblivious sweet innocence of a child.

"And what about today?"

"Mhm. Same. But I liked the chocolate brownies yesterday much much better!"

Samu chuckles at her excitement and can't help but tease his precocious daughter, "Oh, and was it better than papa's food?"

Zumi's eyes widen as she contemplates the question with all the adorable seriousness she can muster, but loyalty must break free and run because her reply is, "Almost! So close, but I love papa's cooking more than anything in the whole wide world."

It seems the whole wide world is the current standard of measurement for first graders, but he appreciates the heartfelt sentiment behind her loving words.

After another moment of consideration, Osamu settles on the thought chewing at him and decides that tomorrow his daughter won't be giving up a portion of his food which she loves so much. No, she'll have double the amount to do with whatever she may please.

So briefly, that he doesn't even ponder on the sudden image, he's reminded of the warm reunion he witnessed between the little girl and the woman who he'd assumed was her nanny, but concludes is probably the girl's young mother. Based on the number of treats Zumi brought back, Samu's certain the woman had to have thoughtfully made extras of these baked goods for her daughter to have more than enough to share with friends and then some.

Well, it's definitely no skin off his back to make his daughter even the slightest bit happier by being able to help her share her savoury little delights with her new bestest friend.

It's on the third day of your daughter's return from her new school year that you're able to confirm that something is indeed amiss. The previous two days, the small portions of her lunch left uneaten were questionable, given her voracious appetite, however, when she returns with the lunch you made for her today still sitting wholly untouched in her cute little lunchbox, you finally sit her down to ask about it.

Her response is far from what you expected, "My friend's papa made extra lunch so we could both have something yummy to eat!"

You press your lips together to hide your amusement as you teasingly inquire, "Oh? Is that so? And I guess that means mama's food isn't so yummy after all."

Her eyes widen in dismay and mouth opens in an immediate denial that you know would be a lie to soothe your feelings. Even at such a young age, your beautiful baby girl is truly a kind and compassionate soul, she would dutifully eat anything you prepared no matter how lacking the meal might be and never utter a word to tell you the obvious truth.

Before she can manage to find the right words to faithfully express how much she loves your cooking, you lean in to kiss her on the forehead and pull back with a laugh, gathering her in your arms for a warm hug. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry I can't make you the food you deserve. But please don't ever feel the need to say otherwise to spare my feeling, okay? You should always be honest about what you like or don't like."

Her little arms find their way around you as she snuggles in, voice soft and words like a wise, old soul when she denies, "But your food is made with so much love mama. Zumi says some people are just better at other things. We both think you make the best yummies."

"The best yummies, hm?" You think about the various baked goods you add in to balance out for the healthy but tasteless lunches you're able to prepare.

They are indeed good, but baking has always been something that comes more naturally to you than cooking. An interesting distinction not many people might accept, but for you the former has always been an effortless science whereas the latter is more of a difficult art.

"Well I'm really glad you like those, but we do need to figure out what to do so you're not picking at your friends' food or going hungry."

She pulls back to send a serious look your way, exclaiming, "But I'm not picking at it, I promise. Zumi said her papa made extra just for me!"

You take a moment to consider her words. She made a similar implication in her earlier statement, that her friend's dad had made extra for them both. What does that mean? Did his daughter ask him to because she was sharing her food with Reina? Or did he somehow grasp the situation and is simply being generous?

A warm burn threatens your cheeks as you consider the awkwardness of accepting such a gesture from a complete stranger. While you appreciate the kindness of Reina's friend and her dad, it still somehow feels like a terrible imposition, as if you've burdened them somehow with your lack of skills to keep your child happily fed.

It's not like you can't cook good, healthy food. You're just painfully aware how bland the food you make can be, unless you spend three times the amount of time as anyone else would need to in order to prepare similar meals. But... studying the smile that's on your daughter's face, you can't help the twinge in your heart that reminds you how much more her happiness is worth than your pride.

You won't assume this will be a daily occurrence and you'll continue to make your daughters lunches so she never goes without, however, it'll be no extra trouble for you to make double the batch of baked goods than usual. After all, you usually account for the fact that she'll be sharing with friends and classmates anyways.

However, you're now determined there will be enough delicious snacks for Reina to share not only around at school, but also some treats for her sweet friend Izumi to take home for her generous parents. Perhaps, you think, it might be prudent to include a short message, thanking the man for his thoughtful effort.

Silent gratitude isn't very much to anyone ~ (So I hope you and your family will accept these.) Thank you for your kindness, Miya-san.

Osamu blinks, unaware of the small smile that curves his lips as he reads the delicate, handwritten note carefully wrapped around one of the cupcakes Izumi brought back home today. There are only three of the original twelve left, apparently, but the one he's just bitten into is as incredible as expected.

If he's correct in his assumption from the note addressed directly to him and included with today's delightful treats, then the little girl's mother has picked up on his small action and is returning the gesture to convey her thanks. The thought is confirmed by his daughter explaining that one of each of the three cupcakes is for their family.

Three for their family? Hm. Well, it's just him and Zumi, but he's sure his brother will be all over the remaining offering when he visits tonight. If there's any left for him that is. Probably won't be, it's really just that good and anyways, he doesn't need Atsumu nosing his way into this simple exchange as it is.

The following day, Friday morning, Samu pens back his own note, assuring the woman that no thanks is necessary. There's no reason for her to express her gratitude over what's really such a simple action for him.

That evening, he and Zumi enjoy some quality mochi delivered in a white, rectangular box with a pretty decently hand-drawn background scene at a spring festival on the cover. Two little girls, one that looks remarkably like his daughter and the other like her best friend, hold hands in the centre of the street dressed in traditional yukata and sharing a box of what he assumes is mochi.

As they much into the chewy treats, he watches and listens as his daughter points out the bright colours she and her friend chose to fill into what was apparently initially a blank canvas for them to colour on. Her delight at having a pink and grey yukata, even if only in a drawing, prompting him to make a mental note about looking into the clothing and any upcoming festivals.

Osamu makes a point of saving the box, childlike scribbles over the simple sketch leaving a warm feeling in his chest and a slightly wider smile gracing his mouth.

The response he receives the Monday evening (from his penned message the Friday before) is enough to prompt a full smirk that, this time, doesn't go unnoticed by him. The woman showed an interesting sense of humour and gracious acceptance with the first cupcake note. Then, a sweet and thoughtful disposition with the drawing included as part of the soft treat for the girls Friday.

But now, Samu sees a challenging firmness in her reply to his easy brush off of her thanks, delicate lines yet again adorning the small card carefully tucked into a pretty red ribbon that's tied around and decorating another white, rectangular box.

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it ~ So please accept this gift without concern.

Sitting inside are four differently coloured, rounded treats that look familiar but he can't place off the top of his head. A quick search identifies the delicate confections as macarons, the colorful delights an absolute wonder as the airy crunch of the top and bottom shells simultaneously give way to a firm filling with the first bite, the sweet flavour almost dissolving on his tongue.

He and Zumi finish the box off in minutes, three of each flavour included to a total of four different flavours, so both he and his daughter each get seconds of their respective favourites.

The next morning, filled with anticipation at what new surprises you might include with the goods you send today, he's fully aware of the grin that stretches his face as he writes out a note of his own for you to receive later this evening.

The macarons were inspiring. Izumi and I definitely won't turn away any gifts you'd like to send our way. I wonder... what other surprises do you have up your sleeve? I sent a little something your way to inspire you too. - M. Osamu

The neatly written note returned, once again, on the back of the small rectangular card you'd last sent, brings a warm smile to your face. The various onigiri that came along with it, apparently with specific instructions communicated from Izumi to Reina that today's additional quantity is set aside for you specifically, stretches the amused curl of your lips into a delighted grin.

You split each of the four different types of rice balls with your daughter, listening to her input on the delicious food as she points out her order of most to least favourite. Although there's not a single one you wouldn't eat on any given day if given the choice, the food is simply divine.

Your note the following day is a compliment to the chef, with a cheeky inquiry as to what deities one must pray to in order to make food like that. His response is a swift rebuttal asking what cruel gods bless some with the skills to cook but others with the skills to bake, ironically echoing your own thoughts from the previous week.

So goes the back and forth for weeks, notes getting cuter, sassier, and more personal as jokes, challenges, and encouragements alike are enclosed among the lunches of two excited little girls, their own bond strengthening with this unique camaraderie between their parents, until you feel the peculiar sense that you know the man on the other end, without ever even having actually met him.

Then, one day, three weeks into the first exchange, you receive a note that makes your heart beat in your throat at the unspoken challenge which raises the stakes of the now familiar routine. It's a simple response to your unassuming request for the onigiri recipes you initially received as the first returned delight, a meal you and Reina have been craving since the first taste.

I can do one better and teach you. xxx-xxx-xxxx. - Osamu

There's no reason to be shy or hesitant, is there? After all, it's a kind offer that will only serve you and Reina well with your future attempts at her lunches. You can't count on Miya Osamu's kindness forever.

Fingers still shaking, you dial the number enclosed within and find the call picked up before the first ring even finishes.

"I wasn't sure ya'd actually call."

Oh, wow, that's a voice to melt hearts alright. You're still smiling as you immediately reply in beat, with the easy familiarity of your shared repartee over the last few weeks, "With an offer like that, how could I not?"

He's quiet for a second and you start to lose your smile, suddenly worrying that perhaps you've acted too familiarly with a man that's all but a stranger and offended him. But his next words, slowly expelled in a lazy but thoughtful drawl, have your heart beating fast for an entirely different reason, "I had a feeling ya'd sound as pretty as ya write."

Now you're the one that's silent but it's entirely because you're at a loss for words, this quietly charming man having stolen them right from the tip of your tongue.

A low chuckle breaks what you realized was actually somehow still a remarkably comfortable silence and then his delicious voice reaches you again, "I hope I didn't scare ya voice away. It'd be a shame now that I've only just heard it."

Okay so he's maybe much more of a flirt than the subtle hints you'd noticed over the notes, but then again, they were delivered through your daughters as messengers so it would be reasonable he would have toned it down. Then again, what kind of man flirts with a woman he's never met previously? He doesn't even know what you look like. Have you captured his interest solely through your mutual correspondence?

You almost snort, catching your thoughts and feeling like you're the main character to some historical romance. Maybe during a world war era. Mutual correspondence. Right. What are you even thinking? He's got you flustered already.

"Funny. I would never have imagined you would sound so pretty from the way you write." You're tempted to arch an eyebrow with your audible smirk but then you remember that it's not like he can see it.

"Ya think my voice is pretty, do ya?" His tone is full with soft satisfaction, "Maybe ya can tell me if it's better in person."

"And here I thought the offer on the table was for learning a delicious recipe."

You swear you hear the smile in his response, "Sounds like yer in either way."

"Sounds like I am." You concede in mock resignation but you're painfully aware that your words and following sigh sound more like a promise.

You and Reina find the charming storefront quite easily from Samu's instructions. It's finally the weekend, several days since your first call with him, and your handwritten notes have now upgraded into convenient, daily text messages.

He's definitely confident and teasing but not quite the overt flirt you briefly considered he might be from a few days ago. In fact, he's more calm and grounded, even if he can be a smooth talker, but you've quickly found that what came across as flirtatious was actually just him being honestly direct. Which is both exciting and flattering enough to make you nervous for this first real meeting today.

A soft chime sounds as you open the door to usher Reina through before following her in yourself. The first thing your eyes land on is a small girl running to your daughter like a heat seeking missile and the two collide in an adorably sweet hug, somehow understanding each other while seemingly talking simultaneously.

With a small smile on your face, you take a moment to survey your surroundings and find your bearings in this unfamiliar space. It's not an overly large area, focusing more on a cozy, comfortable atmosphere emphasized by the deliciously welcoming smell of various foods that make you feel right at home.

Your eyes run over the bar with stools lined against it before you do a double take, finally noticing the dark haired man that's leaning with his arms crossed against a door frame beyond it, watching as you examined his space.

He must be able to tell he's slightly startled you as an amused smile stretches his lips and he dips his head ever so slightly in greeting. "Welcome to Onigiri Miya."

"Thank you for inviting us, Miya-san." You bite your lip at your automatic formality, already certain what he's going to say next.

And he doesn't disappoint, eyebrow arching as he uncrosses his arms and, finally, steadily makes his way towards you, "I already told ya to call me Osamu. Or Samu."

Now you're smiling again because the situation is definitely out of the ordinary, the level of familiarity you feel with a man you're seeing for the first time can only be considered unusual. You take a moment to study him as he stops just before you, tall build with broad shoulders and a handsome face that looks like it belongs on a heartbreaker not a homemaker.

Your fingers itch to push back the locks of his hair peeking out from under his dark cap and falling over on side of his forehead, if only to have an excuse to run your hands through it. But that's definitely not appropriate no matter how comfortable you might already feel with this easygoing man.

"Right... Osamu, then. And of course, you can call me Y/n."

"Yer name and looks suit ya, just like yer voice and handwriting." He's got a small smile on his own face now and you're not sure if he's aware he basically just called you pretty. He doesn't really seem to do this on purpose, from what you've gathered.

You beam at him regardless and volley back, "Well, I can say the same for you too."

And for a brief second, that small smile splits into a quick grin that stutters the already erratic beat of your heart. Oh yes, this man is certifiably lethal in all the best ways.

"I'm happy to hear it. Now, let's sit ya down with the girls while I grab some things."

Izumi has already led Reina to a table by the window and Osamu gestures their way as he moves to lock the door behind where you came in and then moves off to the kitchen behind the bar again.

You notice with a little apprehension that the girls are sitting next to each other on one side of the booth still giddily talking together (although not over each other anymore) about friends and weekend plans and such, but you're not going to be the anxious oddball that separates them for seemingly no reason. Even if you're already sure of the overthinking you'll be doing at the thought of Samu sitting next to you in the booth.

He doesn't seem to think about it at all as he easily slides in, smoothly setting a plate and a tray with cups, glasses and a couple pitchers on the table just as you feel the left side of his body line up against your right. Okay, yeah, because this is totally normal for you. Not.

You hope neither he and especially not either of the kids can tell you're flustered, even as you feel the heat creep up your neck and flirt with your cheeks. Yup, normal day, normal day. Just a regular day with a new friend.

"Here ya go." You just hold yourself back from jumping when he hands you a cup from the tray and then leans over to pour what looks and smells like tea from one of the pitchers. If you're not going crazy, he's pressed even more against you for those long seconds, completely in your space even if it's not unwelcome.

He either knows exactly what he's doing or he's just one of those people that's never paid mind to polite social norms and rules of conduct that many prefer. While you're calming yourself down, he's already poured the girls juice from the second pitcher into their glasses and set out quarter plates in front of everyone.

You finally focus enough to take in the still steaming gyoza on the plate he'd placed down in the middle with confusion and ask, "I thought we would be making onigiri and eating it for lunch?"

"Of course, but I couldn't put ya to work on an empty stomach."

"Mhm." You give him a dubious look, you might have mentioned your early breakfast in one of your texts to him this morning, but you have a feeling that this is also an effort to make you and Reina feel comfortable in this space together instead of getting right into the cooking lessons planned for the day.

It's an incredibly thoughtful effort and that warm flush is threatening you again so you choose to tease him and deflect instead, "Somehow, I feel it's more about your empty stomach but okay, let's go with your version instead."

You lose the fight with the flush and flutters when he chuckles at your sassy retort, especially since you literally feel the vibrations melt from his body and into yours with the way he's still somewhat pressed into you. Does the man not have enough space in his own booth? Actually... you notice you can move closer to the window yourself since there's quite a bit of space on your side too but, then again, it would be a little obvious to shift now.

The girls pick up the fried dumplings by hand with happy exclamations as they bite right into theirs, you and Osamu following suit but not before placing another two on the plates in front of each of them and then splitting the remaining ones between you.

With a dip into the soy and vinegar sauce (chili excluded for the girls), you quickly bite into the first one and savour the sudden burst of flavour in your mouth. Oh wow, yes, this is exactly what your cooking is missing. This addictive, tasteful quality that makes you want multiple helpings of whatever's being served.

With a glance from the corner of your eye to the right, you meet Osamu's eyes studying your reaction and decide to ask the question on your mind, "You made these yourself right?"

"I did."

"Okay, they're hands down the best gyoza I've ever had." You compliment him genuinely before giving in to the urge to tease him yet again because the flutters are back, if they ever even left, and you can't have him knowing just how much he affects you, "But who ever heard of serving gyoza in an onigiri shop?"

He must catch the light, teasing tone because he just smirks and throws right back, "Well if they're as good as ya say, maybe I should expand the menu."

"Oh no, don't do that!" You laugh with wide eyes, "Then Reina and I will never find space when we try to come back here during regular hours! Actually, I'm sure you're already always packed, hm?"

"Some days and times less than others, but there will always be space for the two of ya whenever ya want to visit again."

Oh yeah, it's a losing battle, the flutters are a full on tsunami of feelings now. Just push it away and chill. But then he adds, "And I can teach ya this recipe too. Anytime there's something ya like or want to try, just let me know. I'm sure we can make an amazing cook outta ya yet."

Your mouth drops open followed by your blurted question, "Why are you helping me so much? I'm sure this is a lot of time and effort for you too."

You hear the girls' conversation pause as they pick up on some subtle change in either your body language or demeanour, but Osamu's calm eyes just meet your wide ones, his lips sliding into a soft smile, as he simply answers, "Because I like ya."

You feel like you're back in grade school because you want to ask if he means that he 'like' likes you or just... likes you. But there's no way you're going to ask that question, not only because it feels a bit asinine but because that's not a conversation to start in front of both of your daughters.

You look over to the girls who are watching with beaming smiles, maybe happy their parents are good friends just like the two of them, and you return their wide grins with a reassuring one of your own before looking back into steady grey eyes. "Well, I really appreciate your help. Thank you, Osamu."

"I'd say no thanks needed, but I've been down that road before." Another quick, heart-stopping grin graces his face, this one almost as roguish as his tone is playful. He's definitely referring to your initial correspondence when you made a firm point against his initial brush off, as if his actions in making extra lunch for your daughter to enjoy wasn't incredibly thoughtful and certainly out of his way.

"Well you certainly catch on quick. Let's just hope I can say the same." Your playful smile turns into a grimace at the thought of how difficult it might be to actually improve your skills. Maybe it's just a question of talent? Maybe you're just never going to be able to reproduce food like him.

But he glances over to catch your frown just in time and reassures, "I know what I'm doing. Soon enough, you will too. Just say you'll keep supplying me and Zumi with yer baking every once in a while when ya don't need us anymore."

You know he's probably joking with the last part but you hadn't planned on stopping. You love to share the goodies you bake with the people in your and Reina's life, it makes the two of you pretty happy so you're sure Izumi and Osamu will be able continue enjoying your baked goods to their heart's content.

"Izumi will definitely get her share of sweets and snacks every day." You send a smile her way when she hears you and bounces excitedly in her seat but then you force yourself to drop it and face Osamu with a challenging look instead, "But you... well, I guess we'll have to wait and if you're as good as you say and maybe then you can get some too."

He places a closed hand to his chest as if he's been struck, the girls laughing at his overdramatic reaction, but his widening smile gives him away. You look at each other for a suspended moment, with shared amusement but also the teasing heat of something else reflected in his achromatic eyes, which makes you certain he picked up on the unintended double entendre in your words.

"Sounds like a promise." Then with an arched eyebrow at the empty plates and cups in front of everyone, Samu asks, "So shall we get started?"

You agree, helping him clean up the table and he takes the opportunity to help you and Reina familiarize yourselves with the kitchen. The rest of the afternoon is spent in an equally easy cadence as he does indeed walk you through the steps of making his recipes, flavours included.

He starts with the simplest option, yaki onigiri, which is just fried rice shaped in a triangle or oval, and then demonstrates how to make and add a few of your and Reina's favourite fillings in to change and enhance the flavour. The girls enjoy making their own mini rice balls alongside the two of you and the time flies until you're all back at the table and having the onigiri you've just made for lunch.

You can't deny there's an improvement already but your little rice balls are still nowhere near the level of skill and flavour of Osamu's, even though he and the girls all assure you that you've done a great job. You accept their compliments with a smile and the determination to keep at it on your own time until you improve even further because Reina deserves better than even this.

By the time you finish eating, the girls are unsurprisingly tired out and choose to stay at the table to watch a Disney movie with Izumi's iPad. You can't help but smile in amusement while watching Osamu grab the thing from behind the bar, tapping away on the clunky looking device which is perfect for Izumi with a thick, pink rubber cover protecting it from grade-schooler level damage.

After the movie's been set up for the two worn out little munchkins, you and Osamu head back into the kitchen for him to show you how to make the gyoza and the next hour slips away with more teasing jokes, increasingly heated looks, and slightly bolder touches.

You can close your eyes and now know the feel of Osamu's hands on yours, demonstrating how to properly fold and pleat the wrappers. You can still feel the heat of his chest brush your back from when he leaned around you to pick up an empty bowl to place in the sink, and you're pondering on what feels like a heated brand on your hip where he lightly curved one hand to shift you over.

You can't deny your attraction to the man, a slow fall that you should have seen coming from the excitement of receiving his words every day until you were eagerly expecting the notes, to this first meeting where he's everything you expected from reading between his lines and even more.

Since the girls are pretty much full, you and Osamu clean off the new batch of gyoza between the both of you - him more than you, which you tease him about again. All the while, you're panicking about this new realization of your feelings, given that you're seriously crushing on a man who might only mean to help as a newfound friend and maybe you're the one reading too much into his interactions.

It's not until you've helped him clean up, collected the girls, and are watching him lock up the shop that you get some semblance of an answer.

"Thank you again Osamu. This was not only very instructive but Reina and I had a great time today."

He's holding Izumi's small hand in his, similar to Reina's in yours, and his other hand stretches up to rub at the back of his head, his arm bent at the elbow. When he speaks, it's not a direct response to your gratitude but a question instead, sounding somewhat unsure himself for the first time today, "How about next time we have a date that's more fun than instructive?"

Your jaw almost drops in surprise but you quickly collect yourself because he's still looking a little worried, maybe because he thinks he's overstepping by calling this a date or maybe because he's not sure you'll want another one even if you do accept that.

Your smile is quick to light up your face and, with a light squeeze from Reina's hand to yours accompanied by her and Izumi's giggles, you happily reply, "Just let me know when and where, and it's a date."

He grins again, the third time today your heart stops at what you're sure is usually a rarer sight since bodies aren't always dropping to the ground around him (that you've heard of). "I think I might already have something in mind."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, but let me look into it and get back to ya."

"Sounds like a promise."

With your final reply, a borrowed echo of his words to serve as a temporary goodbye, you and Reina split away from Izumi and Osamu. Heading for your car with once last look behind you, you're pleasantly unsurprised to find a flash of gunmetal grey also glancing back your way. Later that night, finished with your and Reina's joint skincare routine and having tucked her into bed, you find the expected message waiting for you.

A/N: Okay wow I had SO much fun with this one! I hope you all do too <3 It's not triple edited per usual so please do let me know if you catch any errors or issues. No promises but probably dropping Atsumu’s First Meeting next ;)

Taglist: @yatoatyourservice, @crayonwriting

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hoodieofholland · 3 years

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Handsome Man // Professor!Tom

Summary: you think your professor is a really good-looking man and let it slip out of your mouth.

Word count: ~2.9k

Warnings: none, except for some swearing.

A/n: I really liked writing the prof!tom universe and made it longer now (thanks anon that motivated me to write more about it). taking a moment to add that i always get this feeling that first encounter between reader and professor tom would be like fluffy as hell, he'd be so polite and that fucking accent of him ugghhh. Perfect. Anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

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"Good morning, everyone!"

You raise your head abruptly, snapped out of your thoughts. Which, by the way, were all directed to the man who was walking down to his desk with a sweet yet confident smile on his face.

"You all are looking so excited with Monday" he says playfully and the class laughs. "Hope I'm worth your tired time here this morning".

You straighten your back, picking pen and book from your backpack as Professor Holland organizes his materials on the wood desk.

You weren't a square at classes or anything like that. But surely you were never late for English classes, neither badly dressed up. You always made sure to pick your best outfit, not leaving out the professional look, all to impress your favorite professor.

Not that you were silly enough to believe something would come out from that strictly professional relationship, but it was inevitable for you wanting to feel pretty around him, as your imagination flew wild whenever he stepped in the classroom.

Professor Holland was really something else. He wasn't only a handsome man, with a noticeable muscular body hidden behind the much formal clothes he wore. He wasn't only the youngest professor in that department. He was intelligent, had a good sense of humor and was incredibly polite.

You could tell by the way girls always seemed to be extra interested on this class that you weren't the only one in the room to feel attracted to your professor.

You always made sure to ne early so you could take a seat in the front row, not to claim for his attention, but to be able to pain attention to the lecture and also get the opportunity to have a good look at him once in a while, mostly when he was distracted, sitting at his desk and taking notes on the classes' essays.

By the end of the lesson, he dismissed the students and you started to pack your things, barely motivated to your next classes. Now that you wouldn't have your professor's look to distract you a bit, it really felt like fucking Monday.

There were only around four students left in the room, and you, who was caring your notebook and pencil on your hands, walking directly to Professor Holland's desk clarify his small notes he took on your essay from last week.

Three girls were standing around his desk, smiling widely as he explained something that were on the board.

"But, Professor Holland..." one of the girls asked the same stupid question again, letting his name roll along her tongue, as she was savoring it. You roll your eyes, flicking your feet as you waited impatiently for your chance to have a time with him.

Professor Holland sighed and gently tried to reassure the group of girls that they could have the assistant to solve their other questions, as he was running out of time and there was another person he had to assist.

Finally, the girls gave in and passed through you, taking the time to send you a look. You just shrugged it off and walked to the Professor's desk.

"Miss. Y/l/n" he greets your, a small smile forming of his lips. Your stomach felt like flipping inside of you and you tried to keep your composure as you reached his desk. "Any questions left?"

"Actually, Professor..." you handed him the paper, a bit ashamed of he remembering it was yours and connecting the words you wrote down with your face. It was so much easier when you didn't see your professor reading your text. "I marked some of the notes you wrote and didn't understand, if you could help me".

He looked over the text, a wrinkle of concentration between his brows, and just when he lifted his gaze back to you, you felt your heart fastening.

"Of course", he gives you a tightlipped smile, grabbing a pen to point some of the corrections to you. "See, there weren't any big mistake on this, you could say I'm just a perfectionist. Actually, this was one of the best essays from the class".

Your eyes light up immediately, feeling too enthusiastic for the compliment. "Thank you, Sir. It means a lot".

Professor Holland nodded once, averting his eyes from you for a moment, his face taking on a more stern look. Then he started to explain his notes and you felt more relaxed as you notice it wasn't really that big of mistakes. You listened with full attention and commented on what you felt like could improve on your writing.

"I feel like if you take your time to rewrite it and survey some of your constructions, this text will be more than excellent" he pointed, handing you the paper again, a proud smile on his lips. Then, he chuckled a bit, playfully, "Obviously, the first score is the one that will be considered for your grade, so it's up to you. But I think it'll be a great work".

You smile happily. "Sure, I'll do it", you take the paper back again and put it inside your folder. Looking at the wall clock, you just notice it's too long past the break between classes. "Shit, I didn't realize it was past your lessons' time already. I'm sorry, I should be going-"

"It's alright, Miss. Y/l/n". He sends you a reassurance smile, putting a hand over yours for a brief moment, but that didn't make it go under your notice. "I'm always satisfied to waste a little more time on my most dedicated students, and even more glad that your questions wasn't about lessons itself", he grimaces and you could tell what he was referring too. "Not in my best behavior saying it out loud, but I was starting to think I wasn't doing a great explanation".

You laugh a bit and shake your head. "Oh, you shouldn't worry about it. I'm pretty sure you're the best professor from this department. Plus, those girls weren't seriously having a problem with the subject" you roll your eyes softly, still smiling, but not quite realising what you had just said.

Professor Holland scowls, face confused as he catches your last sentence. "What do you mean?"

You froze, eyes widening as you gulp. "I-I mean- like, you were explaining it for the fourth time already... it wasn't possible that they didn't get it. I think they were more interested on... you know?".

He narrow his eyes, quirked his brow questioning, expecting you to explain yourself. A shiver pass through your body, embarrassment running right to your blushing cheeks as you struggle to find a proper answer.

"I mean, I think they were interested on... you". You almost cough, looking for somewhere else to stare in the room, avoiding your Professor's concentrated eyes. But as silent is completely made, you have to make sure he isn't mad at your stupid comment. Averting your eyes back at him, you are surprised to be met with his brown ones filled with what seemed amusement.

He was supporting his chin on his fist, a curious look covering his soft feature, hiding a smile behind the thumb pressed against his lips.

"Why would you think that?" He asked in the same amused tone and you never felt more stupid.

You wanted to slap your forehead and hide your entire self on the closest bathroom, but Professor Holland had those glistening brown soft eyes on you, nothing but a relaxed face put in your display, his sultry voice - which you were pretty sure wouldn't sound like this on purpose - incentivanting you to continue.

You cleared your throat and collected your devilish thoughts to think straight.

"I guess most of the girls here think you're, y'know, a handsome man" you shrugged, wanting so much sound casual, as that wasn't your personal opinion.

Mr. Holland raised his eyebrows, you couldn't tell if it was surprise for your answer or for your courage on saying that out loud. Maybe both.

"Did you hear that?", he questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. "From those girls?"

He got you. You knew that. He knew you were just making assumptions, which meant that could only be your own opinion expressed on the vision you had over other students.

"No", you answered under your breath, gulping. "It's just a guess".

Silent was made and you felt terrified. You truly started to think that Mr. Holland was planning the most tough comments on your behavior, that he would try to show you how unprofessional and not ethic at all was your opinion about him, that he was your professor and you were his student, nothing beyond that. But then he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair as his eyes concentrated on you.

He looked like someone who was pondering something, but your nervousness calmed down a little bit at the way he had his gaze over you. Though his eyes were dark, that couldn't be so bad, if he didn't have a mad expression on.

"Is it what you think?" He tried again, the corner of his mouth threatening to quirk. "Do you think I'm a handsome man?"

You close your eyes briefly, feeling past ashamed of it. "I'm sorry, it's pathetic, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Miss. Y/l/n" he chuckles softly. "Don't make a big deal out of it. After all, I'm not much older than you, am I? Shouldn't be so wrong to have an opinion about my looking".

He was taking it so calmly that you couldn't believe. Maybe he was right, maybe it wasn't a big deal. Or maybe he was so used to having girls head over heels for him that it didn't get on his nerves anymore.

You sigh and decide to agree better than discuss anything and make more shame on yourself. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know that-"

"Mr. Holland?"

A voice interrupt him, and you turn your head abruptly to see another professor standing in the door frame, a case on his hand, eyes going between both of you. "Sorry for interrupting, but I'm giving my next lesson here. Is it taking too long, or...?"

"Oh, no", Mr. Holland smiled fondly and stood up, gathering his things from the desk. "Pardon me, didn't realize it was so late. Miss y/l/n, do you have any more questions left?"

You narrow your eyes at him, a bit taken aback as you knew you weren't making any questions seconds prior. He was lying, lying about the reason why the two of you were stuck in his classroom for so long. So you just nodded back and corrected your face.

"No, I'm fine, Sir. Thanks for your time" you smiled a little before turning in your heels.

The other man entered the class and started to put his things above the table, with Mr. Holland beside him. You were about to step out of the room when you hear your professor talking to you.

"Oh, and Miss. Y/l/n?" You turned your head to look at him again. He smiled. "It'd be lovely if you rewrite that essay. You can pass by my office later to show me your corrections, if you want to".

You blink, too surprised to answer right away. With a pounding heart on your chest, you nod, wishing nothing but to work on that useless essay as soon as possible.

____________

The day passes quickly, your mind too occupied with your essay. Missing some of your later classes, you saved time to stay until 6pm in the library, trying to come out with the of your writing whilst correcting the mistakes Mr. Holland pointed for you.

Certainly, that was the most dedicated you've ever been for a work.

But you couldn't resist the anxiety running through your body as you thought about walking down that aisle in the Professor Holland's office direction.

Again, you weren't expecting anything beyond him reading your text again, but the thought of seeing him alone one time was exciting itself.

You finish your work and put the paper inside a case, gathering everything together and walking straight to the aisle of English department.

It was empty and quiet, not a sight of any students neither professors around, as it was past the last lectures for the day.

Taking a few good breathes, you smooth your hand down your skirt before knocking softly on Professor Holland office's door.

"Come in!"

You turn the handle and open the door, closing it behind you. Mr. Holland looked tired, eyes heavy under his glasses. He also seemed busy, reading a book and taking his notes.

"Oh, Miss Y/l/n", he smiles warmly when his eyes lift to your face, waving a hand for you to take a seat in front of his desk. "Glad to see you. I suppose you made the corrections on your essay?"

You smile and nod, sitting down before reaching your paper in your backpack. "I added some other points I thought about when reading again", you hand him your essay and he takes it, fingers touching yours briefly, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Great" he looked over the paper, reading more cautiously at some point in the middle, where the biggest changes were made. He seemed impressed with your work and you couldn't help but feel the euphoria by each time the curve of his lips seemed to form a smile.

You looked over his office. It was small, but enough for one person only. There was a shelf full of books and a pretty tiny table across the room, cups, water and what you assumed to be tea inside a bottle on top of that.

"It's really cozy here" you speak out loud, more to yourself, wandering and picturing Mr. Holland sitting beside his little table and taking his tea while reading one of the shelf's book.

He smiles, lifting his glance from the paper to your face, which was still looking around. "You like it?"

You blink a few times before answering, a bit embarrassed that he caught your vague comment. "Yeah". His face held nothing but a contemplating look. "It must feel really good to have an office all to yourself".

Mr. Holland laughs quietly. "I don't spend too much time here to appreciate that much, actually", he admits. "Most of my time in the building is spent in classrooms and I pretty much like taking my work home, so... But, yes, it's good".

"I'd like it. Y'know, having somewhere you can take a time off and even have lunch when everywhere else is so full of people". You make your point, shrugging.

Something crosses Mr. Holland's face, but he quickly make it disappear.

"Well", he says, looking at your essay again after clearing his throat. "I like it very much. Not a single mistake this time. I can say properly now that this is the best essay I received for last week's work".

You smile widely. "Thank you, Mr. Holland".

He look up at your again, a small and hesitating smile on his lips. "You can call me Tom", when you open your mouth and say anything, he continues, "If you want. Mr. Holland just makes me feel so old".

You laugh at his grimace. "Oh, you're nothing near old, no worry on that".

Tom smiles more freely, if not smugly, and you feel your cheeks darkening in pink.

"Yeah, you think I'm... a handsome man, right?" He teases you and for a moment, it's not like your formal and professional professor is the one in the room anymore. You smiles sheepishly, bitting your lips to try to contain it.

"I'm sorry for that again", you shake your head, but Tom whines.

"If you don't stop with your apologies, I'm going to give you another essay to write". He says playfully. "I'm just joking, y/n".

Hearing your first name coming out of his mouth warms your heart and you feel like exploding in excitement.

"Wouldn't be such a punishment, I think" you admit, looking to your hands.

Tom narrows his eyes, corner of his mouth raising in a smile again. "And why is that?"

You bite your lower lips, pressing your fingers in the palm of your hand nervously as you think about what you're saying next, "Well, if it meant I'd have to come here to show you, I'd gladly write one".

Tom takes your answer slowly, smile growing on his face and he chuckles softly. "Really?"

"Yeah", you nod.

Tom stares at you for the following seconds and it's just as when you glance at the clock in his desk that yiu realize you've spent too much time inside his office.

"I think I gotta go now", you say, standing up and picking your backpack and essay. It wouldn't look good a student getting out of a professor's office so late in the night.

Tom smiled sadly and got up too, watching as you made your way to the door. But before you could open it, you remembered you last talk in the classroom.

"Tom?" You tested the name on your lips, savoring the liberty he had just given to you. He looked at you, waiting. "What was it you were going to say before that professor entered the classroom?"

He took a few seconds thinking and then a trace of a small smile came to his features.

"I was just going to say that I appreciate your compliment" he licks his lips and you smile. "Also, that you should know I think you're pretty gorgeous too".

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #professor!tom #prof!tom #professor!tom x reader #tom x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines

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crazybutgood · 3 years

Text

International Tea Day!

(Drarry tea blend by Ela Spearlot)

International Tea Day is celebrated on 15th Dec in many tea-producing countries since 2005. Apparently, the UN changed the date to 21 May this year and I didn’t know until recently :( Oh well, I’m still going to celebrate it today, and I thought I’d use this opportunity to do something using two of my absolute favourite things: tea and Drarry. Here are some lovely fics involving tea that will warm you up like a good, steaming cuppa <3 (special thanks to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for her great feedback and for helping me put this together, and to @sitp-recs for your helpful tips and kind words)

Bite-sized:

Tea at three by @dorthyanndrarry (T, ~8.9k)

Draco Malfoy is the head potion brewer for the Ministry's onsite supply. Every day at three he goes to the nearest break room which coincidentally happens to be the auror break room, where he always seems to run into Harry Potter, who might also be waiting just for him. It's most certainly not the highlight of his day and he certainly doesn't hold anything other than friendly feelings towards Potter. It's just tea. Nothing more than tea at three.

A sweet fic where these two dorks finally get together with some help from their friends. Warnings for blood and injury in one scene.

A special blend of you and me by germankitty (T, 4.5k)

Draco finds a bunch of letters in Professor Snape's effects that were written by Lily Evans to her best friend at school, Marlene McKinnon. He passes them on to Harry, who consequently starts his own correspondence with Draco. (inspired by Tea and Lost Letters: Lily to Marlene by Kikimay)

A charming epistolary fic, featuring a great selection of teas, snarky and amusing letters that become progressively less formal and more intimate, and a delightful surprise by Draco at the end.

Portkey for Tea by @lettersbyelise (T, ~1.8k)

Draco is doing a two months residency at a Wizarding hospital in San Diego. Harry misses him too much to wait for him to come back to England.

How far would you travel for a special someone a cup of tea? Lovely established relationship fic with the two missing each other and Harry doing something about it.

Red Roses and Rousing Rumours by @dracogotgame (T, ~1.4k)

Draco's taste for rose water tea puts him in hot water.

A super cute one-shot where a misunderstanding on Harry’s part leads to Draco snagging a date with him (after being asked out in the sweetest way!)

Prompts: I love you - Over a Cup of Tea by @cibeewastaken (G, 362)

(this was my ask lol) Short one-shot of soft moments and tea flowers.

Prompts: I love you - On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair by @cibeewastaken (G, 745)

Another lovely one-shot with sun tea and little Teddy trying to cheer Draco up. Featuring Teddy’s sweet innocence, shy boys in love and a confession that will warm your heart.

Why Is Our Teapot Wearing a Hat? by @ladderofyears (G, microfic, 50)

Adorable microfic based on the prompt ‘cosy’.

Rotten work by @prolix- (T, 792)

You start to cry after the war.

You tell Ron and Hermione that it's nothing, that it'll pass. You're just exhausted. It’s more than that, of course it is, but they don't question it. And you learn to hide the fact that you can still be found hunched over your kitchen sink after a party, fat tears rolling down your face, years after the war has passed.

He knows better.

Heart-achingly beautiful fic with lovely tea metaphors. Featuring sad yet tender moments between the boys, healing and hope. Warnings for implied/referenced PTSD, angst, crying and hurt/comfort)

Curl up with a cuppa to enjoy these longer fics:

Where There is Tea by @bafflinghaze (T, ~12.6k)

Somewhere in London, overlooking a garden, sits a little tea room. There, Harry finds tea, distraction, books, conversation, inspiration, himself, and Draco Malfoy.

Featuring Tea Master!Draco and Writer!Harry, this is a heartwarming story of supportive friends, coming out, self-discovery and a lovely buildup of friendship between Harry and Draco that blossoms into something more. Lots of amazing and familiar teas to look out for that you wish you were tasting along with the patrons at Draco’s tea shop.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, ~70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Draco’s stuck in a time loop until he figures out what he has to do to get out of it — learning, growing and becoming a better person with much help from his mother, Hagrid, and Harry, and conversations over tea.

Headlights in the Snow by Saras_Girl (M, ~71.6k)

What’s big and purple and smells like tea? Harry is about to find out.

Advent fic 2016.

Harry has bizarre adventures with Knight Bus conductor Draco and the lovely passengers. A cosy Christmas advent getting-together fic featuring fun bus rides and on-board tea.

Special mention of fics that I associate with tea also kind of in order to remember them:

For the greater good by @jadepresley (E, ~62k)

When Harry and Draco discover they’ve been bonded to one another, neither one of them is prepared for the secrets they slowly begin to uncover.

Together, they learn that they can’t escape their past, or the things that have been left hidden there, and that sometimes the only way to move forward is to look back.

An accidental bonding fic that I absolutely adore

Malfoy rolls his eyes. “I’m not a monster, Potter, you arsehole. Though I do think you’re delusional if you think the whole wizarding world doesn’t love you.”

Harry shakes his head. “No. They love the idea of me. They love the stories. But they don’t… they don’t know how I take my tea in the morning, do they?”

“Excuse me?”

Harry flushes. He hadn’t meant to say that. Bloody Firewhisky. “It’s just this thing I believe. And Emmet — my ex — never knew. It’s… nevermind, you’ll think it's stupid.”

“That’s definitely possible,” Malfoy agrees seriously. “But you should tell me anyway.”

“You’re a prat, you know,” Harry tells him. Malfoy just smirks, making Harry sigh. “Fine,” he concedes. “It’s just... The way you take your tea is one of those small details about yourself that no one else would really know unless they asked. But... someone who really gives a shit about you would know — they’d ask or they’d notice — because they’d care enough to want to know. And Emmet... well, he just never cared enough about me to learn how I take my tea.”

I love that this fic uses this idea, partly also because this is something I’ve thought of too, not just for romantic relationships but relationships in general, and I was so happy to see it used in this fic.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound (E, ~149.5k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Discovering this fic was one of the best things ever. It’s an emotional roller coaster. Harry and Draco eventually go from polite coworkers, to tentative friends, to lovers — of course with a lot of drama and angst in between. These two bicker about so many things. One of them is how Harry never makes the tea hot enough, and it’s used throughout the fic in many important and special moments of their relationship.

Happy reading!

#international tea day #fic rec #drarry rec list #mine #tea #drarry #cbg fic rec

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anissanightyoung · 3 years

Text

Of kisses and Roman traditions

[SUMMARY] Where Seungkwan enjoys kissing you and blames it on the Romans.

Idk what this is. Fluff? Flirty!Seungkwan definitely. Oh and noona!reader😁

3,087 words

HAPPY 6 YEARS TO MY BOYS💖💎

masterlist

You and Seungkwan have already kissed on three occasions. You didn't want to put too much thought into it, and you never mentioned it anyway. But sometimes it's hard to stop thinking about what those kisses mean.

The first kiss was at Seungkwan's house. All your friends were already asleep, tired of playing all his board games, and drunk innumerable bottles of liquor. You had finished cleaning up when Seungkwan came towards you. "Yah, why did you clean? This is my apartment.” You laughed at his half-asleep state, you could see just how tired he was trying to beat Soonyoung with one drunk. He did his best, but Soonyoung kept giving him +2s and +4s of tequila or vodka and mixing alcohol in Seungkwan's system ended badly. He threw up twice overnight.

"Look at you, hangover's gonna bite your ass in the morning. And you know I can't sleep when this place is trashed." You can hear him laughing lazily, trying to stay awake. "Come on, let's get you to bed." Seungkwan grins, "Starving. Creamy cheese bagels. Feed me?" You laughed at his antiques. You met him a year ago, and you know drunk Seungkwan needs to eat before he goes to bed. "This is a way of waking up hangover-free, noona. You should try it." But you know that Seungkwan will still have a headache the following day, with an Americano as a telling sign.

"You're too cute for your own good, do you know that?" You joked to him, shaking your head. You were warming up the bagel when he took your hand. "Happy anniversary, noona."

"What?"

"Do you think I wouldn't remember? It's the anniversary of the first time we met.”

"What a sappy, sappy man you are." You laugh while finishing his sandwich. You turned around to face him and said "ah" so he could take a bite out of the bagel. When he did, it was as if he had tasted food for the first time. When he had already swallowed his first bite, he suddenly threw his arms into your waist, swallowing you in a cuddle. That surprised you because he's not usually that sweet, and now he's very touchy.

"What are you doing?" You asked him when he set his bagel down on the counter and tugged the ends of your shirt pulling you closer to him. This is the only time you have noticed how he is a few inches taller than you, and that he has long eyelashes a bit like those of a baby. You were that close to notice that. He slowly bent over your face, staring directly at your lips, waiting for you to stop him. When you didn't, he closed the gap between the two of you and kissed you softly.

When he retired, he laid his head upon the counter and slept his intoxication away. You figured he’s too wasted to have done so. When you asked about the kiss the next day, he brushed it off, saying, “Sorry, got wasted trying to beat that tiger hyung.”

“Just don’t do it again okay? Friends don’t do that.”

“Yepp,” popping the last letter, “I’ll take you to your favorite burger place to make it up to you.” He drags you to his car while holding your hand. When he was driving, he held your hand still. “Hey, it's not okay to kiss, but it's okay to hold hands?” There was complete silence.

“Friends can hold hands, sure. When did friends start kissing on the lips?

“Friends with benefits do.”

“Ya are you asking me to? Cause you know I’m not into that kind of shit!”

Seungkwan laughed at your outburst. “Joking noona, sheesh. You’re getting old.”

“Shut it, I’m barely a year older than you.”

Throughout the ride, he didn't let go of your hand. However, you didn't seem to mind the extra warmth.

The second kiss took place around a campfire.

Soonyoung told the three of you that he wanted to go for a drive, and you were shocked when he suddenly parked by a beach. You never asked how Soonyoung got all of your clothes and other belongings, but he seemed to need the view of a peaceful ocean at night, so you all decided. You were already there, and the semester had just ended.

While you and Seungkwan were eating dinner you bought near the store, Seokmin began jamming to a guitar and singing his heart out. Soonyoung was on the lookout for the beach's caretaker to inquire about some wood for a campfire.

“I swear, I know Soonyoung oppa is the most spontaneous of us all, but I never expected him to be this bad. Is it really because of the finals?”

“He may look carefree, but hyung goes through a lot,” Seokmin chuckled. You understand; everybody has their own way of dealing with their baggage, and Soonyoung's are to be daring and laugh his problems away.

“Minnie, can you play the song you submitted for your music class as a group project?” Campfire?” You believe it is appropriate for the atmosphere of the evening. While Seokmin was singing, you glanced over at Soonyoung to see how he was doing. His smile is beaming, and his eyes are glassy as he takes in the stunning scenery in front of him. You were relieved to see that his plan worked.

You looked at Seungkwan, realizing that this was his first time hearing the track. “Kwannie, pay attention to the next line. It's comforting.” You sang with Seokmin when the part came up. It reminds you of how Seungkwan made getting out of bed easier every day. Your anxiety held you awake at night or made you fearful of what might happen the next day. But Seungkwan, he unintentionally shone on you at a difficult period. Slowly but steadily, you began to anticipate waking up knowing that he would face the day with you.

Soonyoung accompanied Seokmin to the market to buy some food after he finished jamming due to his hunger. It was time for you to jam. Of course, you'd choose Taylor Swift's The Way I Loved You, in honor of her Fearless cover. You've always admired Taylor Swift's music, especially the older songs because you identify with the words she wrote. You were grateful for how her music got you through your childish heartbreaks.

You were so engrossed in Seungkwan's angelic voice that you didn't know he was already squatting in front of you. Both of you were grinning at each other when the last chord was struck, and you kissed him as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. The kiss felt right; it felt like it was what completed the song you were singing; it felt like the happy ending the song promised. To keep your balance, you clutched his arm. When you jerked away from him when you awoke from your daydream, he immediately drew you back in and kissed you again, squeezing your hand three times.

The four of you had agreed to spend Christmas Day at Seokmin's. Your mother didn't let you hear the end of it when you told them you couldn't come home because your family has always been conventional. Your mother guilt-tripping you to come home, saying, "We're family, we're supposed to spend time together." “Ah, well, families are supposed to support one another, not nag each other to death when one fails to meet one's expectations.” After that, you hang up, assuming that if you don't agree, your mother will say something else that you don't want or need to hear.

Seungkwan was supposed to pick you up, so while you were waiting for him, you double-checked everything you'd packed to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything. Seungkwan's introduction of Soonyoung and Seokmin is one of the things for which you are grateful. You've outgrown your crappy friends from high school, so the trio is a breath of fresh air for you.

You place your bags in the trunk as soon as you see his car, like a little kid heading to Disney World. “Thanks for picking me up, Kwannie,” she said, beaming. You excitedly slid down to the passenger seat. He immediately hugged you once you were sitting, saying, "Ah noona, you're in a good mood?" You can see his smile doesn't reach his eyes when you've broken free from the embrace. He's giving you a fake one.

“This is my first trip away from my home. I already know it'll be a lot of fun.”

“Really? At Seokmin Hyung's house, you'll feel right at home. His mother prepares the most delicious Christmas dinner. My mother's cooking pales in comparison.” Seungkwan once gave you a dish made by her mother, and one bite was enough to make you feel like you'd died and gone peacefully to heaven. The fact that Seokmin's mother cooks better piqued your curiosity. “Ah really? Then I'd really have to give it a taste.” He smiled again, the false smile, and you're starting to get bothered by it.

“What are you doing, Kwannie?” You're giving me this strange grin.”

“What do you mean strange?”

“Fake smile. It's the first time you've feigned a smile at me. What’s up?”

“You can see right through me, can't you?”

“Yes, I do. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Nope. But I'd like to take your hand.”

Seungkwan is holding your hand and exhaling contentedly. He kept it until you arrived at Seokmin's house.

Seokmin's house is warm and inviting. They live in a house on a corner with a vibrant garden surrounding it. The living room has an L-shaped couch that can comfortably seat all four of you, with additional seating available. Seokmin and his sister have a wall full of family photos and accomplishments. You can tell Seokmin's parents are a laid-back, loving family, as shown by his kindness and good humor. You don't know if it was the long ride, but you fell asleep as soon as you sat on their couch after the house tour.

When you first awoke, you chose to visit their garden, which you recall has a swing set. Seungkwan is seated by himself.

You teased, "Where are your twins?"

“They went grocery shopping with Mrs. Lee.”

“What kept you from going?”

“Too exhausted from driving.”

“Then you should've just slept with me.”

Seungkwan swung his head in your direction right away. “I-uh, what?”

Then it dawned on you what you'd said. This is so humiliating. “Sleep!” you exclaimed, “Sleeping, with eyes closed and resting-“

“I never expected you to finally ask me-”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHEN YOU SAY "FINALLY" YOU LITTLE SHIT?”

He laughed out loud at your reaction while you chased him around the backyard. He quit running around after you told him that you wouldn't smack him in the head.

“I hate you.”

That made Seungkwan stop laughing.

“Do you regret meeting me?”

You were surprised at his sudden change of tone, no longer joking. “Is this what it’s all about?”

“Well. Yeah.”

“I'm not sure what got you to think like that. You said, “But you know our first meeting was a flop.” When people meet for the first time, they usually ask for each other's names, go through some more tedious formalities, and then seal the deal with a handshake. You had an early class with him, and you didn't mind sharing a seat with him almost every time because you thought he was one of the quiet ones. The year was difficult for you because things didn't go your way, you had a lot of misfortunes, and you had a lot of work piling up that was affecting your mental health.

As you sat down in your chair one fateful morning, you put your cup of coffee on your side of the table. This is where Seungkwan got his drink mixed up with yours because you both have the same coffee taste.

“- flop is an exaggeration for that noona-”

“-you drank my coffee in our 8 a.m. class thinking it was yours, I'll never forgive you.” Reliving that moment made you roll your eyes. “But you know what? You wouldn't have replaced it if you hadn't, and I wouldn't have had the best year of my life.” It may seem to be an exaggeration, but it is true. You were grateful for Seungkwan's carefree and playful personality, which helped you get through your lowest point. He had no idea what you were going through, but you were relieved that someone was taking care of you.

He can be seen chewing his mouth, attempting to conceal his smile. “Ah dumb main character in a drama,” air quotes the phrase, ‘I wish I hadn't met you.' “I instantly thought of you.”

“Huh, that's strange.”

“What is?”

“That. As I previously said, this has been the best year I've had in, what, three years? And it's all thanks to you. I might be harsh with you all of the time, cursing at you whenever I get the chance, but that's just how I am. I'm glad I got you as one of my most reliable friends, my rock, and my go-to person. Even Seokmin and Soonyoung oppa were introduced to me by you. Seungkwan, I'd rather live in a world with you in it. Don’t think otherwise.”

Seungkwan stared at you and felt a combination of emotions. He kissed you when he understood what he felt. At first, you thought it’ll be quick like the last time, a peck. But he deepened the kiss, and when his tongue touched yours, you hear him groan. He tugged you closer, afraid you’ll get away. He reassuringly held your hands, squeezing them three times just like the second time. I can get used to this. You thought. You focused on his soft lips, how you’ve always felt content while kissing him.

He pulled away, his chest heaving for breath. “Holy shit,” Seungkwan said. You nodded in agreement, apparently unable to concentrate because of your heart beating so loudly.

“I-, uh, I--”

“I thought we’ve talked this through?-”

He sighed deeply before adding, “I-I got cold. Sorry, noona.”

“You dumb shit, if you were cold, I would have made you hot chocolate. I’m nice sometimes you know.”

“I don't mind,” he smirked, “you're hotter anyway.”

“What the heck is wrong with you? I swear to god, you've been flirting with me since that drunk uno shit.”

“It's a Roman thing to kiss under the mistletoe,” he said, pointing to the mistletoe he was carrying.

You both laughed it off, thinking about how ridiculous it sounded. “Roman tradition my ass.”

You and Seungkwan are both in the hospital on New Year's Eve.

“Ah, what a dumb plan you had there,” you exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.

“Well, I've always wanted to go out of my comfort zone...”

You give him a light smack on the head. “Shut up. Now I'm trapped in a hospital over New Year's because of your dumb plan.”

It's never a good idea to combine Seungkwan with hiking. Sure, he's fit, but when was the last time he went hiking?

“Then have Seokmin hyung or Soonyoung hyung accompany me.”

“They're still at Seokmin's.” You and Seungkwan both arrived at your dorms earlier than anticipated. After all, you didn't want to overstay your welcome; it was your first time. You were worried that Seokmin's mother would think you were too at ease in their home.

“Well, if you want to go home, you can.”

“Who will look after you if I go home?”

For a moment, Seungkwan didn't dare add a sarcastic comment on that question. So, instead, “Come on y/n, don't be so mad...”

“Where are your manners, I'm your noona?”

“three kisses in and I still can't call you by your name?”

You blushed when you remembered all of the times Boo SeungKwan kissed you and how sweet his soft lips were.

“Noona is blushing, wah.”

“I hope your ankle doesn’t heal you little shit.”

Raising his eyebrows at you. "You don't mean that. You love me."

"Of course I do. I love all three of you."

He reached for your hand. "I bet you love me more." There it was again, Seungkwan surprising you with his sudden seriousness. He was staring straight into your eyes, waiting for your response. Luckily, a nurse came in to check his vitals.

A few minutes after the nurse came out, both of you were ignoring each other due to that sudden tension. To ease the situation, both of you just watched television until you fell asleep.

"Y/n wake up." Nudging you by your shoulders. "We're nearing the countdown. Cmon," and urged you to stand by the window, waiting for the fireworks.

Seungkwan then leaned in to put an earphone in, with a song already playing in the background. You realized it was a song written by Soonyoung's classmate, Woozi, for a songwriting class. You were bopping your head to the music when the ten-second countdown started.

You and Seungkwan alternately sang along.

"I promise myself, while drinking a glass of water in the morning, to tell you"

새벽에 물을 마시면서 혼자 다짐해 나는 너에게

"Beautiful words like the lines in a movie"

영화처럼 달콤하고 예쁜 그 말

"The words I've prepared overnight for days"

몇 날 며칠 밤새 연습했던 그 말

"I want to say them to you tomorrow with clenched fists"

내일은 꼭 두 주��을 꽉 쥐고 말해주고 싶어

Seungkwan turned to face you just in time for the next line.

"You are pretty."

너 예쁘다

As soon as the clock struck twelve and the fireworks went off, Seungkwan kissed you. What astonished you was how you knew he was about to kiss you and how you returned the kiss with fervor as he deepened it. You can't help but compare this man to fireworks; how dark it was before him, and how awestruck you were when he came into your life.

Seungkwan was the first to back away, touching his forehead to yours and giggling like a joyful little kid. “Did you know that it’s a Roman tradition to kiss on the first minute of the new year?”

“Blaming the Romans again, I see?” playfully raising your eyebrows at him.

He laughed at that, giving you no excuse. "I love you, Y/n."

You grinned as you silently thank the Romans for their weird traditions.

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #svt #svt seungkwan #boo seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x you #seungkwan scenarios

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Love On-Set (Pt. 05 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

All The Right Signs

“Gaten, get it together! It's fake raining!” Finn yells as Gaten messes up the scene for the fourth time. Everyone just laughs as you brace yourself.

“Five minutes everyone!” James shouts and you follow the kids as they run out of the rain as the water is turned off.

Today, you're glad the scene is outside, with all the main actors. It's always fun, and you need to keep your mind away from what will happen tomorrow. You thought the kissing scene was too far away, but now it's just around the corner. And you didn't do as James said. Every time Dacre showed up to work on that, you'd just sit, watch something and talk. And you always have fun together. The director never asked about the video though, so you just decided to let it go.

But now, it's tomorrow. And you're trying hard not to think about it until it's inevitable.

“Are you cold?” Dacre comes to stand before you, messing up your train of thought.

“A little, yeah.” You answer, removing some hair from your face.

“Well...” He steps closer, his hands rubbing your arms. You immediately feel warmer, but you don't think it's because of the gesture. “If Gaten manages to say his line without bursting into laughter we'll get out of the cold very soon.”

You can't help but blush, staring into his blue eyes. “He is–”

A camera flashing gets your attention, and both you and Dacre look at the source. Millie tries to hide her phone as if the bright light didn't startle you.

“I can't wait for tomorrow.” Natalia comments.

Unfortunately, they will have to be here, because the kissing scene isn't the only one scheduled. You still don't know if it's good or bad. Probably bad.

“Alright, let's get it done.” As James speaks, the water is turned back on and it starts raining again.

“Let's go.” You say in a low voice, accompanying Dacre back to your positions.

It takes another four attempts for Gaten to finally say his line without messing up, and the rest of you are free to finish the take. Afterward, before you can run to your dressing room to shower and change out of the soaking clothes, the guys decide to make some silly pictures with everyone soaking wet. In the middle of the commotion to strike a pose, Dacre finds he's way to stand next to you, an arm either on your shoulders or around your waist. You try not to give it much thought, hoping Millie's phone camera won't get your blushing cheeks.

When it's all done, you take a warm shower before heading to the van and an hour later you're at your hotel room. But the day isn't over yet. The guys are coming here to finally start working on the Battle of Starcourt scenes. But you still have some time before they show up, so you make yourself comfortable on the couch, a blanket around your shoulders as you watch Jaws since you're in the mood for a classic movie.

A knock on the door startles you a little, and you notice you were too immersed in the movie. Dragging the blanket with you, you walk over there after checking your phone. There's still an hour until they come and you didn't order anything. But you unlock it and swing it open, biting your lip when you see Dacre. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He furrows his eyebrows when he looks down at you. “I absolutely love your dress.”

“Really? It's the last fashion in my living room fashion week.” Giggling, you step aside, closing the door shut when Dacre comes in. “You're early. Nobody got here yet.“

“Yeah, I know.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shrug your shoulders. It's not like you would send him away. “I'm watching Jaws. So we can either watch it or put on something else.” Making your way back to the couch, you watch as he does the same, settling down beside you. “You want the blanket?” You decide to ask, just to be polite.

“Sure.”

That you weren't expecting. It's not cold. Well, not that cold. You just took the blanket to feel more comfortable since you're wearing shorts and a light blouse. “Ok.“ You mumble as you take the blanket from around your shoulders, fixing it on both you and Dacre.

Then you focus on the movie. Or you try to focus the best you can. Why is Dacre here? Millie's voice comes back to your head, her lastest advise making you bounce your leg nervously. She told you Dacre is giving all the signs he's into you. And you should do the same, or else he'll get the idea you're not interested and step back. Natalia assured it'll happen because Dacre is a gentleman, always have been, and he won't keep pushing you into something you don't want.

Taking a deep breath, you think about your options. You feel how Dacre's arm is touching yours, and you have an idea. Feeling the butterflies in your stomach going insane, you lean closer to Dacre. “Can I?” You ask, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Sure.” He answers, and after a few seconds of the most uncomfortable silence you've even been through, Dacre moves, putting his arm around your shoulders, what makes you snuggle closer to him, your head resting partly on his chest and neck. Your whole body is frozen for a moment, wondering what this is. Then he moves again, his arm sliding down to embrace your waist, and you decide to just end the small distance that was between your bodies, completely leaning on him. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” You nod, eyes tightly shut as your cheeks start burning. “The shark is attacking.” Trying to ease the tension, you gesture at the TV.

“It is,” Dacre mumbles, and you feel his chest vibrating as he speaks.

As the minutes pass by, you feel more comfortable. And it feels good to finally allow yourself to do this. It's something so simple, so silly, but still, it feels right. You've been dying to do this and you didn't even know.

Unfortunately, the hour passes by, the knocks and the chattering announcing that your time alone with Dacre is over. Sighing, you leave the blanket behind and go open the door, hoping nobody will notice that Dacre was here already.

•

“Ok, ok. Positions...” Joe says after the coffee table and couch were pushed aside, leaving a free space in the middle of the room. You stand beside Millie, script in hand as you wait to find out what scene they'll start with. “You there. You can be... There.”

“Why do I have the feeling we interrupted something,” Natalia whispers as she walks by, tilting her head at Dacre, who's discussing something in the script with Sadie.

“Dacre just came to...” To do what? Did he even come to do something specifically? “He came a little earlier.”

“I didn't know you could get this red,” Millie exclaims, staring at you. “Oh, my God, I'm so happy I'll get to see the kissing scene.”

The kissing scene. Nobody in the freaking universe will let you forget it. As if you needed them to remind you that Dacre's lips will be on yours by tomorrow night. “I want to get it done on one take, so don't screw it.”

“You should ask us to ruin it as much as we can so you'll get to kiss him more times.” Natalia sing songs and you Millie laughs, nodding.

“It won't be Dacre and I. It'll be Billy and Amy. It's a scene, it's our job.” You don't know what gets to you, the words just roll out. And they're all true. It won't be a real kiss. It's not like you don't want to do it. You want to kiss Dacre, and this is making you nervous, but it just won't be real. “Let's just focus here, ok?”

The next hours are tiring. They were right to do this because the Battle of Starcourt will be chaos, and it'll be a lot better if you kinda know the dynamics before having to actually shoot it. But you're distracted, forgetting your lines so many times you have to just keep the scrip in hand and read it. You're thankful for the kids being so crazy because they make you laugh and forget your anxiety for a while.

It's past midnight then they leave, and as you're saying your goodbyes at the door, you notice Dacre falling behind. When he's by the door, the others are already disappearing down the hall.

“Guess I'll see you tomorrow.” You mutter, looking down at your feet. If it wasn't for a meeting James called with the whole cast in the morning, you'd have the whole day to deal with before going to the set. It's better this way though, you think.

“Yeah. I'd be down for another gym date but I have this job that won't let me.”

Giggling, you bite your lip. “You think it'll be about changes in the script?”

“I'm sure it will,” Dacre mumbles, giving a look at the hall. When you follow his gaze, you see three blurs in the shape of heads, vanishing into the corner. “We're being watched.” He lowers his voice as if you were in great danger.

“Hope it's not the Demogorgon. I'd hate to save your ass. Again.” When you look back at him, you find his blue eyes already set on you. It makes you sigh, wondering why your legs won't work, and make you step back, returning to the normal distance you should put between you and someone else. “I'll get some sleep... Rough day tomorrow.”

“I agree.” Another glance at the hall, but you don't have time to check if anyone's there this time. Dacre leans closer and places a kiss on your cheek, as he usually does. Only this time is different. It lingers, for far too long, and at the same time, it ends too soon. And you're sure you felt the corner of his lips on yours. “Good night, (Y/N).”

“Good night.” Whispering, you stand by the door as he makes his way to the elevators, giving one last look back before disappearing in the corner.

• • •

Your hands are shaking a little, and you blame it on the cold wind. But the wind isn't that cold. Is it?

You're already in your position, at Hawkins Community Pool's parking lot, next to this random car and your stylist is finishing with your hair and giving the final touches on your make-up. No lipstick. You can't imagine why.

On your left, you see many pairs of eyes set on you. After this scene, James wants to shot the sequence, when the kids find a Demodog in the pool, so everyone is here. But you can't think about that now, you have to focus. Amy needs to come to life today, and you need to act like a professional. You knew acting in Stranger Things would be huge, and difficult, but you'd never guess it would be this hard.

You take the deepest breath you can when you see Dacre coming your way. Mullets were an atrocity to humankind, you think, but damn, he did make it look good. How is it even possible? He shouldn't be allowed to do that.

“Hey. You–”

“Everyone ready?” James' thunder voice cuts him off, and you have no idea if that's good or bad. No time to figure out. “Clean the set, let's do this. Dacre, (Y/N), are you ready?”

Nodding, you force your mind to remember the lines. You're Amy now... Which sucks because by now, Amy is already in love with Billy. Nothing will help you, you just need to get it done, give the audience the show they want.

“Great. Alright then... Ready and... Action!”

You're not ready for that, but you move anyways.

“I can't believe you took almost an hour to get here, Hargrove!” Amy yells, walking fast to end the small distance between her and Billy. “There's a freaking Demodog in the pool!”

“It's dead. So why the hurry?” Dacre keeps the smug smirk, the one that makes you want to slap Billy. Just a little bit. “Chill.”

“Don't tell me to chill. Can't you miss one single date? Not even when there's an interdimensional monster involved?” You punch Dacre hard on the chest, well not so hard, but he does give a tiny step back. This is Amy's jealously attack, and you make sure to make her look frustrated because despite the emotions overflowing, she knows she shouldn't be doing this.

“Why the hell you always think I'm with some girl?”

“Because that's where you always are.” Jumping to conclusions. That's the way Amy found to keep her heart away from Billy. Didn't work though. “You know what, it doesn't matter. We have a bigger fish to fry.”

When you turn around to leave, Dacre gets his cue, grabbing your arm and forcing you to stop and stumble back. “The damn thing is dead, it can wait.”

“Let go.” Amy pleads, stepping backwards as Billy comes closer. That's the moment where she gives up trying. This thing with Billy has been going on for a while now, and, as in real life, there's just this point where you stop fighting it. “Seriously, I'm tired of this shit so let's just–”

“I know you're jealous.” He mutters, just when your back hits the car. James loves to have you trapped like that. “Just need to figure out why.”

“I've said it once, and I'll say it again.” It's hard to follow the script, it's hard to keep breathing normally. It's so damn hard to keep eye contact with Dacre right now. “I won't be one of your flings so back the hell down.”

It comes out too low, and you wait for James to stop the scene. And you want him too. You can't do this. You can't stop looking at Dacre's lips, you can't control the butterflies in your stomach. This is just a goddman scene, why can't you get it together?

“Who said I want you to be a fling?”

That's it. It's happening. Dacre leans closer, so close that you have no choice but to close your eyes. He's saying something else, but you don't hear it. Your hands find their way to his chest, grabbing his jacket as if to steady yourself, to get a grip of reality. When his lips brush on yours, Amy is gone and you break character, taking a deep breath before pulling him closer, eager to end the small distance and finally–.

A loud noise, an explosion, makes both of you jump. One of the cameras near you come crashing down and if it wasn't for Dacre pulling you away, it would hit you. The whole thing moves like a domino effect, knocking a few more cameras with it. You barely hear James's voice, stepping further back, making sure you're far enough. The rest of the cast abruptly stand up from their chairs, worried.

“Everyone back off!” James shouts.

“Are you ok?” Dacre asks and you simply nod, a hand on your heart.

James dismisses everyone while he and his assistants check what happened. You silently walk beside Dacre until you reach the rest of the crew, looking down and trying not to think about the kiss. Or the almost kiss.

“What the hell happened?” Joe asks, and everyone starts talking at the same time.

There isn't much to talk about. Four of the five cameras are wrecked, and the director is pissed. But still, you're too far away, your mind stuck in the phantom of the kiss you craved for so desperately. Dacre stands by your side, but you can't look at him right now. So you engage in the conversation, ignoring Millie's and Natalia's stares, hoping nobody will notice your blushing cheeks.

An hour later, the big news arrive. Well, they're big news fort he cast, not for James. After analyzing the damage, James will have to suspend the shooting for five days. Which means you'll have five days off. Everyone starts making plans, and the ride back to the hotel is filled with happy chattering about who will go where. But you already know what you'll do. You'll fly home and use these days to rest. And think.

“Hey.” Dacre gets your attention, following out of the van when you reach the hotel. “What are your plans?”

“Uhm... I'm flying home.” Shrugging your shoulders, you keep his pace through the main hall.

“Oh, you live in LA, right?” Giving him a quick glance, you nod. “I'm living there too, I don't know if I told you.”

This lights up a spark in your heart, and suddenly, you're not so excited to stay away anymore. “No, you haven't.”

“We can book our flights together... If that's ok.”

His hesitation gets you by surprise, but then you notice how distant you've been acting since the kiss. Damn, he might be thinking you didn't like it or something. That he made you uncomfortable. That's exactly what you don't want him to think. “It is. When do you wanna leave?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“That's fine by me.” You finally decide to look at him, and you immediately regret avoiding his eyes. Being nervous is... Normal. Maybe. But his eyes give you the reassurance you need. “I'll stop by your room in an hour so we can buy the tickets.”

“I'll be waiting.” His lips break into a smile, and you can't help but bite your lip and smile too.

“I'll be there.” You say as the doors open on his floor. Dacre mutters a goodbye, and right before the door closes again, you see when he winks at you.

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelanin @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum

#dacre montgomery imagine #imagine dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery fanfiction #dacre montgomery #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine

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imperial-martian · 4 years

Text

Bruised & Broken ][ Armitage Hux x Reader ][ Part Four

Author’s Note: I’m not sure how happy I am with this chapter, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. It’s shorter then what the other chapters usually are. Most chapters are over 3,000+ words and this one is just under 2,500. I hope you like this, and I’m excited to work on the next chapter- which I think will mainly be viewed from Hux’s perspective! Enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of scars, thoughts of physical violence, pretty much just angst

PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE, PART FOUR

Tags: @songforhema, @edmunds-torch, @christmasallyearsthings, @indelwen-of-mirkwood, @agirlinherhead, @runhbo, @redsacrament, @lafy-taffy, @khaleesi-of-assassins, @dath23321, @fangirl570, @ahsfan23, @ah-callie, @aestheticcomatose, @starrmoondaisy, @thekeywordisbalance, @the-avid-book-reader, @starxdame, @thuutthuutbilly, @hoki-lokison, @stareyedplanet, @steve-thotgers, @llama259, @averillian, @songofcosplay

Although your eyes were red with tears and your face flushed with anger, the first thought in your mind was to alert everyone about what was to come. The minute somebody came into view, you spoke, not bothering to properly acknowledge them in any way. "Where is the General?" Were the first words to leave your lips the minute you came across the guards which were stood feet away from the interrogation center.

Both of their heads turned to you before they shared a quick glance with a furrowed brow. "She's by the medbay with Dameron," one of them replied, and without skipping a beat you were marching your way towards the directed area.

Finn had spotted you walking urgently and turned to Rey, nudging her shoulder before nodding in your direction. "Should we go see what's so urgent?" he asked the uprising Jedi.

She shook her head. "We can go confront her afterward, I can sense how tense she is. Something is wrong and we have no right to interfere between her and General Organa," she replied. "They will inform us in their own time."

Finn did nothing but nod in acceptance. "Let's go put the bastard back in his cell," he said the minute you had reached Poe and the General, walking towards the interrogation center while gritting his teeth. He was ready to land a well-deserved punch to the ginger's gut if he had to.

While Finn and Rey dealt with Hux you had reached the medbay and turned down Poe's invitation to small talk with a quick hand, calling on the General immediately. "General Organa."

The woman in question turned her head towards you, spotting the urgency in your face and facing you. She was quick to grab your arms and urge you away from everybody else to speak in private. "What have you gathered, dear? What has he told you?" she inquired.

"They've planned an attack," you informed, "he's refused to tell me anything else, and I fear I've angered him now," you sighed, pausing for just a moment, "I think it's best to prepare for a transfer soon. We can't risk what they have planned. The attack was already established before we captured General Hux, maker only knows what they are preparing for now that they strive to get him back."

General Organa was quick to take charge, walking back to the medbay and informing the nurse in charge of tending Poe to speed it up and send him to the control center within ten minutes. "Follow me Y/N, we need to gather the others. We're to have a meeting and discuss what actions should and need to be taken to ensure the safety of us all. We can't lose again, not after Hosnian Prime." Determination filled her voice, and the demeanor of a powerful General seemed to flow through her as she sprung into action, quickly walking in the direction of where Rey and Finn had begun walking after leaving Hux in his cell.

The General's strifes were long and quick, causing you to jog a bit every time she got too far from you until finally, she stopped. "Finn, Rey, follow me," she ordered, walking just as quickly towards the control center.

The other two had matched your stride and stood beside you, there eyes looking at you for questions. You only shook your head and said, "you'll find out in a minute," to which they reluctantly nodded, an eery feeling settling in the pits of their stomachs.

When Poe has arrived the meeting seemed to kick into gear in seconds. "We can't waste any time," she started, "Y/N informed me that they are planning to attack at any moment. We give everyone three days to pack everything aboard the ships before we head to D'Qar and settle there," she explained, looking at everyone.

Poe was the first to step forward and speak. "Three days won't give people enough time to gather everything. They'll be so panicked, and just after we settled into a home now too," he argued.

General Organa sighed, "we don't have much of a choice Dameron. We can't risk losing more than we already did. It'll cost too many casualties!" her voice was raised in frustration. "I refuse to let them win. We leave in three days by night, I'll tell everyone to pack light. We leave no traces of where we're going. If we leave in time, they'll have no clue if I've planned this correctly. We'll have to shut down all navigations and raise all shields to ensure they don't track us," she explained, her fist clenched white with determination.

Finn looked at General Organa. "What will be of Hux? What do we do with him?" he asked.

The General looked at Finn first before shifting to you. "Y/N, he seems to only talk to you. No matter how much you angered him back there, gain his trust in three days and gather whatever information you can from him. If he's indifferent by the time we leave we'll have to kill him."

The words, "Kill him," caused your breath to catch in your throat and fear to claw at you. Two parts within you seemed to conflict with itself. One was screaming at you to help and save him, telling you that he didn't deserve to die. The other was telling you that he did, that after all he's done killing him would be mercy over torture. One side was emotion and feeling, and the other was reason.

"Yes General, I'll see what I can gather," you nodded, meeting her eyes.

"Good, Finn and Poe start gathering whatever you can and place them in the Falcon. Rey, come with me, we'll be needing to make an announcement to everyone. Y/N, go to Hux and do whatever you can. Do something to gain us leverage over the First Order," she ordered, and with firm nods from everyone, you all dispersed.

When you arrived by the cells you had a moment of conflict. You debated whether to wait till the morning to see if he would be in a better state then, or go see him now and see what you could do. Both were going to end up the same way in your mind, but one seemed more favorable than the other.

In the end, you decided to wait till the morning and hope to the maker above that you had better luck with him then than you did minutes ago in the interrogation room. With dawn closing in you knew Hux would need to be checked for infections once again, but you couldn't trust the other nurses. However, you wouldn't be sure that he wouldn't just strangle you the minute you walked into the cell.

You took a chance and waited the night, walking back to your quarters as everyone gathered around the makeshift stage- what really was just a tree trunk -that General Organa and Rey stood on to make the announcement. With a small yawn and heavy heart, you walked into your quarters, not bothering to change as you fell asleep the minute you landed in bed, all the emotions of the day crashing down on you in that moment.

When you awoke the next morning you were slow to get dressed, a trace of uncertainty from the day before left you with a cold sweat. It was nothing you couldn’t push through to do your job, however, it was enough to keep you cautious. No matter how badly you wished for things to be the same, after last night you knew there was no chance for what little bond you had to remain.

You thought he had been harsh and cold to you before, but you were not prepared for how he acted when you walked into the cell. Had it not been for the dread that seemed to wash over you the minute you walked in, everything would have seemed normal until you turned to look at Hux.

His eyes had always seemed to take your breath away, their bright shade of blues and greens never seized to capture you. Usually, you would see the beauty hidden behind his eyes, now you saw the brightest fires of fury and hatred. It left you stock still and fearful.

If you didn’t think General Hux was frightening before, you did at that moment. He looked ruthless, as though if he could he would rip you apart without much struggle. He even looked as though he was considering it.

It caused you to feel nothing short of hesitation as you stepped deeper into the tiger's den.

With a confidant- or what you wished was -voice, you asked, “has the infection worsened?” Kneeling on the dirt, you opened the kit, getting nothing more than a bandage and disinfectant wipe. A majority of his wounds were healed at that point and it was best to leave the more valuable equipment to more valuable patients- or in other words, fellow Rebels.

“It hasn’t,” he replied, short and to the point, nothing for him to waste his breath on. “But please, get on with it. I’d rather not have my time wasted,” he said, and you could swear you heard an underlying, ‘with the likes of you.’

You wouldn’t admit it- not even to yourself -but it stung a little. It would make your task a whole lot harder now that you knew he truly wanted nothing to do with you.

“Armitage,” you tested, earning a sharp, deadly glare from him. You sighed gently. “Why don’t you join us?” you paused to gauge out his reaction, and when he gave none you continued. “Please, Armitage, do you realize how powerful you could be on our side?”

He chuckled. “Do you think I’m not powerful within the First Order? I’m feared,” he growled out, getting close to you just to prove his point. You sunk under his gaze, giving in for just a moment. “I’m a General Y/N, do you not realize just how powerful I am? I gave the order for an entire system to be destroyed. People cower just hearing my name.” He hung over you as you stood, finished with accessing him.

“If people cower hearing your name, why haven’t they?” you asked, nodding to the guards behind you. You didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Don’t be so cocky Hux, it’ll be your downfall. You’re not as powerful as you make yourself put to be. Kylo Ren has proved that,” you stated, glancing at the large scar already forming on his skin.

He growled, and he swore he would have you pinned against the wall if he knew he wouldn’t have been shot dead right then in there. “You say that as though you know what authority I have. You have no idea,” he spat, his anger reaching its surface quickly. His patience was thinning.

“I can do nothing but convince you to join us, Hux,” you shrugged as you backed away. “Just know that you’ll be killed if you don’t end up cooperating.” With that, you left his cell.

You were beyond frustrated with Armitage now. He was full of himself, even as a prisoner, and you weren’t sure you could change that. You knew that convincing Armitage would be a lot harder then you thought, and you weren’t sure you could do it by yourself.

With that thought in mind, you made your way to the cantina. Spotting just who you were looking for- and you were grateful that Poe was sat beside them -you made your way over and sat across from them.

“Y/N, how’s your business with Hux going along?” Finn asked, looking up from his trey of food. His attention was completely on you the minute his fork his the trey and he leaned forward.

You groaned before answering. “He’s an absolute handful and is actually why I came over. I’m glad Poe is here too, I feel as though you both might have some useful advice,” you started, looking at them with thankful smiles.

“What’s up?” Poe asked, crossing his arms.

“I’m having a hard time trying to convince Hux to accept defeat and join us or at least give us something to work with. How would you guys go through with my task?” you questioned, a look of hopefulness in your eyes.

Poe sighed for a moment. “Truthfully, I wouldn’t bother with a bastard like him,” he said. “He has no worth to us and frankly would be better off dead, but since Leia put you up to a task that she expects to be at least partaken in, then I guess I’d just have to give him the facts. He’s going to end up dead if he does not listen, whether he wants to or not, he’d have no choice.”

You nodded. “I told him that, but he’s so full of himself,” you admitted. “I don’t want him to die,” you mumbled. “I hate seeing people die, it’s why I became a nurse, to save people, but I don’t know how I can convince a man like Hux. He seems to headstrong in doing things his way.”

Finn spoke up before Poe could, “if you really want to convince Hux to join us if you really think he could be an asset, convince him that his life here could be so much better then his life in the First Order. Convince him so well that he really has no other choice.”

Poe agreed, “if you did that, and gave him no doubt that the First Order could be better then what he could get here, then I can see him joining us. I see no other way then that.”

You smiled at them both, a plan already forming in your mind. “Thank you guys, you might have just saved me a whole lot of late-night struggles,” you said before darting off to your quarters.

You had one chance at this, and it was a risk you’d have to take. It would end up coming down to the line, but if you were able to go off his previous emotions, and even build them up, then perhaps you’d be able to win him over. If not to the Resistance, then at least to you. It as nothing more then wishful thinking, but if that was what you had to go off of, it was good enough.

It only helped that when you’d see him next a little companion would seem to have attached to Armitage, no matter the displeasure of anybody on the site. It would be a little ginger tabby cat that would end up saving you a whole lot of time with this plan.

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dyker-farmer · 4 years

Text

Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do.

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably.

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh.

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning.

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

#alcohol cw #emetophobia cw #self hatred cw #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew valley #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer #1!Dow Farm #Farmer Uidelsib #☆my art☆#♧Shane #*watch me push my autistic headcanons onto chicken boi*#*just you wait for the trans and hispanic ones*#*i'm about to destroy this man whole career of self depreciation*#*highly functionning dumbass energy vs immovable but movable force of sadness*#food cw #*fuck tumblr for not letting me put a read more on mobile rip ur dash y'all*#☆writing☆

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