#pink houses pink houses aaaaaa

[actuallyitsstar]

NINE PEOPLE I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

OMG TYSM FOR TAGGING ME @liass-21 !!!!! i am so sorry i drafted this tag and i thought i queue'd it and i didnt so 😭😭😭 its only like a month late. its fine everythings fine. aaaaaa 😭

LAST SONG? - "photograph" by the midnight! it is on my writing-for-top-gun playlist bc it has huge maverick vibes lol.

FAVORITE COLOR? - pink!!!! also lighter purples and blues and most pastel shades <3 and black

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - a streamer i have never watched before playing the remaster of of tomb raider i-iii bc i am excited about the remaster!! and those games are my childhood <3 not to be a million years old or anything sakfhfjfhg

LAST MOVIE? - unfortunately it was 'oz the great and powerful' 😭 if any of y'all enjoyed that movie i respect it, but i had to see it on tv at a friend's house and we were having a great time laughing at the very unexpected writing and acting choices being made lol

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - aaaaaaaa i guess savory ?????? but sweet has a special place in my heart ajdhfjfhfjg

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - committed long term relationship to ~my person~ <3<3

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - well this is gonna be obvious but top gun primarily !!!! additionally, dan and phil !! mission impossible !!! fall out boy!! and even if the current obsession level is not as high as other things, i am always at least partially obsessed with a hundred other things and people that i am probably posting about at the same time lol

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - “oz the great and powerful reviews” bc i wanted to make sure that im not crazy and that other ppl also felt that movie was an insane fever dream (apparently due to the 44% on metacritic i guess they did lol)😭

tagging: aaaaaa @brambleberrycottage @daffodilstark @tellhound @torchflies @melancholydandelion @goosefilms @driftershunt @downthegenderriver @callsignstingray

#tag games #mine #!!!!! I AM SO SORRY AGAIN. I AM DUMB. I DONT KNOW WHY I DIDNT QUEUE THIS BEFORE. #pls enjoy my month late tag response it was not worth the wait akdfhfjfhfjfhgjgh #star.txt

[here2bbtstrash]

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’. 

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. 

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space. 

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back. 

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume. 

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.” 

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit. 

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #a hyung holiday

[shankschewtoy]

Hi! Requesting for the holiday event ; a nami, rosinante, and ace headcanons for drabble 5—the first snow pls? x Gn! Reader <3

Its readers first time or in a long time seeing snow, and they just have a goofy time playing w it!!!

Take ur time! Feel free to ignore/delete! 💋

a/n - aaaaaa I’ve been waiting for this prompt 😭 tysm for requesting anon! 💜💜

drabbles prompt 5

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, fluff

You awoke to a chilly breeze. You had dozed off on the couch, only to wake up to something you’d been looking forward to outside the window. It was snowing! It’s been so long since you’ve seen the powdery snow covering the grass outside your house. “You awake sweetie? I didn’t want to wake you.” Nami said with a smile right beside you. She was bundled up in a sweatshirt, wearing a beanie as well. You immediately got up, staring out the window with an excited smile. “Nami look! It’s snowing! C’mon let’s go outside!” You shouted, grabbing her hand and rushing out the door. “Wait you don’t even have a jacket-!” She protested before you immediately face planted into the powdery snow. The chill almost burned across your cheeks, the icy cold of the air refreshing. Nami shook her head, trying to brush off the snow that had piled onto her hair. “Dummy! You’re gonna get sick now!” She shouted, bonking your head harshly with her fist. You giggled, jumping out of the snow with a grin. You reminded her so much of your close friend Luffy right now, she’s never seen you this excited about weather before.

You fell backwards, the snow cushioning your fall. The cold on your back felt so nice compared to the hot weather you’d experienced a couple weeks ago. You started making snow angels, your face saying nothing but content expressions. Nami couldn’t help but sigh and smile, who cares if you caught a cold? All that matters is that you’re happy. The snowflakes kept falling onto the tip of your nose, melting as soon as they came in contact with your skin. Your cheeks were pink from the cold breeze, your hair now completely drenched with melted snow. Your clothes weren’t waterproof obviously, so you were absolutely soaked. Nami gave you her jacket, picking up a pile of snow and pouring it onto your head. “That’s what you get for not wearing a jacket y/n.” She said with a laugh, grabbing more snow to throw at you. Was that a challenge to a snowball fight? To you, yes it was. You immediately threw snow at her, making her start throwing piles at you as well. You tried not to aim towards her face because she’d never forgive you for that. Nami hit you every single time without fail, and you missed almost every time. At the end, you two made snow angels together, staring up at the clouds, the snow falling against your eyelashes. “Nami, I love the snow.”

You both were sitting by the tv, curled up and cuddling with each other. A blanket wrapped around the two of you, his warm body keeping you nice and toasty. You loved the cold weather, it was definitely your favorite season. But most of all, you wanted to see what the snow looked like. You had never lived in a place that got snow during the winter, this was the first year, and you got to spend it with Ace. He had dozed off on top of you, hugging your waist as his head leaned on your soft chest. You were rubbing the back of his head while he snored softly. Every now and then, you looked outside the window to see if it had started to snow yet. You saw a little bit of a twinkle outside, making you try to strain your eyes to look closer. You saw more of the twinkling in the air outside, almost like mini stars during the day. But then you realized, it was snow! It had finally started! You started tapping your boyfriend to wake up, “Ace, it’s snowing now!” You said excitedly, nudging him and squishing his cheeks together with your hands. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, looking up at you with drowsy eyes. “What??? Sabo’s here?..” He grumbled, still half-asleep. You sighed, pinching his cheeks to wake him up, making him grunt in pain. “Not Sabo! The snow- look!” You said, pointing outside the window as he slowly got up. “Ohh- that makes more sense.” He replied with a laugh as you grabbed his wrist, running outside with him. You were indescribably happy, your eyes sparkling with excitement at the twinkling snowflakes floating through the air. Your happiness made him so stupidly happy, seeing you so excited over something he’s seen before was so adorable. He picked up a handful of snow and formed it into a ball, throwing it at the back of your head with a smirk. You looked at him with an excited and determined smile, doing the same thing as him, taking a handful of the cold snow into your hands. It almost burned from how icy it was to hold. You threw it at him, hitting his face as you laughed.

You both shared laughter as packs of snow were exchanged. When it went down the back of your shirt, it was horribly uncomfortable- and your expression made Ace start crying from laughter. His head was covered in snow later >:) You both made snowmen as well, finding anything that could be used as ornaments for it. Ace found twigs for the arms, you used pebbles for the buttons and eyes, and you found a tiny little pinecone for the nose. You grabbed your scarf and put the final touch on your snowman with a proud smile on your face. Ace kissed your cheek as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gazing at the snowman with you. “So do you like the snow?” He asked with a grin, leaning his chin against the top of your head. “Was that even a question?”

You were making some hot cocoa for the two of you. Putting sprinkles of mini marshmallows on top as well as a swirl of whipped cream. Rosinante came up from behind and gave you a hug, kissing the top of your head softly. “Here Rosi, be careful- it’s hot.” You warned with a smile, handing him the cup. You never fail to make his heart melt whenever you do something sweet like this. But the words be careful didn’t register- and he took a sip of the drink, almost instantaneously burning his mouth. You already knew that was going to happen so you put a towel against his mouth to help him clean up. “I said be careful-“ You said with a sigh, patting the top of his head. You noticed the snow covered ground outside from the window, something you haven’t seen in a long time. “Hey- let’s go see the snow!” You said excitedly, practically jumping up and down in front of him. How could he ever say no to your smile? (He’s never said no) He nodded and followed you outside, setting foot into the crunchy snow. You had a look full of so much happiness and excitement on your face that it almost gave the man a heart attack.

You went beside the trees to run around, bouncing through the fresh snowfall. Rosinante tried to follow you, but ended up hitting his forehead on a branch, falling down, the snow that caught onto the leaves falling onto his head, completely covering his face. You ran over to him with a laugh, brushing off all the snow as he rubbed his bruised head. His face was like a little child who had scraped his knee, full of helplessness and pain. “Does it hurt?” You asked, taking a look at his forehead. You kissed his head softly with a smile, “All better?” You asked kindly. What would this baby of a man do without you?.. “Thank you love.” He said, standing up and continuing to walk around with you, giving you his coat so you wouldn’t get cold. The snow gave you a whole new feeling, something that you’ve never really felt before. You didn’t know a season, much less winter could make you feel so happy. Your pinkies were intertwined, nothing could make rosinante happier than this. Even peaceful silence could make him the happiest man on earth, as long as he was with you.

a/n - these were cute 😭💜

#one piece #one piece x reader #nami x reader #nami x y/n #nami x you #nami one piece #rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante #corazon x reader #corazon one piece #rosinante x y/n #portgas d. ace #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace one piece

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

newsies ghost/haunted house au?

Note: aaaaaa this was so much fun to write!!!!! Hope you enjoy this, and thank you for your patience in waiting for me to get it done!

(TW for mentions of murder and ghosts)

“Um, Jack? I'm not so sure about this…”

Davey’s worried voice rang out in the darkness behind Jack as the latter worked to unscrew the boards on the window, and Jack rolled his eyes at the waver in his boyfriend’s tone. “Aw, c’mon, Dave,” he complained, turning to frown at Davey. “You ain’t chickening out now, are you?”

 “No, I’m not.” Davey’s face was barely visible in the night, but Jack could clearly see the glare that he was sending his way. Jack returned to his work, wedging a screwdriver behind the board and popping it loose. Davey jumped and grimaced at the loud noise it made hitting the ground, sure that someone else had heard the ruckus, but Jack seemed unbothered. He left the rotting board where it fell, grinning in triumph as the others easily came away and he could hoist open the window. He ignored Davey’s final noise of protest as he waved behind him, his voice shaky with excitement.

“Then let’s go in.” Jack stepped through the opening in the window and let out a small gasp of astonishment as he took in the sight of the building. Taking a deep breath, Davey swallowed his nerves before following him in, glancing about at the shadows that seemed to stem from the walls, shrouding both the boys in nearly absolute darkness.

Jack let out a low whistle at the sight of the dilapidated room they were in- from the looks of it, an old bedroom, with the stench of trash and rotting wood permeating the air. Faded pink wallpaper peeled off the walls and onto the ground, barely covering discarded toys and messy drawings. The remnants of what the room used to be felt like a ghost in itself, and a shiver went up Davey’s spine.

He stepped over what seemed to be an old doll as Jack pulled a small device out of his pocket, setting it on the ground and angling it towards the corner farthest from them.

“I’ve heard stories about this house,” Davey said, his voice echoing. Jack nodded absently, focused on pressing various buttons on the small, cell phone-like machine he possessed.

According to the ghost-hunting website Davey had visited, a family of four had been murdered here nearly twenty years ago, killed in a house robbery gone wrong by a frantic criminal afraid of being caught. The house was left abandoned after that, and the ghosts of the murdered family were said to haunt its rooms, unable to move on from the unfair circumstances in which they were killed.

The story intrigued Jack to no end, and he’d asked Davey to come with him to investigate, citing Davey’s newfound knowledge of the case as something imperative to his mission. Reluctant, but knowing that Jack had longed so badly to go, Davey had agreed- a decision that he was now regretting with all his might.

“Turn on your flashlight, Dave,” Jack instructed, and the click of the light turning on soon followed, the room illuminated in a sharp white glow. Jack continued working, his brow furrowed in concentration as he fiddled with the device, working until a small beep sounded and he sat back with a smile.

“We’ve got a signal,” he announced, excited. Davey sat down next to him on the ground, grinning back, happy to see his boyfriend so invested in this excursion.

“So… now we just wait?”

“We do.” Jack took the light from Davey and shined it around the room, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend as he did so. “If there’s anyone here, that little thing’s gonna go off, and we can try to talk to ‘em, maybe figure out-“

Click. Davey jumped and Jack stopped talking as the flashlight went out, plunging the room into absolute darkness. Davey’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest, and his voice was shaky as he whispered, “What just happened?”

“It’s probably the batteries.” Jack seemed unsure, but he flipped open the battery compartment on the flashlight, squinting to try and see what was wrong. “Don’t worry, Dave, there ain’t nothin’ wrong.”

Don’t be so sure about that, Davey thought to himself, his mouth suddenly dry. What the hell is going on?

As Jack worked to turn the flashlight back on, Davey picked up the sensor in front of them, using the dim light to give Jack an idea of what he was looking at. The sensor itself had text scrolling across the screen, all-capital letters flashing urgently in a dangerous red.

Spirit detected. Spirit detected. Spirit detected.

“What the fuck?” Davey whispered, his fear getting the better of him. “Jack, it says there’s something here.”

Jack took the sensor from him, his eyes darting around frantically. “Let’s just go,” he decided, clutching the flashlight and sensor to his chest. “It sure doesn’t want us breaking into its house, whatever it is.”

That sounded good enough for Davey. As Jack helped him to his feet and led him through the darkness, Davey took one last look behind him, at the little girl’s bedroom they’d set up in, and another shiver went up his spine. Maybe they don’t want any more intruders, he thought to himself, and a wave of sadness came over him as the two stepped out onto the ground and began to walk away.

“Sorry for the visit,” he whispered into the empty air. “Rest in peace.”

He really needed to stop going along with Jack’s ideas.

#newsies #newsies musical #fanfiction #davey jacobs #david jacobs #jack kelly #ghost au #haunted house au #haunted house #ghost hunting #javid #javey newsies #javid newsies #javey #They’re ghost-hunting boyfriends your honor

[tellerluna-stories]

save the first dance for me.

PAIRING: diluc x reader

GENRE: slight angst with a fluffy ending! strangers to something more, perhaps?

TW/CW: mentions of alcohol and drinking. diluc does work in a tavern, after all...

A/N: this is a gift for my beloved sun @x-zho's unbirthday!!! pls check out her blog, you won't regret it <33 HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TEN OUTTA TEN I HOPE U ENJOY THIS DRABBLE

also, this fanfic is inspired by this fanart I saw on tiktok and this song that I simply adore!!!!!! I've always associated this song with diluc and i just HAD to write something for him with this song AAAAAA

Raucous laughter and the clink of glasses ring throughout Angel’s Share, a round of cheers as its customers chugged down another round of alcohol to go with their mirth. It was the sound of a typical evening in Mondstadt, except that tonight was a special occasion held in honour of— you couldn’t remember what exactly.

Not that it would matter, since everyone would be too hungover to remember it in the morning.

The aroma of grape juice lingers on your tongue before melting away, the sour-sweet taste contrasting sharply with the bitterness that filled your mouth— attending events like these was already bad enough, but getting stood up by the people you were supposed to go with was even worse. They’d all begged and pleaded for you to come to this event, only to leave you stranded in an uncomfortably loud room with nobody you knew.

You take another sip of grape juice and grit your teeth, ignoring the twinge of pain that courses up your foot— the consequence that came of you wearing your newly bought shoes to impress a shameless bunch who didn’t even bother to show up.

“This joyous occasion calls for singing and dancing!” A bard declares, his face flushed red from the amount of drinks he’d already downed. It would be a miracle if he even managed to stay standing, let alone sing a song, but nobody paid any heed.

The girls in attendance tittered and hid their smiles behind their hands, batting their eyelashes at the boys who they hoped would ask them for a dance. Everyone knew that occasions like these were where romance and courtship bloomed, and to publicly ask someone for a slow dance was practically to get engaged.

All-in-all, a riveting display of youth, you thought dryly. It must be nice to attend a dance with friends, and to talk to them about the person you had romantic feelings for. Not that you would know about things like that.

“Would you like a refill?”

Some of the girls glance your way, their already rosy cheeks flushing an even warmer shade of pink at the sound of the stranger’s voice. Your gaze swiveled to fix upon the man standing behind the counter— oh.

“Would you like a refill?” He repeated firmly, gesturing to your glass. This man wasn’t the one who had served you your drink when you’d arrived, no— his eyes matched the crimson hair that was swept up into a high ponytail, gleaming in the lamplight like a thousand rubies. A simple bartender’s uniform was all he wore: a trim black waistcoat and gloves to match, worn over an open-collared white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Oh, but…” You peered at your glass, still half-full of grape juice. “I still have some left.”

“Well, just let me know if you want a refill. It’ll be on the house for tonight.”

“Another round, barkeep! Keep the wine flowing till dawn!” A fresh-faced bard cheers from the opposite end of the counter, his braided hair dangerously close to getting sloshed by his half-empty cup, and the bartender rolls his eyes but obliges. You could feel the eyes of those girls boring into you, but you couldn’t exactly blame them, either— this man would not have looked out of place among the gods as their cupbearer.

In the background people begin to clap in time with the music of the bards, a delightfully brisk tempo that had the young folk standing up eagerly as they waited for the dance to begin. Those who did not stand instead chose to stamp their feet or bang their cups against the tabletops, cheering wildly as a young lass took the floor, her skirts swishing playfully as she eyed the crowd for her potential dance partner.

“How come you’re not joining?”

The bartender reappears out of nowhere, nearly causing you to jump out of your skin. “Ah- you startled me!”

“My apologies.”

You sighed once more and let your gaze wander back to the scene; the girl had found a partner, a young boy with a mischievous smile that matched the spark in her eyes. Likewise, the rest of the crowd had followed their example and filtered into pairs, the atmosphere brimming with the anticipation of a glorious dance.

“…I don’t know anybody. All the people I was supposed to go with ended up ditching me.”

“Ah.” His face creases, contorting into the ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ expression that people usually gave you when you told them about incidents like these. “I’m—“

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry to hear that. I’ll only feel worse because some stranger is taking pity on me for having no friends.” You smile ruefully and finish the last of your grape juice, pushing the empty glass across the counter. “I’ll just go out for some air, and maybe I’ll feel a bit better afterwards. Thanks for the drink.”

The expression disappeared as quickly as it came, but you paid it no heed— instead, you headed for the door, seeking it to cool your head in the peaceful quiet of moonlight.

——

The streets of Mondstadt were empty, completely devoid of any life whatsoever; the distinct lack of people was evident, even in the center square. But the lack of people meant that it was quiet, and that sense of solitude was what you needed to clear your head.

Taking a deep breath, you savoured the crisp coolness of the night air, taking this opportunity to reflect.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have felt so bothered by situations like these— in fact, you weren’t even familiar with events like these, yet somehow what you had seen tonight made your heart ache for something you never knew you wanted.

It felt silly to envy those people who you barely even knew, yet you wished that you could experience that joy that they shared so freely among each other. What would it feel like to be able to enjoy yourself at a gathering without feeling left out? To have people who made the time and effort to spend time with you? To even have butterflies as someone asked you for a dance?

"Are you alright?"

For the second time this evening, you nearly jumped out of your skin. Behind you stood the handsome bartender from earlier, who had apparently followed you out of the tavern.

"You startled me once again."

"My apologies." He said, though he didn't look very apologetic. Perhaps that was just his resting face.

The proper response would've been to tell him it was alright and to forget about it, but you no longer had the energy for formalities; instead, you sigh and draw a hand over your face. "Don't you have work to do?"

The bartender threw a dismissive glance towards his workplace and snorted. "It's alright. Besides, it's also my job to ensure the welfare of our patrons."

"Quite the workplace ethics you have."

"Thank you."

The conversation dies down into a companionable silence as you both gaze at the moon over Mondstadt, extending its moonbeams as a gesture of kindness towards the citizens that weren't partying the night away.

"So, is there any particular reason for why you wanted to clear your head tonight?" He asks, the moonlight dancing in his ruby eyes like milk in a cup of rosy-red tea.

"Well, there's the usual reason of me not being one for loud social gatherings. That's one."

"What about the fact that your acquaintances left you stranded?"

"That's two reasons," You reluctantly admit, secretly praying that he wouldn't ask anymore questions. Your third reason was embarassing enough and would sound even more pathetic if you said it aloud.

"I have a feeling that there's a third."

Perhaps you should have held your tongue.

"...Yes, there is."

Your dismay must've shown on your face, for the bartender shrugs and returns to moon-gazing. "There's no need to say what it is. I can probably guess it anyway."

No pressing questions, no subtle guilt trips to get you to open up— just an acknowledgement of your feelings and your decision to keep them to yourself. This man was a perfect stranger to you, yet in the span of one evening you felt more comfortable around him than during all of the years you had spend hanging around your acquaintances.

A faint chorus of cheers can be heard from within as the dance reaches the peak of its excitement, the stamping of feet speeding into a frenzy as the music grows faster and faster. The voices of the bards were drowned out like birds in a summer's storm, leaving only the skeleton of a song to be heard by outsiders.

"...Well, it was nothing much in the first place. Just the feeling of being left out."

He gives a soft hum in reply, nodding to acknowledge your answer; somehow, you have the feeling that he understands the sort of loneliness that you've carried with you wherever you went. This stranger had the air of one who was well-versed in the language of loneliness, and he seemed to be the sort of person who wouldn't judge you for it.

"I don't even know why it bothers me so much when I can't even dance in the first place." You smile awkwardly, turning away from the light of the moon to stare longingly at the glowing windows of the tavern. "I'd probably muddle up that first dance alone, much less survive through the entire evening."

As if on cue, the claps slowed in rhythm, signalling that it was time for the long-awaited couples’ dance. Through the windows you could see the faint silhouettes of the boys who extended a hand to their would-be partners, who all accepted with giddy smiles.

Your feet twitch in your shiny new shoes, aching to know what it was to dance and enjoy dancing.

Your companion must have noticed your staring, for he, too, turned to look inside. "Are you sure you don't want to join them? This dance has a slower tempo and is a bit easier to learn."

"It would just be a hassle. Besides, I don't even have a dance partner."

"You do have one."

"Where? I don't see one."

"Right here."

For a moment your mind completely halts, struggling to properly process the full meaning of what the bartender just said. But he does not wait for you to recover— instead, he bows formally, extending one gloved hand to you in his offer.

“May I have this dance, then?” A faint smile flickers across his features, almost impossible to catch in the darkness— but that smile betrays itself in the sound of his voice, in the way it washes over you with its rich baritone and pulls you under in its irresistible warmth.

“I don’t even know your name.” You laugh slightly, yet your hand slips into his all the same. “I can’t very well dance with a stranger, can I?”

You cannot tell if it is the skill of your dance partner or some heaven-sent instinct, but the moment he steps closer to you, everything falls into place automatically; your posture naturally corrects itself, taking on the tall, upright stature of a dancer that you'd only dreamed of imitating, and one hand finds its place on his shoulder while the other firmly clasps his gloved hand. Even your feet forgot their aches and pain, shifting to balance your weight on the balls of the feet just as you had seen the other dancers do.

"My name is Diluc," he says simply, bringing his other hand to rest on the small of your back. "May I be so bold as to ask for yours?"

This was not the kind of dance that you had expected to have tonight— a pas de deux with cobblestone streets for your dance floor and the moon replacing the light of a chandelier, and a strange but trustworthy bartender as your partner. Yet that does not stop the heartbeat that thrums faster than the tempo of any dance, nor does it hinder you from speaking your truth.

“Yes," you reply, your first genuine smile of the evening working its way up your lips. "Yes, you may.”

#tellerluna.rkive: genshin #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin diluc #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc fluff #diluc headcanons #diluc imagines #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc x gn reader #Spotify

[all-l-wanna-do]

hiii i dont know how to start this and im extremely awkward so im just gonna talk llama also im watching secret life hope im watching the right thing uhgtyguh

OHOH GRIAN!!

the secret keeper sounds ominous

one free punch 😭

OMG THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS CYP THATS LIKE ONE OF MY FAVORITE BIOMES GYUYFTIUJHI DO YOU LIKE DEM????

THE PUMPKIN SISTERS OMG I LOVE THAT

hbgyuijhb jumping off like a Huge mountain into a water source is soooo much fun llama

the pink wood is so prettyyyy 😭

i hate creepers <3

what do you think abt the drip stone stuff?? i love using it to collect lava

AAAAAA OMG SHE ALMOST FELL INTO THE BIG CAVE YIKES thats how i almost died in my hardcore world lollll

THEY FOUND DIAMONDS LETS GOOOOO

THE SCOTT OF IT ALL

uhygfugih SHE JUST FELL OUCH GEMS POOR ANKLES

caves scare me sm

GEM AND THE SCOTTS jihugyihjHUIHYI THIS BAND IS FALLING APART

i know collecting obsidian takes forver and a lot of ppl hate it but i love it sm like its so fun

they should build a pink pirate boat

iuhgvyftygh the putting torches everywhere is so real

im loving this plank

if all your friends jumped of a mountain would you? yes.

goat in a boat. goat in a boat. theres a goat in the boat

OMG THE HOUSES ARE SO CUTE AND PINK I LOVE LOVE LOOOVE

LLAMA HIS CHALLENGE WAS JUST STALKING GEM

IM COTTAGEING

llama she needs to put water down around her house before she dies jhhuijkhbjb

huygtf his house is like IN hers 😭

im always growing coco beans for absolutely no reason

OMG I LOVE FISHING CYP DO U LIKE FISHING

the pretty scott and the smart scott im sobbingggg

THEY SHOULD MAKE LIKE A BEE SANCTUARY BC THATD BE(E) CUTE

i think the plan is that im just gonna send u whatever this is every time i watch one of the videos if you dont hate it??

jhbuvgtfygihkj okay so i love this smmm and now i want to play minecraft also sorry i didnt think i was gonna talk sm lol

I LOVED READING THIS

also i absolutely love cherry blossoms, dripstone is a fun bloxk to texture witu (i mostly build i sont do a lot of survival) and fishing is fun!

i love this and im so excited to see next asks!!

[poisonouswritings]

I made the mistake of imaging sage and mc 5 yrs after the start of the prologue, blowing up balloons and setting up decorations for their kids bday party. And how Sage dreamed of having a great birthday party like this when he was little and that's why he loves birthdays now, and he FINALLY gets to do that for his little kid and he starts crying cus all he can think is "I made it, I'm happy" STOP IM CRYING 😭😭😭😭

btw how was your day Ozzy? I still have COVID unfortunately 😒

-disney anon

Oh noooo 🥺 I hope the symptoms aren't too bad and they clear up soon!!

Right this moment I'm doing okay but ask me again in five hours and you will get a vastly different answer

Also AAAAAA THAT'S SO CUTE!!

GN!Reader, short and fluffy, personally I hc that Sage probably was the runt of a litter and therefore has older siblings that he does not ever speak to

I'm tempted to say that because Sage is a cat, you guys have a greater chance of having twins/triplets because,, y'know,,, cats usually have litters. But that's not really the. The point. So.

Anyways your child(ren) is outside playing with Tulsi. Felix and Anisa are hanging up streamers and a banner in the living room. You and Sage are in the kitchen blowing up balloons. A pan of freshly-made pastries are cooler on the counter.

And Sage is crying.

You don't notice it at first. Sage doesn't wear his eyepatch as often as he used to. When it's just you and your kid(s) he keeps it off but still in his pocket.

Usually it ends up getting used as a prop to play pirates

He doesn't really use it in front of Tulsi, Anisa, or Felix, either, so long as you're all staying inside. But he still prefers using it in public, and he definitely needs it when people he doesn't know are coming into your house. He gets stressed, y'know? Your house is his territory and cats are very particular about that kind of thing. But it wouldn't be much of a party if your kid(s) couldn't have their friends over. So he's wearing the eyepatch and he's being pretty quiet. It's about what you expected when you first started planning the party.

You don't really notice anything is wrong until you ask Sage to hand you some string so you can tie some of the balloons together. When he doesn't respond, you look up from your art project.

He's just... Sitting there. Holding a red balloon between his hands and staring at it. His tail quivers against the floor. He sniffles a tiny bit. A tear rolls down his cheek but he doesn't seem to notice.

You frown and set your balloons off to the side in favor of reaching across the table to gently nudge his shoulder.

"Sage? Everything okay?"

His ear flicks. For a moment he seems a little surprised, but then it turns to... Embarrassment. Amusement? His cheeks are tinged pink. He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together and giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"Y-yeah. 'm fine. I was just... Thinking about somethin'."

You get up and walk around the table, keeping your hand firmly in his. You set the red balloon off to the side and then plop into his lap. You have to bite your cheek to keep from grinning at the playful groan he makes. He hugs you close against his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of your shoulder. You use your free hand to scratch behind his ears.

"About what?"

For a few moments he doesn't respond. His fingers drum against the back of your hand in a steady staccato. When he does speak his voice is soft and halting, almost like he isn't sure he wants to get the words out.

"I never..." He huffs and presses his forehead against you, voice little more than a mumble. "'s stupid, but... I never really had a birthday party growing up, y'know? There was never enough left over. Balsam 'n Tulsi did what they could but... things were tight. 'N obviously a party isn't somethin' you need, but..."

"...sometimes you need a little special attention?" you offer.

He nods. You hear a little sniffle as he squeezes your hand.

You also hear a startled yelp from Felix and a lil crash. So there's a solid 6/10 chance he fell off the stepladder.

"'n I'm just thinking that..." He finally looks up at you. The tears are coming a lot more freely now. You carefully undo the eyepatch and wipe his tears away. He nuzzles into your hands. His eyes are full of admiration. His words are faster now, rushed like he has to get it out now. "I'm lucky to be where I am now y'know? Having an amazing kid I can throw parties for, and friends who'll help decorate, a-and someone amazing who puts up with me."

You smooth his ears back. Brush your lips along his forehead. "Someone who loves you," you correct.

He hesitates. Makes a little whining noise in the back of his throat. Nuzzles his head under your chin and finally, finally relaxes. You can hear the shy smile in his voice and the excited wag of his tail.

"Yeah. Someone who loves me."

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #fictif #sage lesath #sage lesath x reader #fictif sage #last legacy sage #fren asks #ozzy answers #tumblr stop hiding me from tags

[expvrgction]

1, 7, 12, & 13

(aaaaaa it's already the 1st where i live but i'll answer anyway)

Source!

1. Have you made any new friends this year in fandoms your muse isn't from? Who?

Definitely! There's @four-4-dream-land / @dimensional-duo for starters, who runs a Kirby RP blog and a another with A Kirby + Mario RP blog. @the-rat-house with the Squeaks and a couple other characters in the mix, too!

There also are people running RP blogs of original characters I made friends with such as @ssatxr and @chiromutt! (tho i don't remember if i made friends with both in 2022 or a year prior lmao)

7. Talk about one of your favorite threads that started this year. (If you get multiple of this ask, talk about multiple threads!)

That would be the thread that introduced Kirby and his friends to one of my OCs (Kahann), and then it led to Doomguy. I believe it was one after Meta Knight got a cursed gift from Davoth and ended up being under its influence a few weeks later.

Were it not for these two, there would be a possibility of actual deaths. Oh, and the pink boi and old man got to harass a baron(ess) of hell mid-thread.

12. Tag a blog whose character inspired you this year.

There actually are many blogs whose muses inspired me this year, so I'll shoutout a couple blogs: @kcnhub @cloakedinfall @savior-of-humanity @errantwish @four-4-dream-land @the-rat-house @times-immora

If you're not tagged here, don't worry-- You all inspired me to write (even if low activity is kicking my ass lol).

13. Tag a blog whose world building inspired you this year.

That would be @immy-ooc (@sins-of-the-sea)! While I don't write historical characters (we're talking about characters based on some real life history and not alternate history muses like B.J), I would check out whenever the pirates are written on dash. Of course, there are still topics they touch that I'd rather NOT see, but again, the writing is top notch to me. Props to people who make original content actively, by the way! (I have some OCs without ties to existing media but barely ever use them.)

#It is now safe to turn off your computer. (OOC) #You've got mail! (Ask answered)

[starry-night-rose]

Let's see ... I associate pink with you, of course! Also, texts that use lots of cute emoji, ribbons, tiaras, and cute plushies. You have "princess dream house" vibes and they're wonderful <3

AWWWW IM SORRY I TOOK FOREVER TO GET TO THIS!

Pink - Woah! Who told you I like pink! That was confidential! Just kidding! But AAAAAA IM SO HAPPY YOU ASSOCIATE PINK WITH ME! I feel so honored to be the “pink one!” Thank you again!

Text that use a lot of cute emojis - AWWWWWWWWW THANK YOU! I really do use a lot of cute emojis.....oh well! 💖💕💘💞💓💝

Ribbons - OOOOOOOOOOo! I do really love bows and ribbons! I think everything would look better with a pretty ribbon on it!

Tiaras - AWWWWWW THANK YOU! Tiaras make everything better! I think the world would be better if everyone wore a tiara!

Cute plushies - AAWWWWW THANK YOU! I’m so glad I give you cute plushie vibes aaaaaaa

Princess dream house vibes - PRINCESS DREAM HOUSE VIBES??? OH MY GOD I LITERALLY FEEL SO HONORED MY GOD AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH AAAAAAAAA! I’ve finally achieved my dream vibes!

#mutuals <3 #asks! #MWAH MWAH THANK YOU #NO YOURE WONDERFUL! #I am so sorry for the delay in this aaaaaaaaaaaa #THANK YOU AGAIN! #daisy 🌼

[gaxlayflower]

Underforest-Chapter 4

"Child, put the berries down now, and drink the water." She said to me very calmly and cautiously, as if I had just picked up a snake that could kill her. I sat the berries down on a log nearby and drank the water flowing from a stream nearby. "W-what was that berry? Why are you so scared?" She paced back and forth, biting her nails as if they were the most delicious steak on the planet. "Child, those berries are heavily toxic, and would've killed you in minutes if you hadn't drunk that water." She explained. My eyes became wide at the sound of that. Oh God damn it- Not a second too soon, I fainted right there on the spot.

The awful dreams returned, worse than before. This time, I was the victim. Mercilessly, they tortured me, they killed me. It felt like my world was splitting apart. I called out for help, in the dream world and in the real world (I assumed), but nobody came. Then, after an awful experience of being roasted alive, the world faded away to a small, orange and purple flower. Flowey. The flower turned around, smiled, and said "Howdy!" in a pleasant manner. "Wh-what do you want…?" The flower giggled, and it's face morphed into a human with almost the same face as me, but it had pink blush, and it had a wide smile on its face.

"Aw come on, can't I appear in your dreams every so often, friend?" I shook myself hard, my eyes avoiding the face. "No… NO! You are not welcome here! I yelled at the top of my lungs. "LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU CREEP!" The flower shuffled back, as if taken aback by my choice of words. It quickly changed its face back to the smile. "Fine. But I will be back. I need those souls after all… haha."

The flower disappeared, the world went white, and I woke up. "Oh!" I heard Toriel's voice beside me. "Thank goodness, she's awake! Quickly, Froggit, get her some water." I heard a ribbit as I sat up in bed, only to open my eyes to a large frog sitting on me. "AAAAAA!!" The frog jumped back in surprise, and the cup on its head flipped several times before landing beside me. "O-oh! Froggit, as amazing as that was, we do not surprise people!" I groaned and looked over at Toriel. "What happened…?"

"My child, you seemed to have eaten some poisonous berries.” Toriel said while looking at me. “I am sorry that I have not warned you that some of the berries here are poisonous.” She smiled brightly, "The important thing is that you're okay." Yeah… Anyways. I tried to get up, but she stopped me. “Child, I don’t want you to risk it. The poison may still be in there. Allow me to heal you for a bit.” I nodded, sat back down, and let her heal me.

(Five hours, twenty two minutes, and 4 glasses of water later…)

                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toriel had gone to sleep, and the Froggit and Whimsun had left. I sat there, lying in bed, wishing I could leave. Maybe… there is a way. I slowly got up from bed and tiptoed to Toriel’s room making sure she was still asleep. I snuck out through the front door, past the Froggit in the living room (how it got in, I didn't know), and into the woods. Behind Toriel's house, I found a path, as well as a large archway made of a strange stone. What is this place? "My child. You should not have come." I turned around slowly, only to see Toriel with a somber look, and flames hovering over her hands. “T-toriel?” 

“I know what you have been planning, my child.” I think back to all my attempts to leave. Suddenly, a fireball spins at me. I don't have fast enough reflexes, and I get hurt. Another hits me and….Suddenly everything goes black. Did I faint again? I wake up in front of Toriel's house, and it's still nighttime. What…? Interested. I wondered if I could go back at any time. I went inside the house, then thought with all my heart about going back. It worked, and when I opened my eyes, I was in front of the house. But what exactly happened? When the fireball hit me, did I faint? Did Toriel pick me up and drop me out of the house? But that wouldn’t explain me being able to go back. I put my hand on the door knob but then I heard that maniacal laugh again. I turned around but nothing was there. But then pain shot through me and everything went black again. What happened? Then I heard a voice. The voice of that flower talking about being god. I woke up in front of Toriel's house again and immediately opened the door and went inside. What is happening? This can’t be normal. 

Too confused to figure this out, I ran back to the archway, ignoring the sinking feeling I felt. I ran through the archway, only to be stopped immediately by Toriel. “My child, where are you going?” I was too scared to answer. “You don’t need to speak. I know you want to leave the ruins.” I was going to say something but then she interrupted me. “But I can't let you leave….It’s too dangerous out there.” “Why is it too dangerous?” I asked. “The monsters outside of these ruins will…want to kill you.”  “Why will they want to kill me?” Toriel then laughed softly. “You are very curious! You remind me of somebody….” 

“But….you don’t need to know that…just go back to my home.” I really wanted to know. “But-” Toriel interrupted me. “No buts. Go back to my home NOW.” I stood my ground. “No.”

“Every child who has come, and passed. They all were killed by ASGORE. If you leave… you may be next. Are you willing to risk that?” We were silent, before I looked up. “Yes.” She summoned large fireballs around her. “Then prove yourself.” She spoke with a determination I had never seen before. Toriel then threw the fireballs at me and I attempted to dodge it but one hit me. “Oof!” 

“I don't want to fight you, Toriel!” She didn’t say anything. I dodged another couple of fireballs. “I won’t fight you!” Again, nothing. Another couple of fireballs appeared, and I zipped, ducked, and slid under them. “I won’t!” Toriel looked…confused? “What are you doing?” She attacks me more, with a string of fire balls. “Fight or run away!” She continues to attack, and I continue to not fight. “Stop it.” “Go away!” “...” “I know you want to go home, but please..go back...” 

“We can have a good life here.” 

“Why are you making this so difficult?!”

“...”

“Haha, pathetic, is it not? I cannot even save a single child. No, I understand. It would be difficult to raise you here. The Ruins are very small once you get used to them. My expectations, my fear…”

“Child. Promise me this. Stay safe out there. Don’t be like the others that left me. They met an awful fate… but I believe you have the power to change this land forever.” She smiled one last time, hugged me, and went home, leaving me to the archway.

Previous First Next

#undertale au story #underforest au #undertale au #undertale #writing #ut au #ut aus #story #au story

[happyheidi]

#pink houses pink houses aaaaaa #I love them sm!! #cottagecore #nature #naturecore #flowers #flowercore #victorian house #pink house #unique #pink aesthetic #garden #grandmacore #dollhouse #fairycore #farmcore #soft academia #soft aesthetic #angelcore #angel #cool #cute #houses #hot pink #pastel

[growup-thatbeautiful]

id love to see a timmy fic based on lover!! love ur work sm :-)

omg thank you so much :))) i love lover so much, i just listened to the whole album the other day aaaaaa

send me a song and i’ll write a fic!

lover

it’s way beyond christmas time, and your tree is still up. so are the porcelain christmas town houses that you still have from growing up. along with the christmas decorations are new years banners and some confetti.

it’s not a problem, however, because there’s no one who can tell you to clean it up. timothee likes the ambiance just as you do, and this is the house that the two of your share together. no one else can really tell you what to do with your interior designing.

you love this house. it’s a perfect mix of the two of you. his taste tends to be more vintage. you laughed when he told you that, because the amount of period pieces he’s been in should of let you know.

you lean towards a more bohemian style, plants that timothee complains about but “secretly” sings too. bright colored rugs and art prints sit alongside delicate tea cups and chaise lounges in a unique style that somehow works.

every room has a different feel to it. the living room covered in plants and deep green velvet, the bedroom with its pink desk and bedspread, and the dining rooms blue upholstered chairs and patterned rug.

it’s a special place, and it’s even more special because you get to live there with the person that you love, the person that you’re pretty sure you want to spend the rest of your life with.

you’re in the kitchen right now, debating if you should bring a coat to meet some of your friends. timothee is, predictably, getting ready upstairs.

“come on, we don’t want to be late,” you call to timothee, knowing that it will do absolutely nothing to make him go faster.

“almost done,” he calls back. true to his word, he comes down the stairs dressed in a light sweater and dark jeans. “okay, let’s go.”

you grab the keys off their hook and toss them to timothee, who slides into the drivers seat.

the drive is relatively short, made shorter by easy conversation. your friends are already there when you arrive, sitting at a table. they jump up when they see the two of you, and run over to hug you.

after, you order food and start talking. your friends, lou and mike, mention something about the hotel they’re staying canceling the rest of their reservations because of troubles with the air conditioning.

“you guys can just crash at our place,” suggests timothee.

“yeah, we have plenty of room. and a extremely comfortable couch.”

“that we do,” says timothee. “it’s really not trouble at all. we’re always happy for the company of friends. plus,” he adds, “we have a whole bunch of cookies that we made yesterday. the recipe was a lot bigger than expected.”

“how could we say no to that,” smiles lou. “just let us pick our stuff up from the hotel, then we can be proper parasites on you.”

“wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

you head back home, lou and mike arrive a few minutes later, loaded with luggage. you help them with their bags and put them in the living room downstairs.

they stay for two nights. you’re always happy to host, especially friends like them.

they’re good guests, not making any huge messes and able to put up with you and timothee’s antics.

everything is perfectly fine until the last morning. you’re sitting in the living room with lou, timothee in the kitchen making coffee. he brings a mug in for you and then lou. once he’s gone, lou says “he really is the sweetest. you’re lucky to have a man like him. i’m sure he’s in high demand these days,” she jokes.

she means nothing by it, of course. you know that. she’s one of the sweetest people you know, but maybe that’s why it digs in. even she can see that timothee could have anyone.

“he sure is,” you say with a forced smile.

after coffee, lou and mike say their goodbyes. you try to forget about the comments, and you really are sad to see them go.

once they’re gone, you start doing the dishes. timothee comes up behind you and hugs you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“i could see some tension between you and lou. did something happen?” he asks.

“it’s stupid. it’s nothing.”

“come on, talk to me. we don’t need to fight.”you hate how desperate he sounds. you both absolutely hate fighting.

“we’re not fighting. there’s nothing to fight about.”

“you’re making this really difficult.”

“you won’t understand! because you’re you and i’m me!”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you don’t answer. “come on, you said it so it means something. tell me!” you don’t want to voice your fears because if you do then they’re more likely to come true. he’ll hear then and think “you know what, she’s right. i could do better.” and leave you in this house.

so, you run. you storm upstairs, past the bedroom and pull down the stairs that lead to the attic. once your up there, you set up the projector, and a film of the captured moments between you and timothee stars to play.

it’s bittersweet to look back on these moments, because you don’t know if you just ruined everything. a flash of when you surprised him on set, a someone took of you two dancing in the street to the tune of a band, and a clip of you and him playing in the snow last christmas.

you hear timothee coming up the stairs before you see him.

“hey, love. i’m sorry for the way that ended.”

“i am too. i know i shouldn’t run out like that, but i just…”

“got scared. i understand. i hate it when we fight. i don’t want us to end like that.”

“me neither.”

“are you ready to talk?” he asks. “it’s okay if you aren’t,” he adds. you think for a moment before replying.

“i just think that everyone wants you. and you, well let’s be honest, you could have anyone. i sometimes debate your choice of me. god, i hate feeling like this. jealousy is a waste of an emotion.” his features soften and he gives you a encouraging smile.

“honey, i’m yours. you don’t have to worry about that,” he says.

“i just feel like-i mean we’ve been together for almost three years, and i want us to be together for the rest of my years too. i keep getting scared that you’ll get bored of me. then we won’t get that time together.”

“as long as i have anything to say about it, we will,” he promises. “we’ve both been hurt by love like this in the past. love that seems perfect when it’s happening. i can tell you right now that i’ll try as hard as i can to stay with you like they didn’t in the past. as long as you’ll have me, i’ll be there for all your overdramatic reactions to every single photoshoot and movie.”

you pull him closer and drag him under the blanket, watching old home-videos together in the cold attic. it’s the room you two have spent the least amount of time designing together, for obvious reasons, but it’s the room that you think means the most to you at this moment.

#timothee x you #timothee chalamet writing #timothee chalamet x you #timothee #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timmy chalamet x reader #timmy chalamet #timmy chalamet x you #hal chal #timothee writing #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee fiction #timothee fanfic #timothee fic #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfiction

[alycosworld]

guess who🤡 heyhey 💕 here. I’m pretty sure by this 2nd request u can tell that I’m a very emotional person🧍🏻‍♀️ and that I’m a person that seeks alot of comfort from fictional characters because i dont have a life and good friends.

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putting a divider here so u dont have to read everything and can look out for keywords!

purple—> person

pink—>genre

green—>subject

➽───────────────❥

I’m not sure if u r comfy writing kazuha so if yr not I’m sorry u can ignore this! i just want a fluff comfort for reader who got like REALLY scolded for getting bad grades for exams because u have no idea how angsty I’m feeling rn:( my parents just literally like scolded me like there was no tmr istg- so i just need really fluff comfort. so a kazuha x NB(non bibary)!reader

➽───────────────❥

Anyways again tysm u have no idea how grateful i am if you accept my request!!!<3 get lots of rest and drink water. only do this if you want to!

byebye<3

-💕

Kazuha's Wise and Whimsical Words

Kaedehara Kazuha X Reader

A/N: aaaa 💕anon ily!! being emotional is completely fine and I would be honoured to become of your good friends!! I will be a part of your life, private message me if you're ever feeling down! I just want my readers happy because they make me happy aaaaaa 🥺

with that being said, i love this request! My parents were so hard on me when it came to exams, but as soon as I broke away from their expectations, I started to appreciate my grades more. I'll leave the real comforting words for Kazuha to say but NO ONE SHOULD EVER be disappointed in yourself if you tried your best. Thank you for your support and the request, I hope the story makes you feel better. Enjoy!

ps: I took into account the fact that not everyone has a mother and a father and not everyone has two parents at all, so only one parent is mentioned here and they are left gender neutral so it's easier to picture yourself in the story.

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"(Y/N). This is not at all what I expected. What happened to you?" Your parent asked sternly.

"Well, I--"

"I don't want to hear any excuses. Your predicted grades were much higher than this!" They said, raising their voice.

"I'm sorry, I--"

"Sorry is not going to improve your results! Do you really think that now is a good time to be slacking off? You have one more exam period before university. I don't care if you pass those exams, I want you to excel. And if you don't, you are not attending Sumeru Academia, whether they accept you or not. I am not paying for you to study overseas, only for you to get mediocre grades." They said, making you even more anxious than before the exam.

"But I got above the average!"

"By two percent! And the average was low." Your parent said, narrowing their eyes slightly and upsetting you with their belittling gaze.

"Realistically--"

"Realistically? Realistically?! If you want to study realistically, you should find someone else to pay for your education. When you want to study successfully, you can come back." They slammed the stack of sheets that displayed your results on the table with a loud bang before folding their arms as you grabbed a jacket and stormed out of the house, tears running down your face.

You walked for a while in the night, before eventually finding yourself in an area you were less familiar with. After recognising it to be somewhere near your boyfriend's current residence off Beidou's ship, you made a beeline for his place, knocking on the door and hoping, praying he would be alone inside.

The door soon opened and Kazuha stood there, initially with a smile on his face but it soon dropped when he saw your expression.

"(Y/N)? What happened?" He asked.

"C-can I come inside?" You sniffled.

"Of course, Love. Come in." He said, ushering you into his quaint little place. You stood by the door that closed behind you before Kazuha pushed the coat you had lazily draped over your shoulder onto the floor and enveloped you in his arms.

You broke down in his embrace. You had done better than most of your fellow students, and frankly, you were kind of proud of your result. But it was foolish of you to think that your parent would accept anything but perfection. They said it was all for you, but you were doubting it. Did you even want to go to Sumeru Academia? You had had your heart set on it since you were a child, but maybe that was only because your folks always envisioned you going there.

"Why are you crying, my love?" Kazuha asked, sitting you down near the fire to warm you up and standing up to get you a blanket and a hot cup of tea.

"I'm not good enough." You mumbled. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have heard you. But your boyfriend could listen to the wind "talk" - he was very attuned to quiet and subtle noises.

"Nonsense." He smiled, bringing you the blanket as you listened to the water boil in the background.

"You're more than good enough. Everyone who knows you adores you - no one more than me, of course." Kazuha chuckled, eventually setting down two cups of tea and sitting in front of you on the floor.

"Public opinion won't improve my grades." You said, now more stoic than upset. You had almost become numb and desensitised to degrading comments that after you cried a little and calmed down, you'd be straight-faced and almost emotionless. It didn't feel good, but it was certainly better than feeling bad.

"So this is about school." Kazuha nodded, gesturing for you to continue explaining why had happened.

"They keep talking about my grades. They said I shouldn't be slacking and that I'm not going to get to Sumeru Academia and that they want me to do better...maybe I'm interpreting it wrong. Maybe they're trying to encourage me?" You wondered aloud, thinking that somehow you were the problem. As soon as you said "they", Kazuha knew who you are referring to and sighed.

"Encouragement and doubt are two very different things. Unrealistic expectations, detrimental practices, emotionally, mentally or physically taxing improvement - none of that is going to help you. In fact, it'll make you feel worse. When you really think about what you have to do to achieve perfection, you'll only realise how unattainable it is. You'll fall into a perpetual spiral of intellectual destruction." Kazuha said.

"Then how the hell am I gonna get the best results?" You asked worriedly.

"You won't. No one will ever get the best results because more people and more previously unforeseen factors will come into play. What you can achieve is your best results. Your grades are a product of you, not the other way around. They are no measure of your worth, they cannot define you, and they do not have to be a part of you. If you don't ace one subject, you don't have to hang on to that or turn it into some strange part of you. You can't cling to it, it's impossible to cling to a piece of the past forever. That's not to say you don't learn from it, but it doesn't need to become some villainous trait - in the end, it is only a grade." Kazuha shield at you. His words warmed your heart more than the fire or tea, and they even seemed to dry your tears and allow you to mirror his expression.

"And at the very least, you can hold your head high knowing that you had the strength to participate in an exam when not everyone does. You went in, sat through it, attempted the questions and walked out. Not everyone has the courage to stay; some don't even have the courage to start. That goes for any endeavour you face." Kazuha said, before inching closer to you.

"Feeling any better?" He asked. You nodded instantly. Of course, Kazuha's wise and whimsical words had bettered your mood, it was Kazuha for Archon's sake.

"Good. Maybe we could go for an evening stroll? I'll treat you to dinner if you haven't eaten." He offered.

"Can...can we just stay like this for a little longer? I think being alone with you is nicer." You smiled.

"Of course, Angel. Anything you want."

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this was less physical fluff than I intended, but I think I do comfort with direct words and dialogue best, so I hope this is okay. honestly, everything kasha said is what I would've wished to hear when I was in this situation. I'll probably post a rant about my own exam experiences because this request got all my past feelings to resurface.

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

#kazuha #genshin #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha kaedehara #genshin impact #genshin kazuha #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #kasha fluff #fluff comfort #comfort #kazuha comfort #non-binary reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n

[toorutsumu]

HAIKYUU BOYFRIENDS (INARIZAKI EDITION)

Just some random boyfie🥺 stuff with cute pictures ily

Suna

He's a chill boyf, doesn't need anything extra like social media bragging and stuff, just needs your presence in his room while he listens to music and smokes stuff (you both have matching custom made bongs im sorry i dont make the rules)

He only uses his phone to take candid pictures of you doing random stuff like brushing your teeth after staying the night (he sees you bending over the sink in his oversized shirt and panties and gets hard while also thinking you're a work of art and he's soft for you🥺🥺🥺)

Most of your dates include staying in, watching movies and shows and cuddling -he likes gory slasher horror movies and makes you watch all of them- you both usually order in a bunk of junk food but sometimes you have cute cooking dates when you guys bake special brownies and cookies

When y'all go out, its usually trips to the skate parks to meet his friends and group dates with his volleyball friends. If you bring him to hangout with your friends he'll grumble alot but will end up coming because he likes you and wants to stay with you 😭

He loves having you around, and although he isn't very over protective he doesn't like it when you get upset because of someone and will glare at them with fox eyes till they back off🦊🦊🦊

He gives you his hoodies for a week and then takes them back just so they smell like you and this becomes a cycle so you end up having different hoodies and jackets every week

LAZY MAKEOUT SESSIONS ON THE COUCH YES YES YES his hand holding ghe back of your neck tilting your face towards him , slow kisses and neck biting im crying:")

Atsumu

Y'all are the crackhead couple lmao well not really you actually help calm him down when he's over excited and he's so energetic that you always have adrenaline pumping through you when you hang out with him

Your dates are mostly outdoors like adventure parks and arcades , you always end up laughing and smiling with a lot of goodie bags full of gifts and souvenirs

If you get tired physically (which lets be honest you might be at the end of dates w this man who can match his energy) he'll be a perfect boyfriend and carry you on his back, so you end up getting a lot (A LOT) of piggy back rides

He buys you tons of stuff all the time, he's always thinking of you when he has to do something other than volleyball, even when hd goes to a convenience store he'll get your favourite snacks and drinks, god bless him when he goes to the mall he'll pick up whole ass outfits for you

Making out in semi public places is your thing- photobooths, roller coaster seats and those private cafe booths all the way in the back

But he can be soft and peaceful for you, takes you to picnic dates where he just lays his head on you lap while you both talk about stuff , you will always end up laughing at his antics and both of you will have very visible heart eyes for each other throughout🥺🥺🥺

Osamu

PERFECT BOYFRIEND aaaaaa i love him😭😭😭

He's just so sweet, will listen to you talk for hours at end ,thinks your voice is perfect , cups your face in his big hands randomly, will bend down to kiss you so that you dont have to stand on your toes to kiss him

He cooks your favourite food and brings them to you in pastel bentos and hands them over to you all shy without making eye contacts but as soon as you start eating his eyes are on your face watching every reaction , you love his food and he loves cooking for you y'all perfect uwu

You guys have very lowkey dates in cute cafes and public parks with long walks hand in hand, he does that thing with his jacket where he zips it open , brings you to his chest and zips it up over you and you're small compared to him so only a small part of your head peeks out aw🥺

He loves posting pictures of you and food together, those pictures in which the table is filled with aesthetically pleasing food and you look so cute and blushy he just cant help but blush too

He kisses you on the doorstep of your house after dates which usually turn into long drawn out kisses , but he's so sweet he wont push for more until you literally drag him into your house for more kisses😠😠😠

Kita

Oh my god he's the cutest he's always so blushy when you hold his hand and will say yes to everything you say because he's so flustered by you dont tease him too much he might combust

He's strict with his teammates but with you he practically melts in your arms, when you hug him by wrapping your arms around his waste from behind he always turns a shade of pink, will shower you with kisses in private

Thinks you are perfect, will have a dazed smile on his face when he stares at you which is all of the time, gets very distracted by you just walking into the room

Buys you both matching pastel hoodies and soft knitted sweaters to keeps u both warm and cuddly, drapes himself over you when he's tired and loves it when you pat his head

When you meet his grandmother, you're very nervous that she might not like you but he tells you that ge thinks youre the best person on earth (he's a poetic mf sorry) and he's sure his grandmother will think the same

Your parents LOVE him, kinda want to hang out with him more, even let him spend the night in your room (excuse me 2 teenagers in a room a full night where did your parents what how im shocked) and he takes full advantage of this, kissing you while doing mundane domestic stuff like doing homework, brushing your teeth aaaaa

He goes on group dates with you and your friends and talks to everyone very politely but always also gives you attention making sure you're having fun you're his no. 1 priority🥺🥺🥺🥺he loves to take care of his baby

#haikyu x reader #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyu x male reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x me #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu!! #inarizaki #suna x you #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu suna #suna headcanons #suna x y/n #suna rintaro imagine #hq atsumu #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #msby atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu scenarios #hq osamu #osamu headcanons #osamu smau #kita x y/n

[mitsuyascumsock]

Pls friend spare me Sanzu hcs it can be anything you want (SFW or NSFW) i just wanna be fed aaaaaa

- Tokyo-Revevengers-confessions

Eat up my dear, new Sanzu HCs dropped!

Sanzu Haruchiyo HCs

CW: drugs, guns, murder, NSFW in the second half

SFW

He's obsessed with the FNAF lore

I can't stress this enough, he owns a bright pink barbie jeep that he forces all of Bonten into

His favorite song is Let's Dance by David Bowie

One time Kakucho was worried about him so he went to his house

He found Sanzu high off his ass watching Disney princess movies

Yes, he invited Kakucho to watch with him.

By invited I mean forced him to

He's also definitely taken Mikey, Kakucho, and the Haitanis to Disney world

He's a Disney adult I'm so sorry

His favorite princess isn't a princess at all, it's Alice from Alice in Wonderland

He plays Wii games at 3am

He smells like strawberries!

It's because that's the flavor in his vape

Also yes, he definitely vapes and thinks it's cool

This is people in Bonten bullying him

Sanzu is bi!

He makes homophobic jokes to try and seem straight

It doesn't work

He once went to a Wiggles concert while high

He loves lemonade! Always has some in the house

Also he's a great baker

He's the kind of guy who goes on WebMD and thinks he's dying

NSFW

Sometimes he fucks you and explains ways he could kill you in that moment

The man has a choking kink

And a knife kink

Honestly he's just a sadist

He buys you expensive lingerie just so he can rip it off you

Loves when you suck his dick

Thinks you're so cute when you gag on him

Obviously he loves fucking while high

Obsessed with giving you oral too

Doesn't matter what you have down there, he loves using his mouth to make you writhe on the bed.

He'd do anything to have your cum on his tongue at any given moment

CNC kink.

Loves fucking you with a loaded gun

He'll cockwarm you for hours at a time, even during Bonten meetings

When he's in a bad mood, his only goal is to cum. Doesn't matter how much you beg him to make you cum too, he won't help you.

"if you don't cum on your fucking own, you don't cum at all. Stop being a brat."

Speaking of brats-

Sanzu is versatile but leans dom

a massive brat whenever he's the submissive

Also? Praise kink when he's the sub and degradation kink when he's the dom

Of course, he'll always do both

LOVES calling you his "pretty whore"

I have more but I realized this was going on a little long-

#sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo manji gang #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #sanzu x reader #sanzu supremacy #tokyo revengers sanzu #malewife sanzu #tw guns🐦 #tw drugs🐦 #tw noncon🐦 #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers

[bubbelpop2]

we have gross/yandere Spamton, but what about the addisons ?

AAAAAA I love the addisons

Pink: He's the most affectionate out of all of these freaks. He's constantly asking to spend time with you, gets angry and suspicious when you even talk to other people. He's clingy, but very sweet and thoughtful. He needs a lot of reassurance that you've only got eyes for him. He's very narcissistic, but never lets that get in the way of making you feel good about yourself, too. You two dressing up for a flashy night on the town and him bragging about you constantly is his way of showing he's proud to have you. You're showered in gifts, and you always have an outfit for every occasion. You're his, and everyone knows it.

Blue: He's constantly taking you on dates, getting you to try his different kinds of teas as a taste tester, he keeps you to himself, though. He doesn't want anybody else to see you, not because he's ashamed of you, but because he wants absolutely zero chance of you leaving him for someone else. He's also the biggest pushover, and he finds himself constantly doing things for you, either helping around the house, giving you massages, and doing most of the things you say. Good cook, very cute. He's housewife material.

Orange: He's the most physical and the most possessive out of them all. He's the most likely to use his body to keep you. Either by literally holding you down, keeping you next to him, a hand on your hip at all times, or by pulling you into breathtaking kisses after dates, constantly dragging you to the side for less than public-safe makeouts. Things escalate with him quickly, and you find yourself in the position of leaving his room with legs shaking like a newborn deer frequently. Most definitely a cuddler, leaves marks all over you.

Yellow: He takes you out for little adventures often. Small shops you've never been to, huge booming clubs with dance music constantly in the background- he's exciting! He's always always excited to take you on New experiences, walks, and keeping a close eye on you all the while. He can be a little overwhelming sometimes, but he makes up for it by being excellent company, talking a lot about things he's read, and finding out as much as he can about your interests. He so desperately needs your company, he does everything he can to seem interesting.

All of their behavior eventually escalates once you get a peek into their inner mind. Starting to realize that they may have a few screws loose, here's how it escalates:

Pink: Insists on you wearing more and more revealing clothing to show off the marks he's given you- and more and more ridiculous, as well. It starts to include collars, starting as cloth chokers and eventually ending a large, very noticable spiked leather collars. Starts keeping you on a literal leash instead of a figurative one. It's all very high quality, though.

Blue: he has no limits on what you can ask him to do for you. Eventually, you'll realize you could tell him to do pretty much anything, and he would do it. You wake up to him cooking breakfast, and he spends every sliver of energy he has outside of work on making you happy. He's obsessive, and worrying, constantly by your side. He has dark circles under his eyes, and loses weight because he forgets about his own needs constantly. He would tear himself apart for you.

Orange: he doesnt demand sex or anything, but whenever he catches you doing something he doesn't like- he has a habit of almost threatening you. Tightening his grip on your wrist to the point it bruises, getting aggressive at home and pinning you to the wall, growling about you even looking at someone else- he's sure to always, always remind you who you belong to. You can't run, he'll catch you, and hold you down. He'd never force himself on you sexually, but.. company wise? Uh, yeah.

Yellow: becomes somewhat of an adrenaline junky, although that's not a bad thing, it does get you into quite a bit of trouble from time to time. He's also got something of a substance abuse problem- but he never acts out of line towards you, so despite his health you just tactfully ignore it. Little do you know, though, he's constantly snooping through your stuff and your computer to find out what you want in a partner. He's an excellent actor, and presents himself as an adventurous yet perfect character just for you.

#shut up bubbz #bubbzask #bubbzanon #gross pink #gross orange #gross blue #gross yellow