#OH I FORGOT I HAD A SOURDOUGH TAG

[kkujo]

got a bit too silly goofy (depressed) for the last 4 months and neglected my sourdough starter so i had to throw it out but i have some saved in the freezer so i'm bringing her back to life :)

[starlightinhumanform]

Nothing Sweeter

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Moxiety, Platonic Analoceit (only mentioned)

Summary: When Virgil agreed to work a cashier shift at the bakery, Logan had assured him that they never get customers that late. Instead, Virgil comes face to face with the cutest customer he’s ever seen.

Warnings: None! (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Bakery AU, Tooth-rotting Fluff

A/N: This was written for a request for @catemons-blog ! I haven’t written these babies in such a long time and to was so nice to write them again!! All reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated <3 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3    Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Virgil could feel flour beneath his nails, the warm dough under his hands, his arms moving automatically in the comforting, repetitive shifts of kneading bread. The bakery was like a second home to him but, more specifically, he loved the kitchen. He loved the whole cafe but the front wasn’t where he belonged— Logan and Janus took care of that— but this world of warmth and sweetness and soft scents, that was his.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, they just didn’t seem to click. It seemed like he was always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or missing some social cue that was apparently obvious to everyone else but invisible to him. No, Virgil loved people and he loved to share what he made with them; it was just a lot lower stress to work behind the scenes.

So he surprised even himself when he agreed to run both the front and the back of the cafe for the night. Maybe it was Logan’s promise that nobody came in on a weekday in the late evening. Maybe it was Janus’ bribe that he would make Virgil an extra special mocha coffee tomorrow. Maybe it was the combined power of their pleading eyes. Whatever the case, Virgil found himself alone in the cafe on a late Wednesday evening, with nothing but his hands and his work for company.

Logan had been right— Virgil hadn’t seen a customer since his shift started at 7:00 and as the time stretched forward, it began to seem less and less likely that some would order a coffee this late at night.

When the door chime ran at 10 pm, Virgil was half-expecting it to be Logan or Janus stopping by to see how he was doing (and probably to steal a jam-filled cookie or two).

Virgil walked into the front of the store to say hello but was instead faced by a stranger. They had a round face with large blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair sweeping down their forehead— their face wasn’t ringing any bells. But Virgil didn’t really know the customer’s; he knew their orders .

He quirked an eyebrow as went down the list of regular customers this stranger could be and began taking guesses, “A dozen maple doughnut bars?”

“Um, no actually I want—” Their voice was soft but had a gravely quality that bite at the ends of their words. The voice was unfamiliar to Virgil but for some reason, he wanted to hear it more.

“Hmm, a ciabatta loaf and three everything bagels?”

“No… I was hoping you had—”

“Oh, I know! A loaf of rye, a loaf of pumpernickel, and a loaf of sourdough?”

The stranger began laughing. It was a nice laugh, Virgil guessed, but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn red; he had said something wrong again, hadn’t he?

They stopped laughing long enough to flash Virgil a bright, amused smile, “Are you going to keep guessing the entire night until you get my order right?”

The customer didn’t seem mad, he wasn’t even laughing at Virgil; he was laughing…  because of Virgil? Virgil had made them laugh and that felt very very different than being laughed at. Their laughs ran through the empty little dining area and bounced off the display case, almost entirely empty by this time of day. Their laughs made Virgil feel good, even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

Virgil let himself take another look at the person in front of him. There was a warm, sweet sensation beginning to flutter in his stomach and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The customer was cute, no doubt about it. They were wearing large, round-framed glasses, nearly as gold as their hair. Behind the glasses, their eyes were one of the bluest blue Virgil had ever seen— like water drawn in a saturated kid’s cartoon. They were wearing a blue top tucked into a white pleated skirt and white mary-jane shoes. The skirt had attached suspender straps, one of which had a small pin on it. Looking closer, Virgil realized the pin was a small transgender pride flag with the pronouns “he/him” stamped over it. Ok, so the customer was a he ; and he was really, really cute.

Virgil tried to snap his mind back on focus. The man in front of him had stopped laughing but was still looking at him with a soft, somewhat lopsided smile.

Virgil looked down at his hands, feeling like making eye contact with this person was just a little too much right now. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, do you want to order something?”

“No, I actually was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” Virgil could feel his eyebrows furrowing together.

“No, no,” He stepped closer to the counter Virgil was behind, “I was just joking, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Virgil had a hard time catching social cues but the way he said “sweetheart” held too much kindness and sincerity for Virgil to miss its meaning. Virgil’s blush grew to a deep crimson.

He walked all the way to the counter so he and Virgil were only a foot apart. Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to flirt with him or run away to the kitchen. Somehow, putting a stove fire out seemed easier than talking to this customer.

Virgil shook his hands below the counter, hoping stimming would help release all of the energy and feelings bouncing around in his body. He tried to remember what Logan had told him in case customers did come in; there were specifically steps Logan was very particular about, “Could I get a name for your order?”

“Of course! My name’s Patton!”

God, even his name is cute.

“Your name’s Virgil?”

Virgil glanced down at his name tag as if he needed reminding of what it said. He nodded in confirmation of Patton’s question.

“That’s such a pretty name,” Patton’s smile reminded him of opening an oven door on a cold day, the warmth and sweetness rolling over him in waves. He felt like he was melting.

Patton’s eyes wandered over the menu board, licking his lips absentmindedly as he tried to make a decision. Virgil wished he could stop looking at his lips.

Finally he looked back over at Virgil, “Could I get three muffins—”

“Uh huh,” Virgil nodded as he jotted the words down on the receipt the way Logan had asked him to.

“—and, uh,” Patton leaned forward even a little closer, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil forgot how to talk in that moment, feelings of happiness practically vibrating through him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he just exploded, just nodding his head to answer Patton like his life depended on it.

Virgil moved as if he were in a dream, packaging the muffins as Patton paid. He felt like the planet’s gravity had suddenly been turned down and he was floating a few inches off the ground. He quickly scribbled his phone number on the bag before handing it to Patton.

“Oh! I almost forgot something!”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow at Patton’s exclamation, “You did?”

“Yeah! Your tip for such great service.”

“No, no you already gave a tip. See, it’s on your receipt beneath—”

Virgil froze as Patton leaned forward and planted a kiss on Virgil’s cheek.

“There! Extra tip for being so cute,” Patton gave him that lovely, warm smile before turning with a wave and walking out of the bakery.

Virgil sank to the floor, disregarding whether or not that was a health code violation. He didn’t care about that right now. His face was tingling and his heart was racing and he felt out of breath. He clapped his hands together, happy stims taking over for a moment as he processed the interaction he had just had with the cutest boy he had ever seen. Maybe working in the front of the bakery had its own benefits…

Virgil couldn’t stop smiling.

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[ted-hyung]

Can you write something about Wonpil being scared of thunder but there's currently a thunderstorm going on and he accidentally texts Sungjin whom he secretly has a crush on

anon-sshi, i changed the setting a bit; instead of accidental texting bc who do dat i don’t (lol) wonpil is found pouting in the pantry by RA!sungjin. yes, a college!AU. yes, anyone can suggest a sequel for this come on like don’t ya need an answer from the last three paragraphs?

sungjin totally look like this can i get an amen:

also forever tagging le sungpil queen @6ungjin

i hope you’ll like this. and reblog. also tagging it as #sungpil . thank you.

(9:19 pm)to: aegiYoon Dowoon whr r u??

(9:23 pm)from: aegihyung sorry im at hyuks. assignment due 2mrw. prolly gonna stay bc of the thunderstorm.

(9:23 pm)from: aegiu ok hyung? i still have snickers in my top drawer if ur hungry.

(9:24 pm)to: aegiT___T Ahh I don’t think I can even sleep??

(9:25 pm)to: aegitHunderstorm is scary…

(9:37 pm)from: aegiso sry hyung. u can crash in jae and brian hyungs room?

(9:38 pm)to: aegiI texted them n they said they’re stuck at the library. I think the whole dorm is. I’m in the kitchen rn making Nutella sandwich.

(9:39 pm)from: aegiok that sucks. sry hyung.

(9:39 pm)to: aegiIt’s ok. I’ll leave you to work. Fighting!

(9:50 pm)from: aegithnks hyung, hyuk said hi. see u 2mrw!!!

wonpil pouts. none of them, not even brian who’s chummy with the RA, paid any attention to the storm warning from the campus. wonpil had just read one huge poster tacked on the announcement wall next to the fridge, advising students to: 1) stay indoors with enough supplies for at least a couple of days, and 2) be wise with their electronic consumption in case of power outage.

wonpil is not doing any of the advised action because: 1) he’s technically eating someone’s sourdough bread (a guy named joh-jon-johnny, probably a foreign freshman) and jinyoungie’s nutella, and 2) his phone is already on its 30% battery life.

he should just packs johnny’s bread and jinyoungie’s nutella to his room, plugs his phone, and eats until he gets sleepy. maybe catching up with the newest gossip from wanna one, the newest boy group the whole korea nation helped to build. like, maybe kang daniel finally filmed a full five minutes video of him speaking in satoori like a certain someone whose satoori is always so adorable instead of scary.

but then the boom rolls across the black sky, flashing white lights against wonpil’s skin and the marbled bar. it’s deafening, and wonpil smears a bit of the nutella on his ears as he covers them with his hands.

wonpil sighs. great, now his ears are sticky. he grabs a tissue placed next to a bowl full of packets of ketchups from various fast food chains. he’s wiping his left ear as the first drops of rain are fired from the dark clouds, hitting the dorm’s roofs like bullets. the spattering is loud, and the thunder that follows is even louder, but nothing can prepare wonpil from a husky,

“ya missed a spot.”

that makes him jump on the stool he’s sitting, very much thisclose to fall to the floor if it’s not for a pair of big, big, big hands straightening him back.

“godfuckin’—so sorry!” it’s sungjin, the RA. his black hair is a mess like he’s been running his thick, thick fingers through his black hair and wonpil wonders why that’s the first thing he notices from the older guy.

here comes his adorable satoori.

“are ya okay?” sungjin asks, his pretty eyes looking small behind the ugly specs he’s wearing. but he’s not ugly, though, in fact, he’s so warm. the plain black t-shirt fits his upper body just right wonpil already forgot about the ugly specs. he’s totally not complaining.

“y-yeah,” wonpil croaks out, grinning. “hi.”

sungjin raises his eyebrows. he’s probably just as surprised as wonpil by his unfiltered, totally unadulterated adoration oozing off from the simple greeting.

at least he’s smiling at wonpil as he reaches to wipe the missed spot from wonpil’s left ear and the split second contact sends a spark of electricity all over wonpil’s heart. sungjin pats wonpil’s shoulder, most likely feeling nothing, and takes a step back.

“snacking?” he asks, rubbing his thumb and index finger clean.

“oh. umm,” wonpil clears his throat, “yes. what about you, sungjin-sshi?”

“just takin’ a break,” sungjin answers, his broad back facing wonpil as he opens the fridge, taking out a box of opened froot loops. he proceeds to grab a handful and eat the sweet cereals like he would peanuts.

“ya can have some,” sungjin offers, holding out the box for wonpil to take and who is wonpil to say no? this is the longest conversation he’s ever had with the friendly but unapproachable RA! this is so exciting! wonpil never knew anyone who eats cereals like they would peanuts! oh my god?!

“this is delicious,” wonpil hums, liking the artificial, fruity taste.

“i know, huh?” sungjin nods. his biceps are huge and he looks kinda cute, somehow, with how he’s hugging the froot loops box close to his chest. wonpil needs to stop staring.

“ya alone?” sungjin asks, clearly aware that wonpil is not going to function properly any time soon. “where’s dowoon?”

“he’s at a friend’s house,” wonpil answers automatically and asks just as abruptly, “do you know my name?”

sungjin laughs. he’s got the kind of laugh that just draws wonpil in; it’s heartfelt and sincere, coming right from his lungs. sungjin’s shoulders are shaking and his adam’s apple is making attractive ripple as he throws his neck back; his ugly specs are somersaulting on his face.

the fact that sungjin is 90% laughing at him doesn’t stop wonpil from feeling proud. if only brian was here to witness this! ha! wonpil never understood why brian is reluctant to introduce wonpil to sungjin—as a friend and not potential anything, mind you—ever since wonpil voiced out that he thought the RA looks like a teddy bear i used to have oh my goood!

sungjin snorts. he takes off his specs and wipes imaginary tears off of his eyes using the hem of his plain black t-shirt and wonpil gets a glance of not abs there. tanned. hairy.

wonpil flushes for a whole different reason now. the thunderstorm is still going strong.