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sanccharine · 7 months

Text

14:30 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo spends the day with you

warning: sickeningly sweet, like makes me want to throw up actually

word count: 2.5k

a/n: assassin!momo is here because indigo works hard af. literally she wrote everything, again i didn't do jackshit for this part, didn't even open docs until yesterday lol. im just here to post and disappear like avatar aang, again :]

masterlist

You cursed as your oven timer dinged for the third time, barely managing to shove your hands into heat proof gloves before hurrying to take the baking tray out of the steaming oven. This had to be your sixteenth batch of heart shaped cookies, an apparent Valentine's day tradition. A cliche, more like, you rolled your eyes.

Although this influx of orders was no doubt good for your growing business, you were just about ready to gouge out your eyes if only to avoid looking at pink food colouring again.

You sighed, at least after this last order for Mr Moyo, you'd be done for the day. As you busied yourself with measuring the flour, something you could do in your sleep now based on the amount of times you'd made this exact recipe, the front door slammed shut.

Momo. Hearing the loud slamming noise would've given you a headache in any other situation, but not today. Today Momo had promised to give you a break from doing the dishes after seeing you knee deep in orders since the morning.

You hadn't even realized how tired you were until she came up behind you and laid her chin on your shoulder. You took a break from kneading and pulled her closer. Sensing your fatigue, Momo wrapped you up in her arms, gently turning you around and laying a soft kiss on your lips.

"Rough day?"

"Mmm," you didn't bother with a more coherent response. Momo got it anyway.

She gazed around at the heart cookies, with their light pink frosting and red and white sprinkles, and snorted, "I don't really get why people would want these."

A beat.

She rushed to add. "Of course not saying that because it's your baking! These look great babe, you've done a really good job on the decor." She cupped her warm hands around your cheeks, emphasizing that she didn't mean anything by what she'd said.

You shook your head, "It is a silly holiday."

"Exactly! That's what I meant," she kissed your cheek in apology.

You settled deeper into her hold. The dough could wait. "But still, it's kind of sweet that people celebrate Valentine's day," you murmured.

Momo could be quite dense sometimes. You had to often spell things out for her. But this, your unmentioned plea, she understood clearly. Maybe it was the exhaustion making you more sensitive than usual. Or maybe it was the sentimentality of the holiday that made you melt against her arm as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Tell you what, you finish up this last batch and I'll run you a bath. How does that sound?"

That did sound great. You gave her a grateful nod as you added, "there's extra frosting in the fridge if you want to try some."

Momo hurriedly disentangled herself and gave you another kiss before rushing to the said fridge. Perhaps it wasn't just you feeling the sentiments of the holiday.

With renewed vigour, you managed to toss the new batch of cookies in the oven, having to wait only for a couple minutes before filling up all your used dishes with soapy water. Although Momo had promised to do them for you, you couldn't just leave them be without rinsing atleast a few.

You trudged upstairs, where your nose was immediately met with the soothing scent of lavender, from the bath salts you had gifted Momo a few months ago. As you slipped into the bathroom, Momo turned to face you.

"So my next flight isn't for another few days."

You nodded silently, focusing on throwing your flour stained shirt into the laundry basket instead. Momo and you had discussed her flight over dinner last night so you didn't know why she was bringing it up again.

"I was thinking we could do something together."

Now that got your attention. You lifted your head and asked with a hint of a smirk, "I thought you said Valentine's day was a shitty occasion."

"I didn't say it like that! And also this doesn't have to be for Valentine's day," she added. "It could be just a date."

"Okay," you shrugged. You would do anything if it meant spending more time with Momo.

She perked up. "Great! I'll plan it out!"

Wait, what?

Before you could ask her anything, she smiled, said "Enjoy your bath!" and left, closing the door behind her.

As you enjoyed your much needed soak in the tub and made your way out of the bathroom, you found Momo hunched over on the bed with her glasses on and laptop in hand. You smiled to yourself. She hardly ever wore her glasses, so she must be taking this date planning very seriously.

As you crawled into bed, she turned her screen towards you and pointed excitedly. "Look!"

You took a look at a website showing various people with axes in their hands. Before you could ask about what Momo wanted to do with a Thor convention, you caught sight of the title at the top of the screen.

Axe throwing. Huh.

"Seems fun, doesn't it?"

You tore your glance away from the laptop to Momo's face, grinning widely and awaiting your answer. You were looking at her, but you weren't really seeing. The only thought in your mind was how cute those glasses looked on her. You really had to make her wear them more often.

"You're adorable," you blurted out as she nudged you for an answer.

Stifling a giggle, she rolled her eyes. "I'm taking that as a yes." And right away, she booked a slot for the two of you. You settled under the covers quietly, not really having any objections but also not expecting her to be so proactive about this date.

"There, all done. It's in the evening tomorrow." She put her laptop away on the bedside table and joined you under the warm duvet.

Not that the duvet stayed settled for long as her words jolted you up. "Wait, tomorrow? I can't tomorrow, I have to deliv—"

Momo took your hands, silencing you in the action. "I know, you have to deliver the cookies. But we could do those on the way to the facility."

You weren't convinced this easily. "What if someone isn't at home? What if we can't deliver some of the orders?"

She shook her head. "The time slot I booked is their last one. It's at 8 pm, which gives us plenty of time to make the deliveries, even if someone isn't home in the morning," she emphasized the end of her sentence to lay your worries at ease.

Kissing the hands still in her grip was the cherry on top, as you finally settled down again, content that Momo had it all planned out. She laughed quietly as she turned to face you, the faint yellow hue of the night lamp casting a glow on her face. "I wouldn't have booked the slot without making your deliveries happen, babe."

"I know, I just like having a plan." So what if your handler tendencies bled over into your regular life, having a plan was never a bad thing.

"You and your lists and schedules…"

"Hey, at least I'm not the one getting lost in a city because I can't read out the itinerary made for me!" It was a bit of a deep cut to bring up something that had occured on vacation years ago, but you couldn't resist teasing her.

And Momo retaliated by doing what Momo did best. When at a loss for a verbal attack, she mercilessly moved her hands up and down your sides, tickling you until your feet kicked and squirmed in the blanket.

She only stopped when you finally cried out for mercy, ceding victory to her if only to be able to breathe properly. Having eventually caught your breath, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to situate your torso over hers and wipe off the smug smile on her face with a deep kiss.

"Goodnight, babe. I love you."

"I love you too. G'night."

True to her word, Momo had done all the dishes last night while you had been in the bath, and walking into a gleaming kitchen almost made you want to get on your knees and sob in relief. You loved baking, but cleaning up after was often the hardest part, something you absolutely had to be particular about no matter how tired you were.

You turned on the coffee machine just as the sounds of Momo rustling around in the sheets reached your ears. You were content to just stay in and share a cup of coffee, enjoying the morning sunlight streaming through the windows onto your kitchen counter. You looked around your carefully curated kitchen, at all the designs you had insisted on, knowing that it would be one of the places you spent the most time in. Your eyes landed on the pile of trinkets in the corner, stubbornly making themselves known in the pristine marble decor of the kitchen.

Despite your hatred of the mismatched colour scheme, that corner held a special place in your heart, after all, it contained all the little things Momo had brought back from her trips around the world. The woman was talented in many areas, but interior design was decidedly not one of them. She would buy whatever she thought looked cute, irrespective of whether it was something that would fit in your kitchen or was needed by you in the first place.

Still, you couldn't bear to hide it away. As your gaze landed on the porcelain soap dish Momo had brought back a few weeks ago, you had to stifle a laugh at the memory of that particular day. All things considered, it wasn't even as horrendous as some of the other things she'd purchased, but her reasoning for buying it was what had you stumped. You remembered her ravenously eating forkfuls of the pie you had made to celebrate her arrival (and the difficult mission you knew she'd undertaken), before she had sprung up from her seat to haphazardly search through her bags.

Having found what she was looking for, she had tossed the dish towards you, and beamed as though expecting praise for her 'thoughtful' purchase. You couldn't lie, the gift had you bewildered for a good couple of minutes as you wracked your brain trying to recall why this dish would be of particular significance to you. Momo had impatiently gestured at you to turn the dish over and "look at the back!", where you found a 'Made in Greece' stamp over the dish. Although that gift had greatly confused you to the extent of looking like the human equivalent of a keyboard smash, it brought a smile to your face knowing that Momo carried your love of Greek myths with her wherever she went.

The subject of your thoughts bounded down the stairs just as you wrapped up that precious memory. Her hair was mussed up from having rolled around in bed, and her bleary eyes indicated that she wasn't fully awake yet. But to you, she had never looked better. You loved Momo like this, all soft and pliant in the morning, making you feel like you were in a never ending Sunday.

You must have taken a second too long to acknowledge her, as she whined at not immediately receiving her good morning kiss. You moved towards her and obliged, before getting a hold of her wrist and gently dragging her off to where your twin coffee mugs stood, ready for a lazy start to your day.

The rest of your day went by similarly in a haze, with you dividing your time between wrapping up your final orders, and making the most of Momo being home. Once the admittedly long and lazy breakfast was over, you enlisted Momo's help in reorganizing your closet, getting rid of items you didn't use anymore. Then, after hastily vacuuming your bedroom, the two of you made a quick lunch of enchiladas (well, you cooked and Momo tried not to get in your way), before settling down on the couch and scrolling through Netflix for a new show to watch.

You sighed contentedly in her hold as Momo, eventually tired of trying to find something new, clicked on the long memorised sitcom favoured by you. As your eyes glazed over the familiar scenes, you lauded your past self for closing off orders even though Valentine's Day was still two days away; you got to make the most of your time while Momo was still home.

By the time the afternoon hues of the sun had started to darken to twilight, you had already finished a season of the show you had put on, as well as two cups of tea and a bowl of popcorn. Deciding to clear up a bit, you turned off the television with a groan of protest from Momo, before eventually tugging her off the couch and upstairs to get ready for your deliveries.

Momo had been right in booking the 8 PM slot for your date, and as you watched her carefully load all the orders into the backseat of your car, a serene feeling washed deep in your bones. All it took really was a four letter word.

Home.

Time.

Love.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Momo asked as you slid into the passenger seat.

You had an absent smile on your face as your fingers drummed against your thighs. "Mm, just thinking of how all it takes is a four letter word."

Momo leaned over, grabbing and fastening your seatbelt for you in a swift motion. "You're thinking of 'sexy', right?" she smirked.

You felt your cheeks being pulled upwards as the absent smile blossomed into a full one. "I was thinking more of 'dork' but okay."

"Nerd."

"Fool."

"Rude."

"Mean."

The two of you traded back and forth before Momo suddenly said, "Y/N".

"Hmm? That's not how—"

"I love you," she giggled. This time it was you who leaned in, pushing forward as much as your seatbelt would allow, and sealed her giggles with a kiss. "Wife," you murmured against her as she pulled you in closer upon hearing that fall from your lips, a revered whisper.

Despite everything in you screaming not to, you eventually pulled yourself away and let Momo start the car. You settled in your seat, putting a hand over your heart to calm it's racing, but to also feel how strongly it beat. For Momo. While the pair of you weren't really convinced by the traditions of Valentine's Day, and scorned at how the town had blown a quarter of its budget on tacky pink and red decorations, you couldn't deny just how full your heart had felt today. How it felt everyday you were by her side.

You had your own traditions with her, of course you did, honed after years of being together, but it all boiled down to one thing, a simple four letter word: Momo.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: happy valentines day y'all, tell people that you love them !!! or don't, or tell them that you hate them lol, idk don't let me tell you how to spend your day :P

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

#a game of hide and seek #mala's collection #sanccharine #indigo's archive #eternallyghosting :]#momo x reader #twice x reader #momo fluff #jype twice #twice imagines #momo imagines

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sanccharine · 11 months

Text

15:47 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo puts a man in his place

warning: use of guns sidenote: we don't know anything about guns,,,and we gave up on researching and being accurate, sorry ;-;

word count: 2.6k

a/n: as promised assassin!momo is here, also this connects to 15:34 (momo finds a gun). additionally, indigo wrote everything, i didn't do jackshit for this part, im just here to post and disappear like avatar aang

masterlist

You were seated on your recliner, taking advantage of the quiet in the house to read one of your all-time favorites, a copy of Metamorphoses you had treasured since you were a teenager, before the silence was disturbed by a beep on your phone.

As you hurried to put your book away, you frowned at your phone screen lit up with a notification from your shared calendar.

This Friday, 5-6 pm. Momo had not added anything more.

Figuring she must have woken from her nap if she was scheduling things, you called out to her.

Silence. Before you could say anything again, you were interrupted by another beep, signaling the change in the time slot from 6-7 pm.

And then another, shifting it back to 5 pm.

You sighed. What was going on?

Deciding you were done with your reading for the time being, you got up to carefully place your book back in its curated spot on your bookshelf before making your way upstairs.

You pushed open the door to your bedroom to find Momo fiddling on her phone in bed, the sheets tangled around her.

“Hey,” you leaned against the doorframe, “what’s this?”

“Hm?” she yawned.

Pointing to your own phone screen, you asked again. “What’s this Friday?”

“Oh!” Momo rubbed the sleep out of her eyes mid-sentence. “It’s for our shooting class.”

“Our what now?” Hearing Momo casually mention shooting came as a surprise to you, no matter the amount of hours you had spent in her earpiece discussing the exact same thing.

“Remember that gun we have in the back of our closet?”

How could you forget? For all its innocence and claims of self-defense, it was a thrilling reminder of what you both faced on the daily. Well, Momo did. Although you supposed sending her out there, day after day, knowing what she was getting herself into put you on the frontline as well.

Yes, you had trained for this, and yes, you had signed the contract agreeing to be the permanent handler of Agent 64, but a hidden part of you would always put up a fight whenever a new mission file came along, wanting nothing more then to go back to when you were just Y/N and she was just Momo.

Seemingly unaware of your inner turmoil, Momo continued, “Well, I have a license, but I think you should also get some practice in. Just in case, you know?”

Just in case.

“A gun date!” You exclaimed, trying to make light of the situation. In all honesty, it had completely slipped your mind, what with unpacking and settling in as well as meeting all your neighbours who insisted on inviting you two over for meals.

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, yes, a gun date, if that makes you feel better.”

Nothing about this situation would, but you would take it. After all, it meant getting to spend more time with Momo. And despite everything you knew about her capabilities and renowned skills, you had yet to see her actually wield a weapon. This could be fun. You wondered if she would actually shoot as she had been trained to, or if she would fumble her shots on purpose.

Her pride wouldn’t let her. You hid a smile as you thought about Momo at the range. Perhaps you would come up with something to bring out her competitive spirit. After all, you had to get your shots in too.

You nodded as you finally stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. “So, Friday then?”

“Yep, I had emailed the closest range the very day we moved in, but they only just got back to me saying they could pencil us in for a slot.”

“Sounds good,” you hummed noncommittally, throwing yourself backward onto the bed. Momo did not seem like she would be getting out of bed anytime soon, and your sleep schedules were messy anyways. Dinner could wait.

Despite your previous reservations (and you wouldn’t say this out loud), you were actually excited to go to the range with Momo.

It had been an easy week for the two of you; having no immediate missions meant Momo could stay around and help you organize the house. It had been weeks since you had moved in, but there was still so much to do. You and Momo had found an easy rhythm of working, wherein you would organize and dictate the layout of the house, while Momo helped build all your furniture. After all, I am good with my hands, she had smirked.

Although the session you had booked was at five, you had to leave much earlier. Curse this town and its lack of accessibility. Although, you mused, that was precisely why you had chosen to relocate here, so you couldn’t really complain.

Momo had volunteered to drive, so you sat back and shuffled around the playlists on your phone as she pulled into the freeway with ease.

You wouldn’t say this out loud either, but you had been thinking of silly bets you could make with Momo to make the shooting session more fun.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll get like, eight bullseyes,” you began confidently.

She kept her eyes steady on the road, but you could see a smirk make its way across her face.

“Pshh, in your dreams.” Her fingers tightened imperceptibly on the steering wheel. Aha, so her competitive spirit had awoken.

“How about… ” you drifted off as if deep in thought, “loser does the dishes for two weeks?”

She shook her head. “Make it three and then it’s worthwhile.”

“How about laundry? Or gardening?” As you continued to think of new ways you could torture her with chores, she suddenly straightened in her seat.

“Loser goes out for dinner with Mr. Jones.”

You shuddered. “Ugh, I wouldn’t want to wish that on you, babe.”

Her smirk never left her face. “You seem pretty confident.”

“Oh, yeah! I told you already, how hard can it be?” You mimicked explosions again, only for Momo to swat your hand away.

“Fine, if you’re so confident, then dinner with Mr. Jones it is,” she said resolutely.

“You’re on.”

Although Momo was a highly sought-after assassin, you were not one to back down from a challenge. Settling further into your leather seat, you spent the rest of the ride jokingly trash-talking her, thinking of gross food combinations that your elderly neighbour would probably have on his dinner table.

As Momo pulled up into the tiny parking lot attached to the gun range, you couldn't stop the restless shaking of your legs. You weren't really worried about handling a gun; despite not being in the field you were confident in your abilities and comfort with a gun. As strange as it sounds, you were nervous about seeing Momo wield one.

Momo sensed your nerves and put a warm palm on your knee, her touch comforting. "Hey, it'll be fine. An instructor will be guiding us."

You managed a shaky smile as she continued, "and after all, it's for self defense, right?"

Right, self defense...

A strange look passed Momo as she said that, one you couldn’t decipher, though it disappeared when she nodded.

Your instructor turned out to be a burly, unsmiling man who made no effort at conversation. You supposed that was just as well, you needed no distractions in the range.

As he talked through the make of the gun, as well as its safety features, both you and Momo tried your hardest to act as if you were paying attention. Chancing a glance at her face, you could see her eyes trained only on the pistol in the instructor's hand. Not because she needed a reminder on how to load a bullet, but because she had already planned out an entire scenario in her head where she would have to face the opposition without having ready weapons. You could see it in the clench of her jaw, her unblinking eyes seemingly boring holes into the unsuspecting pistol.

You turned your attention back to what he was saying, only to catch the tail end of his sentence. "...and make sure you store it in a reclined postion."

Your eyes narrowed. You weren't supposed to store it that way.

Although the instructor was in the wrong you decided to keep quiet and let him finish talking. Momo however, couldn't help herself.

“Storing it that way increases the chances of the bullet getting stuck, potentially backfiring the weapon," she said sharply, her eyes never leaving the gun.

"Um, oh. Well��”

"Do your research before you teach civilians how to fire guns." You winced at her harsh tone.

Although the man towered over the both of you in height, he seemed to shrink a couple inches upon Momo's rebuke, speechless at her interruption.

"Carry on," she waved a dismissive hand when he showed no signs of continuing his lecture.

"Right so um, let's move on to aiming," you tuned out again when you realised these were the extreme basics you'd learnt in your first few days at the academy.

You let your thoughts wander to the period of your youth, undergoing grueling training in similar ranges with your friends. Only then it was a much more serious matter. You sighed. How had it already been so many years since you passed out of the system? Since you moved on and became a handler? Momo’s handler.

You came back to the present as Momo grabbed your arm, leading you to get fitted with a weapon. She seemed very in her element here, which you supposed wasn't too far off from her persona on the field. Although never having seen this in person before, you decided you liked this confident Momo.

Once you had both been fitted with guns, safety goggles, and ear plugs, your instructor led you over to an enclosed room. It was a long hallway, with narrow channels created by glass separations, and targets stuck onto the far wall.

Momo gestured at you to make the first shot, smirking as she did so. Clearly she was enjoying this.

Despite the flutters in your stomach caused by her confident aura, you forced your eyes away from her as you steadied your hand.

Taking the all too familiar shooting stance, you took a deep breath and fired.

A clear hole could be seen on the ring marking a nine. It wasn’t bad, but you were better than this.

Momo raised an eyebrow at you. “Beginner’s luck?”

If only she knew.

You shrugged, signaling her to make the next shot.

She took the same stance you had, the same pose holding the gun aloft, her eyes narrowed on the target the same way yours had. Then why did it look so much cooler?

The sound of a buzzer led to a temporary pause in your admiration of Momo.

You glanced at the target. A bullseye. Of course.

Her cheekbones would surely hurt at night from all the smirking she had been doing. It seemed the smile never left her face as the two of you alternated between rounds. Your instructor, after observing you two for a few shots and coming to the fairly obvious conclusion that you wouldn’t do something stupid like shoot at the ceiling, had left you to your own devices and had wandered over to chat with the employee at the weapons station.

“Alright,” Momo clapped her hands once before extending it, “warmup’s over. Let’s begin the bet, shall we?”

“You’re on.” You solemnly shook her hand, not one to back down from the ridiculous dramatics of the bet.

As she reloaded her pistol, you stood still to take stock of the situation. You had purposefully fumbled a few shots during your warm-up so as to not make your wife suspicious, but could you really risk doing that when the stakes were having dinner with Mr. Jones?

No, you obviously could not.

You’d just have to pretend to be a fast learner. After all, Momo had first-hand observed how you took on new recipes and mastered skills after a few tries. It wouldn’t be too far off to say you were already good at target practice.

You reloaded your own gun and waited for Momo to go first this time, thinking you would continue to alternate shots as you had before. However, you were sorely mistaken.

If you thought Momo had been in her element during the warm-up, this was an all-new, evolved Momo. Her eyes never left the target as she swiftly reloaded her pistol after each shot, her hands a blur from the fast motions. She did not look to see if you were shooting, nor did she wait for you to catch up. She had ten bullets and she made ten bullseyes. The sound of the buzzer was a neverending cacophony of success.

Only after silence had once again settled in the room did she move away from the shooting platform, pushing her goggles up over her forehead.

“Pick your jaw up from the floor, babe, there might be flies around here.” She sauntered over to you, casually holding the gun loose between her slender fingers.

Holy shit. How were you supposed to one up her now?

She must have sensed the resignation on your face, as she moved closer to pat you between your shoulder blades.

“I’m sure dinner won’t be that bad,” she said with a teasing grin.

You rolled your eyes at her before focusing on the gun in your hand, steadying yourself once again before letting the bullets fly.

To your credit, you were really good. For someone who had not been active in the field for many years, you did not disappoint on your top-of-the-year status. However, Hirai Momo was simply better. Eight bullseyes and two 9s when you had briefly hesitated in the beginning could not compare to her perfect score.

As you turned away from the sound of the buzzer and made your way over to her dejectedly, you were surprised to find a pair of arms encircling your shoulders. You looked up and found a gleam in her eyes. She was happy, not just from winning the bet, you realised, but because she was able to share a part of her daily life with you, even just for a few hours.

At that, the anxiety over the impending dinner plans faded away. This was what you had been wanting too. Sharing a home and a bed with her was absolutely perfect, but the joy at being able to share an aspect of her life while being civilians was more than you could have thought of. Before the embarrassment at this public display of affection could draw her away from you, you pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

That wasn’t good enough for Momo.

“You’re pretty good with a gun, you know,” Momo hummed out before she pressed a kiss to your lips. She pulled back just enough that your noses were still touching, her eyes wide and searching.

“Like you said,” your voice was soft. “Beginner’s luck.”

“What if I take some food over to his house?”

“Absolutely not! You have to eat the dinner he makes.”

The two of you bickered over the loopholes of the bet while returning your equipment, and all the way till you were back in the car.

As you fastened your seatbelt, you felt Momo gently touch your palm to get your attention.

She looked strangely nervous and didn’t fully meet your eye, “I just wanted to say, you did really well back there. Seriously.”

There was that strange emotion again. It wasn’t something you understood, but you had the urge to divert away.

“Enough to get me out of dinner?” you asked cheekily.

She groaned. “Don’t start with this again!”

Her eyes softened as she fully turned to look at you. “I’m proud of you though.”

You mirrored her position on the seat as you smiled at her. “Self defense, am I right?”

“Yeah, self defense.”

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: ^shower indigo with love and praise otherwise i will fucking come for you, i am in your walls. okay, im done with threats now, have a good day/night everyone :]

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

#a game of hide and seek #mala's collection #sanccharine #indigo's archive #eternallyghosting :]#momo x reader #twice x reader #momo fluff #jype twice #twice imagines #momo imagines

71 notes · View notes

sanccharine · 1 year

Text

15:34 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo finds a gun

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

Marriage was a huge step. Despite all you had been through in your life, it would not be an understatement to say this was the biggest decision you had made.

To upend everything and leave the tiny one-bedroom home you’d known all your adult life was a huge step.

Concluding this trifecta of huge steps, there was also the fact that you were now the permanent handler for Agent 64.

But that was great, wasn’t it? Having a permanent job meant a permanent salary, which was what had led you to make the decision to move houses.

Well… except, Agent 64 was none other than your wife.

You didn't know if you should be thanking the universe or questioning it. On one hand, you got to work with her every day, and no one knew her better than you did. On the other, would you have it in you to knowingly send her on missions? There was a lot to unpack, metaphorically and literally too, as you stared at your stacked cardboard boxes.

It was just so many phases of your life that seemed to change in an instant and all at the same time. At least, you weren’t alone.

Momo called your name from somewhere deep in the house. After what seemed like endless months of house hunting, the pair of you had finally settled on a villa in a small town. After all, your requirements for buying a house were different from most ordinary people; you needed a place secure enough to ensure utmost safety for you and Momo, but also somewhere unostentatious so as to not raise any suspicion. Hence, the modest villa in the middle of nowhere.

You still hadn’t figured out the layout of this villa. That will need to be amended.

Wearing a warm smile, you thanked the kind neighbour who had brought meatloaf. Hopefully, your smile was believable. You were tired and you were busy. You didn’t have the heart to ask—Mr Jones, he said his name was—what meatloaf even was and whether you could even eat it. No matter what, you knew for certain Momo would gag and refuse to.

You closed the front door and made your way to your kitchen to drop off the welcome gift. Your house was a mess of moving-in boxes and plastic-wrapped furniture, a layer of dust coating everything.

It was going to be a while before everything looked and felt like a proper home.

Momo called your name again.

Dusting your hands off on your pants, you made your way upstairs.

“Where are you?” you called out, hoping for a clue that would make it easier to navigate.

“I’m in the master bedroom.”

Well, that was easy enough. That was the door at the very end. Also, the only one that was completely ajar.

You entered the room to a funny sight.

Momo stood by the foot of your bed frame, the luggage she’d packed all by herself strewn open by her feet. Her hands were on her hips and her head tilted to the right. She wore a pensive look as she stared at the closet. Suppressing a giggle, you moved towards her while folding your arms.

“I feel like we should talk about this,” Momo said, unnecessarily serious.

“Talk about what? Who gets more closet space—?”

“No, the gun.”

“Wait, gun?” your smile dropped with your hands as you turned to look in the closet.

And there it was, a standard pistol. There was no real flare to it, yet it sat as if it were a stolen treasure at a museum. The gun was the only thing placed in the closet, enclosed in a stark white space, angled diagonally.

You frowned, this had not been mentioned in the inventory.

“We have a gun?”

“We have a gun,” Momo nodded, her eyes not leaving the gun for even a single second.

You turned to look at Momo and then back to the gun. There was no engraving on the side, no code, no sticker, and no marking at all to identify this gun. You itched to get your hands on it, to make sure you weren’t missing anything though you doubted that would be inconspicuous.

This was not from your organization.

“No, no,” you said slowly. “Momo, you have a gun.”

Momo finally turned to look at you.

She stared at you.

You stared back at her.

“Momo, why do you think we need a gun?” you asked with the same energy you’d use to coax a rabid coyote on the street.

“Uh… protection?”

“Do you have a license to own that gun?”

“I have a license.” You figured as much.

“Are you trained to use that gun?” That was a stupid question.

“Uh,” Momo dragged out the word. She either tried to pretend to be flustered or actually was with your line of questioning. “Yeah, I’m trained.”

“Do you think you could kill a person?”

Momo’s face paled.

Now, you were just fucking with her.

“Uh… Um, yeah, I think I could, sure,” Momo looked anywhere but at you. “Like, I mean, like, in self-defense? Protection, you know. Probably could.”

“Okay, cool,” you couldn’t help but smile at Momo’s fumbling. “You have a gun to protect us.”

“Yeah, no, hmm…” Momo hummed, scratching the back of her head. “We have a gun. It's for our protection. It’s our gun. You know, for both of us?”

The emphasis on sharing the gun didn’t fly over your head, but it was still confusing. You just waited for Momo to get to the point herself.

“Do you know—”

“How to kill a person?” you blurted.

Momo bristled. “No, what? No!” She visibly shuddered at how nonchalantly you asked that.

Was Momo a good actor? Or was she just terrified of you seeing the other side of her?

Well, you knew the answer to the former. The latter had to be true. Her sentiment was sweet.

“I was going to ask if you know how to shoot a gun?”

“I mean it can't be that difficult to figure out, right?” you smirked with a shrug. Momo was not comfortable at the sight. “Point and pull the trigger, right? I think I can do that.”

For good measure, you raised your hand to draw a finger gun and pointed at her.

“Pew, pew and,” you blew raspberries while gesturing an explosion by your head. “Headshot.”

Momo was absolutely horrified. Having joined your organization first as a freelance agent before being moved up to be permanent, she had no idea that you were one of the best marksmen your unit had seen.

“Okay, I’m signing us up for a gun training class.”

“Oh, come on, I was joking!” Momo had already pulled out her phone, looking for classes. “I doubt we'll even use it!”

“You don’t know that.”

Well, actually, you did know that. In fact, it was your job.

It was Momo’s as well, but she had a ruse to keep up.

“Gun shooting date, can’t wait!” Momo only sent you a look. “What? I’m serious!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, no, actually, I am very serious about this,” you sighed. “Thanks for bringing this up, Momo. It’s important.”

It really was.

With a nod, Momo pocketed her phone and returned to the pose you found her in. Hands at her hips, head tilted and eyes dead focused on the gun. “So we have a gun.”

“We have a gun,” you agreed.

Let’s hope we never have to use it.

any feedback is much appreciated.

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#a game of hide and seek #mala's collection #sanccharine #indigo's archive #eternallyghosting :]#momo x reader #twice x reader #momo fluff #jype twice #twice imagines #momo imagines

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sanccharine · 7 months

Note

gay

great deductive skills

#mala's asks #eternallyghosting :]#indigo :]

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sanccharine · 7 months

Note

this slays, i can't wait for all the upcoming angst ha ha ha

lol that is if i write it

#uni this year is going to be rough ha ha ha #mala's asks #eternallyghosting :]#indigo :]

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sanccharine · 1 year

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hey mr. co-author, so when we co-authoring again ?

not you coming here to ask, go to sleep !!!

#mala’s asks #indigo :]#eternallyghosting :]

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sanccharine · 1 year

Note

What has been the most fulfilling and/or enriching part about this account?

(also 300 ! whoo <3)

thanks for asking, this is a great question !! now point where it is on the ask post *stands with hands on hips like a dad*

but in all seriousness, the most fulfilling has to be meeting and talking to new people, and making friends. even if it is just screaming in the tags, the interactions are so fun. the friends i've made are probably why im still here ngl

and im sure you can understand, we've had so much fun with agohas it is kind of insane HFKJSDHK

#not you asking your own question #and it isnt even about a fic #breaking all the rules #such a rebel wowowow #mala's asks #eternallyghosting :]#indigo :]#300 followers milestone !!!#ask games

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sanccharine · 1 year

Note

number 15 for burning pile

if your answer isn't learning how cool and funny i am, then don't answer 🤠

15. What did you learn from writing this fic?

i learned i really like writing bloody angsty shit more than domestic fluff/comfort. i also learned people don't appreciate our alternative summaries ;-;

no it wasn't learning about how cool and funny you are, please stop embarrassing yourself

send me asks !

#mala's asks #eternallyghosting :]#indigo :]#300 followers milestone !!!#ask games

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sanccharine · 1 year

Note

Number 11 for hufflepuff!tzu

(he isn't even there yet ;-;)

11. What do you like best about this fic?

honestly im blanking,,,hmm probably the dynamics/friendships between characters, especially the slytherin quidditch team for this fic in particular.

(he'll be there very soon, but i feel like hes funnier in my head than what i will write, i'll need your advice)

send me asks !

#mala's asks #eternallyghosting :]#indigo :]#300 followers milestone !!!#ask games

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sanccharine · 2 years

Note

last waltz go

omg so true, you got it <3

i love you, now say it back 🤺🤺

#i said say it back !#mala's asks #eternallyghosting :]

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sanccharine · 3 months

Note

im bored and i miss momo ;-;

huh im just seeing this now ?

im exhausted and i also miss momo, twins <3

#when did you even send this #mala's asks #indigo :]#eternallyghosting :]

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sanccharine · 9 months

Text

blueberry muffins | sn

single parent au, christmas au

pairing: babysitter!sana x single parent!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7.2k

warning: so sweet it'll rot your teeth ! ew that ryhmed, i'm sorry

summary: when your own life becomes a b-rated hallmark holiday movie (not that you're complaining)

a/n: finally, what was supposed to be last year's christmas fic and the sequel to pizza party! is here !! all thanks to this request !! this was co-written by @eternallyghosting (she wrote three (very important) sentences and the summary, which is easily the hardest part of writing fics) strangely, it was nice writing domestic fluff again and also i gave up on the banner :D also is this happy belated christmas bc this was for last year or is it early bc christmas is in five days ?? anygays, happy holidays !!

The moment the car stopped, a door was being shoved open. You didn’t have to check the rearview mirror to know that your son had sprinted out. Shaking your head, you shifted the gear to park before turning your gaze at your girlfriend.

Minatozaki Sana was a confident woman. Or at least that is what you’ve gathered over the last year. She was never one to hide how she felt; it was she who had made the first move. So to see her eyes glazed over, trained on the raindrops collecting at the edge of the windshield was concerning, to say the least.

“Hey,” was all you uttered, even quiet to your own ears. But Sana was attuned to your voice so she straightened before she turned to meet your gaze.

In the many years that make up a life, a year may be inconsequential. Between those three hundred and sixty-five days many things can happen. You can meet new people, spend time with them and get to really know their likes and dislikes, understand what truly makes and motivates them. During this time, you could gain lifelong friends, whom you instantly sync with only to lose them by the end of the year. Twelve months is enough time to drive you away from your family, to uproot your life and start anew, or perhaps return home to loving arms where everything remains unchanged. A year is a million moments of frustration and tears and happiness, a combination of beginning and endings, and gain and loss. But many years later, those instances would be fleeting at best.

A whole year; a passing moment.

Perhaps that’s why you were pleasantly surprised with how well things were with Sana. Having known each other for almost two years, from kind greetings building up to genuine conversations. The slow build of your relationship, from when you first asked her about her bad day to when she finally asked you out for a coffee date. There was not a moment you regretted, and to think that this was all the result of your son, the last shove the pair of you needed.

Now Sana has moved in, you wake up to her running around your home alongside your son. She’d gone from his babysitter to someone who takes an active role in his life, someone who shapes him to be better. Someone he can learn from, grow with, and rely on, especially when you weren’t there for him.

Simply put, you couldn't be more sure of your decision to be with her. Now, there were only a few more steps.

Without saying a word, you reached for her hand, her fingers interlocking with yours instinctively. “I’m not worried, I just need a moment,” Sana said, the frozen glaze slowly dissipating from her eyes.

Exhaling, you reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Silky soft to the touch, even with her constant dyeing. How she managed to maintain the texture remained a mystery. From her natural brown to blinding orange to auburn to back to her brown, you’ve seen Sana’s hair shift faster than the seasons. Though in the dark of the night, your car was only illuminated by the lamppost a meter away, her hair seemed so depthless it was inky black.

Sana leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as you held her. Just as you were about to assure her, a loud thump on the glass startled you both apart.

“Aren’t you coming?” Your son asked loudly, though it sounded muffled since he had the side of his face and palms pressed flat against the glass. With another slap to the glass, he moved away but not before saying. “Open the trunk, I need to show grandma my chef’s hat and cookbook.”

Sana had gone from clutching her heart to clutching her stomach as she doubled over with laughter. You, on the other hand, had to rest your forehead on the steering wheel to let out a long and exaggerated groan.

“He will be the—”

Your son hit the car twice, yelling. “Trunk, please!”

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it! It’s opening,” you stumbled to find the button. With a huff, you took out your car keys while Sana was still giggling as she got out to help with the suitcase.

Your son had catapulted himself into your father’s arms as you headed up the porch, luggage in hand. Sana followed behind you, not necessarily hiding, but slightly obscuring herself from your parents. Smiling, you extended your free hand to take hers as you reached the door.

“Oh, look who’s home!” your father exclaimed, as he swiftly lifted your son up and placed him on his hip.

“Don’t do that! Who’s going to pay for another surgery?” you said, scowling while your mother slapped at his arm, trying to pry your son away.

“With all that hard work, it will be you, of course,” your father said, before whispering at your son who then burst into giggles after peeking at you.

“Well, if it's all the same, help me out with our bags—”

“Not happening,” your father said before walking into the house.

“Here, let me,” your mother passed right by you and attempted to take the bag Sana was shouldering. Sana tried to decline politely, but your mother wasn’t having it. Soon the bag was in her hands and she took Sana’s hand in hers. Your mother gave you a smile as she guided Sana into the house. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know, Mom,” you groaned, the smile hard to suppress.

Home felt familiar. There was a smell, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Of course, there were notes you recognised. A blend of your mother’s baking and your father’s obnoxious perfumes against the smell of rain. Something you’ve experienced so many times before and have long yearned to return to. As for furniture, nothing seemed to have changed. You spotted a few new frames, photos of your son now competing with numerous photos of yourself. Then one that really stopped you in your tracks.

Your mother, artistic in all of her endeavours, had a growing collage of her favourite photos on a pinboard. You don’t come home often to notice all the small edits she makes, but this one was glaringly obvious. It was a picture that was clearly printed out recently. On normal paper it seemed, it lacked the gloss. It was cut to the shape of the three people in the photo, bordered with orange craft paper and stuck on at the very edge of the board.

It was a picture of you, your son… and Sana.

One night, when Sana decided it was time for her classic bright orange to return, she asked whether you wanted to dye your hair as well.

Of course, in an instant, you answered no. Unfortunately, your son had overheard the question and practically begged you to let him dye his hair. So that night, both you and your son earned a few strands of orange hair that matched Sana.

Almost on instinct, your hand drifted to the spot behind your neck, hiding a few stray strands of fading bright orange hair. When you had sent the image to your mother, you’d laughed at it because your face was barely in it to your mother’s disappointment. In fact, you were showing your back and looking over your shoulder so the orange was peeking through. Sana wore a blinding grin that also matched your son’s, who was pointing at the streak of orange in his fringe. But here it was, printed and cut out and pasted.

The sight invoked a feeling you couldn’t place.

Someone stepped to your right to observe the same picture.

And then Sana turned to look at you, her eyes glassy.

Even if it wasn’t said, you know what this means.

The words were in your mouth when your mother spoke from your left. “I hope you don’t mind me putting up that picture there,” she said with scrunched eyebrows. “I really liked it.”

Sana’s lips twitched upward as she shook her head. “I don’t mind at all.”

Introductions were quite brief, having heard each other quite a bit from you. Besides, you knew once your son tired himself out and was asleep, your parents could really get to know Sana. So, you decided to move your bags up to your scheduled room.

Unfortunately for you, Sana stopped by another door.

Gasping, Sana pushed the door open and took in every corner of your childhood room.

The room was exactly as you left it. Except less messy. No furniture was moved, no posters torn down, no trinkets replaced—it was as if you had never even left.

Sana moved to your study desk, her finger brushing the spines of textbooks that had made your high school years a living hell.

“Did you study a lot?” Sana asked, her voice light as if she were absent-minded.

“Not really, just enough to pass I guess,” Sana sent you a look over her shoulder, head slightly tilted in suspicion before turning her attention back to the desk.

She poked the trophies and participation awards, smiling at your photos crammed to a side before picking one up.

“Someone looks awfully upset here,” she brandished a photo of you standing on a podium, glaring holes at the person in front of you while you gripped your smaller award. “Sore loser much?”

“I deserved first place! You weren’t there, alright?” you rolled your eyes, plucking the photo away from her while she moved towards your bed.

“I can’t imagine you’d ever have such a tidy room,” she chuckled as she took a seat by the foot of the bed, bouncing a little on the comfortable mattress.

“Yeah, well, you have my mother to thank for that,” you smiled, as you leaned on your desk, facing Sana. Watching her.

Perhaps, it was nostalgia. Or exhaustion. Who knows, maybe even the holiday spirit. But you liked staying here, being in your old room, surrounded by things you’ve long forgotten, from a time you don’t particularly miss, but now, with Sana. Someone who promised a new start.

Sana watched you in turn, her lips pressed thin as she suppressed a knowing smile.

Leaning back, she asked. “So, is this where we’ll be sleeping? In your old room?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Not a chance,” you jutted your chin at the single bed, “you feel like being crammed into that?”

Sana shook her head as she turned around to feel the quilt, lips quirked up at the shark pattern.

“No, we’re taking the guest room,” you said, walking to your door. From here, you could just about see over the stairway railing and into the kitchen. Both your parents buzzed around your son like moths to a flame, grins on all of their faces. With a soft sigh, you said. “The one that will be coddled, pampered, and spoiled for the next week will be sleeping in here.”

Content for the moment, you turned your attention back to Sana but she was already looking at you. An expression akin to worry was on her features.

“They’ll like me right?”

Sana closed in on herself, hands dragging down the quilt to feel it one more time before folding in front of her stomach. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on you. You hated seeing Sana like this.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” you pushed away from your place at the door and took Sana’s face in your hands, helping her to look up at you. “They’ll love you.”

You leaned down, your nose brushing against hers as a chuckle escaped her.

“Just like you do,” she giggled cheekily.

You kissed her to stop her teasing.

“Hmm, sure,” but still, you admitted. “Just like I do.”

Once your son had tired himself out and you had unpacked your things, you decided it was time to put him to bed. With his blue set of pyjamas that matched your ancient shark-patterned bed sheets, he clambered and got under the sheets, tucking himself in neatly. You took a seat by him on the bed, hand reaching out to comb his unruly hair out of his face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, a bit slowly.

“Good,” your son admitted, “it’s nice to see grandma and grandpa again.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed.

You wished you could visit home often, a long drive or not, it wasn’t too hard to come back home. However, work dragged you away and you didn’t even have time to consider a plan for the weekend. Even now, your ‘long’ weekend as an excuse for a holiday was extended into a week of freedom after you’d lined up your leave days and practically begged for the holidays. There was no shame in it, the end of this year was important. There were big changes ahead.

“Good,” you parroted.

“Grandma loved my hat and said we can bake some treats from the cookbook,” he exclaimed. You nodded as he continued. “I asked her if we could make a cake—a blue one!—like Percy!”

“Like Percy,” you scoffed as you completed the sentence with him.

“She said she knows a trick so the food doesn’t come out green,” he added and you didn’t doubt him.

Ever since his class was given free rein over the library, your son has been reading quite a lot. On top of his fascination with cooking, of course. This was the longest he’s stuck with a hobby or interest, and reading that his favourite character managed to eat special blue food, catered to him by his loving mother, only spurred your son more to mimic it.

With your help, and Sana’s… mostly Sana’s, your son has mastered green pastries, desserts and sweets. Or ogre food, as you lovingly call it. For reasons that you couldn’t guess, no dye seemed to do the trick, perhaps you were buying cheap brands?

“Yeah, I’m sure she does,” you rolled your eyes before pinching his nose, at which he swatted your hand away.

“So which book are we reading tonight?” Sana asked, walking into your childhood home with a book in her hand. You could guess which one it was.

“The Lightning Thief!” your son squealed when Sana held the book up.

“Don’t you get tired of reading the same one again and again?” you asked, watching Sana as she took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Nope!” your son said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay, but aren’t you curious about what happens next—?”

“Oh, don’t start this again,” Sana said, as she conspirately shook her head with your son, clearly over your grumbling.

“I’m just saying—!”

“Oh look at the time,” your son pulled up his empty wrist. “It’s bedtime, we only have time to read a few pages, let's get started!”

Scowling, you pinched your son’s cheek and he had the audacity to giggle.

Sana had started reading the chapter you’d stopped on. Her voice was soothing to listen to, even if the story wasn’t too uplifting. Getting comfortable, you curled up next to your son over his quilt and watched his drooping eyes struggle to stay open.

As Sana finished the chapter, she glanced over. A smile tugged on her lips when she found that your son was deep asleep.

With a nod, you kissed him on the forehead and made sure he was comfortable. Following suit, Sana placed a kiss of her own on his temple. The pair of you exited the room on your tiptoes and slowly closed the door behind you.

“I’ll take the book back,” you said, extending your hand out.

Instead, Sana placed a kiss on your cheek, her eyes lidded.

“What was that for?” you asked, surprised but you weren’t complaining.

“Just because,” she shrugged and then handed the book over to you.

“Are you stalling seeing my parents?” you asked with a smirk as your hand came to rest by her neck, your thumb tipping her jaw to face you.

“Not at all,” Sana said with such conviction that if you didn’t know her better, you’d have believed her.

“They won’t take much time, I won’t let them interrogate you. I can tell them we’re tired and we need rest,” you said tilting your head to the side. “Which we do, honestly.”

Sana nodded with a sigh, her eyes shuttered close as she leaned into the warmth of your palm.

You pulled yourself in for a kiss, a gentle one, on her lips. Sana hummed before pushing away.

“I’ll see you in a second,” you whispered. “You got this.”

She nodded and turned towards the stairs. You waited till she reached the bottom of the stairs before making your way to the guest room. Staying for such a short time, there was no need to unpack completely, and for that, you were slightly grateful. That meant you could hide things without anyone being the wiser.

Dropping the book down on the open suitcase, you kneeled to rummage through the clothes. Making sure to lift layers of clothes as it is, you find a small velvet box at the very bottom. The sight of it brought a smile to your face. It can only mean so many things, though you still have some things to complete.

Leaving it in the same room would be a gamble. The guest room was basically empty, anyone would be able to find it. Every other room in this house had someone staying in it or had them frequent it often. Anything moved out of its place would ring the alarm bells, no, you needed to hide this somewhere no one was likely to check.

So you walked back to your childhood room and entered as quietly as you could. Your son was sound asleep. The left door on your cupboard creaked when it opened, but if you applied pressure on the hinges as you opened, it made barely any sound. Locating the bottommost drawer, you pulled up your old clothes and shoved the box at the very back before hiding it under the clothes.

Happy with your task, you exited the room just as stealthily and made your way down to join your family as if nothing were amiss.

Even with the help of your mother, it seems your son had difficulty mastering blue food.

Somehow your mother managed to convince your son from an elaborate tiered cake to a classic sponge cake to plain old blueberry muffins. You’d hoped that maybe you could escape for the day, maybe with Sana, around your old neighbourhood. Unfortunately, you’d been roped in as assistant chefs and taste-testers instead.

Seated on the couch, you watched three of the most important people in your family take a crack at making blueberry muffins which were actually blue in colour. Sana had been assigned mixing duty, which made no sense to you because you knew for a fact your mother had an ancient stand mixer lying around somewhere in the house. Though Sana didn’t seem to share your sense of justice as she was happy to do so.

Your mother was taking her time going through the recipe book and teaching your son her own techniques. The sight helped you recall some of your own moments under her wing in the kitchen, though you were neither as interested nor skilled to be there. Oh but your son, he was completely enraptured. You’ve never seen him in school and struggled to attend parent-teacher meetings, but you guessed this is how he was in class as well. The swell of pride on your chest was an indescribable feeling.

When Sana said that the batter was ready, your head perked up. Leaving your place on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen. Making sure your mother and son were distracted by the oven, you moved behind Sana. You had to be quick!

Rounding one hand on her waist, you placed your chin over her shoulder and at that, she chuckled while snuggling into your side. And then, you struck.

Your free hand’s index finger dipped into the bowl to carry a dollop of aqua-blue batter straight into your mouth.

By the time Sana had realized what you’d just done, you were already out of her reach. Her indignant shriek altered the other two chefs of your crime, though even they couldn’t do much now.

When the muffins had been completed, you were surprised to see they were properly blue. Not some horrid inedible shade of green.

Your first question after inhaling a few muffins alongside your father was to your mother.

“How did you get them so blue?” you asked, staring at the dishes in the sink, looking as if a smurf had been murdered. “We never managed.”

“Well, depends if you bothered to buy the brand I told you to,” your mother showed an empty tube on the counter and you rolled your eyes at the dig.

“I did buy that brand!” you said, moving to pick up and examine the tube… only to find two more tubes hidden, flattened beyond recognition.

“Well, then it depends on quantity,” your mother said as you turned on the balls of your feet, incredulous.

“Is this much dye even healthy?” you asked, already reading the ingredients on the tube.

“Guess we’ll find out,” your mother only shrugged as she looked at her husband, still scarfing down the muffins. You sent your mother another incredulous look but she just laughed at her own silly joke.

As the holiday came to an end, you finally got your chance to spend some time alone with Sana.

Your father claimed he barely got any time to spend with his grandson. Of course, that was a complete lie. With how much time and money he spent, you’d even debated getting your son a gift at all. Though that was out of the question, you and Sana had already set your mind on what it was and had it ordered beforehand. You just had to go collect it.

So your father said he’d take you all to the park. Once there, you let them go their own way. One moment, your son was accompanying your father and the next he was running at the nearest dog, eager to pet it.

Holding hands, you and Sana watched as you made your way through the park. With every step, you were getting further away until you could see your son no more. Suddenly, the velvet box in your jacket pocket weighed you down, as if it had materialized into your jacket out of thin air.

“Not going to lie,” Sana started, “I thought you’d show me more of your old home.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, something like your old friends? Your old school? Old hang-out spots?” Sana drew on. “Maybe how that high school enemy of yours and how they work at a general store, having never escaped this small town?”

“I don’t know what winter budget film you watched, but that’s not happening here,” you rolled your eyes at her imagination. “Also, what enemy?”

“The first-place winner,” Sana said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh please, I’m not that petty to be thinking about something that happened so long ago,” Sana watched you intently, nodding along almost in a mocking manner. “And besides, they’re a professor at the university across the city, I believe.”

Sana’s grin widened as you just realised what you admitted.

“I wasn’t keeping tabs on them! I just saw a post of theirs recently, alright!” you cried, though it fell on deaf ears.

The most important thing to come out of the walk was your destination. To and back, it was mostly filled with Sana’s inane questions (filled with imaginative scenarios to paint you as some egregious husk of a human, might you add) and you answering them with proper facts and maybe some anecdotes. Sana stopped by the crafts store to collect wrapping paper while you collected your son’s gift.

It was the following series of his favourite books; Heroes of Olympus.

Yes, he has yet to finish the last two books of the current series. And yes, you’d only just berated (teased) him about rereading the first book. But you could just imagine how his face would light up when he sees these books. In fact… you don’t even know if you’ll be reading these books to him by the time he gets to them, which was strange to think about but really, there wasn’t a better gift for your son.

When you arrived back home, your son was taking a nap on the couch, which made it all the more easier to wrap the present for him and get dinner ready.

When your son woke up the table was already set and the first thing he did was take his seat. All eyes were on him, everyone was wearing smiles watching him practically bounce on his seat. He gets to have his dinner, the muffins that he made, and then open his gifts early. Your father, chuckling, ruffled his hair and took a seat beside him.

Dinner, for the most part, was uneventful as usual. That's not to say you didn’t have any fun. You did, you really did. As you ate your meal, you took a backseat in the conversation, observing just how comfortable Sana was alongside your family. She had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your parents adored her. Almost as much as how much you and your son did.

“So when is it?” your father’s question filtered in and you looked away from your nearly clean plate.

“When is what?” you asked before taking your final bite.

“I asked when are you two getting married?”

Sana had to rub your back so you didn’t choke on your food, or worse, spit it across the table.

“What?” you tip a sip of water. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a valid question, really,” your mother admitted, not really looking at you, but you could see the smile toying at the edge of her lips.

“Yeah, when is it happening?” your son looked up at you, eyes wide and shiny.

“Um…” you turned to Sana for some help. Instead, she took her hand from your back and placed her chin on it, leaning in and expecting your answer as well.

The velvet box seemed to burn in your jacket pocket.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of that dreadful situation.

Once the plates were cleared and blueberry muffins disappeared. It was time for presents.

As if aware of what he might get, your son gravitated toward the large box set you’d gotten. And you were right.

Nothing could compare to the expression on his face when he realized what he’d gotten.

Without hesitation, he jumped into your arms and thanked you a thousand times. You reminded him that Sana had pitched in as well and he was flying at her to give her the same treatment.

Perhaps, you were petty.

Because you took pride that no other gift earned the same amount of excitement.

The night settled down and your family received one last gift from your mother.

When all of you were out, she’d tidied up the backyard and made hot chocolate.

All throughout this holiday, every moment seemed to be building up to this one.

Under the twinkling fairy lights, you joined your son on the steps to the backyard. He was sitting with his knees up, his hands toying with a small figurine of Poseidon. Sana had bought it for him the moment she laid eyes on it, having thrifted it from some store, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Seeming to be in deep thought, your son watched the sight before him. With steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands, your parents conversed with Sana. You didn’t know what she said, but it had your father throwing his head back and letting loose a loud snort. Your mother’s eyes crinkled in amusement as she flitted her attention back and forth between them.

Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “Your hot chocolate is turning into cold chocolate, you know.”

You were sure that comment would earn a look from him, but instead, your son moved a hand towards his cup, the figurine still in the other. He sighed and brought the cup to his mouth anyway. But before he could take a sip, you switched out his for your own cup.

“Here, have mine,” you said, carefully placing the warm cup in his hands.

Your son mumbled his thanks and sipped the drink silently, his eyes back on Sana. There was something he wanted to say. You had something you wanted to ask him too. But you decided to wait him out, let him come to you first because you surmised both of you wanted to discuss the same thing.

And so for a moment, on Christmas day, you sat in silence with your son, on the steps to your childhood backyard, sipping warm (and yours, cold) chocolate.

When he was done halfway with his hot chocolate, he placed the cup back down. You followed him. His hands were fidgeting with the figurine again, spinning it round and round, only stopping from time to time to run his index finger over the trident.

“Grandpa was right, you know,” you’ve never heard your son’s voice so small. Wavering, as if he were confused, nervous even. “Why haven’t you asked Sana to marry you?”

He paused to bite his lip while his eyes flitted to the figurine, thumb caressing the figurine’s armour.

“Is it because of me?” he asked. The utterance is almost like an exhale, light but onerous.

It would be so easy to provide empty consolation, that no, it wasn’t anything to do with him. But he knows you too well for that to pass, he’d see right through your attempt. Your son is already quite wise beyond his years, especially at the most inopportune times for you, and was only getting older. For as long as you can remember, it's only ever been the two of you.

Your dates, however rare, come and go. His babysitters, much to his distaste in the beginning, come and go. Having a partner at the start seemed so important, if not to share the burden of caring for a child, then to at least have another figure for your son to look up to. And when you questioned that sort of thinking, you’d figured that all that really mattered was that you were there for your son. With little time as you did have with him in your day, you fought to make time for him. You hadn’t even entertained the idea, that perhaps, you’d date just for yourself. When it came to your son or some romantic dalliance that would never amount to anything real, the choice was easy.

Because at the end of the day, it's only ever been the two of you.

But all of that changed when Sana arrived at your doorstep.

You doubted that neither of you, all three of you even, expected this outcome.

So you understood where your son was coming from, asking this question.

And you decided to be honest with your son, as you always have.

“Yes, in a way.”

Finally, your son turned his full attention to you. His hands were still holding the figurine, but they weren’t fidgeting anymore.

You also turned to face him.

Round eyes had turned sharp, searching for something. Yet his face was a little less expressive, more difficult to read. There were lines of worry decorating his forehead, he seemed older. He’s always by your side, it’s so easy to miss. But this close, on this night, it was obvious. He had grown up.

“Before I asked her, I wanted to ask you,” you confessed. The velvet box that was previously hidden underneath your old clothes in the third drawer of your cupboard was now heavy in your pocket. Your son tilted his head in question. “For as long as I can remember, it has been just you and me.”

You sighed. These words were harder to get out than you’d expected.

“I know you like Sana, and I know she already stays with us, and I know you know how much I love her,” the corner of your son’s lips twitched up a bit. “But there’s a difference between being together and being married. I think it’s a big step. And I don’t want to take that step with your blessing.”

It only took your son a fraction of a second to react. He nodded, eager to say yes.

“Of course, I want this for you,” he said, grinning. “She makes you happy. You make her happy too. And that makes me happy!”

And he was back.

He was giggling to himself as he poked your side with a finger. You rolled your eyes as you tried to brave the tickling sensation.

“But seriously, I want this,” he nodded before turning his attention back to his cup of hot chocolate. He was going to take a sip, but stopped and looked at you. “And… and thanks for asking me.”

“Of course,” was all you could say as both of you went to take a sip from your mugs.

“Ugh!” your son let out an ugly bleh! and frowned. Your parents and Sana turned to look over at you. “This is so cold! Is yours too?”

Your mother chuckled and nodded. From across the yard, she asked. “Shall we go heat them up?”

“Yes, please!” your son stood up and pocketed his figurine. He extended a hand for your cup as well. When you gave it up, he whispered conspiraterly before your mother could whisk him away. “Good luck! You got this!”

And then with a giggle, he’d skipped off into the house.

Your mother stopped at the steps just as you got up and dusted yourself up.

“What were you two whispering about?” she asked with an uptick of her brow as if she hadn’t had her guesses. You shrugged.

“What were you laughing about?” you asked. Your mother glanced back at your father and Sana, then back to you. She shrugged.

“Okay, be like that then,” you said and your mother only chuckled.

Then, she turned back again and called out to your father. “Did you take your tablets?”

“Shit, no!” your father excused himself and rushed over.

“Language!” your mother said as your father zoomed past, though he was more hobbling. Then your mother looked back at you. “She’ll say yes.”

And with that, she followed your father in and closed the balcony door to shut away the cold air.

You turned to Sana. She was already looking at you.

Without a mug, she had nothing to fidget with, so she had her hands steepled in front of her stomach. Her eyes were wide, expectant, as you made your way over.

“Hey,” you said, both your hands finding their place in your pockets. Of course, it was only a front to find the box they were hiding.

“Hi,” she said, the corner of her lips twitching up.

There was nothing left to do. Nothing more you were so sure of.

So instead of stuffing up the moment with unprepared words and emotion, you pulled out the box.

Sana didn’t gasp or squeal or tear up. She just raised her steepled hands to her lips, her cheeks pushed up so high, elated crinkles forming beside her eyes.

You weren't a grand person either. No big dinner, no big celebration, no build-up. You’d considered it, you really had, merely for the sake of Sana. But everything else just felt so unlike you, well, unlike the pair of you. Your start had been so simple, so unassuming, only because there was already so much between you. And everything that had followed, with her, and her with your son, had been the same. Everything just made sense.

But you did think, perhaps, you should get down on one knee.

So you started lowering yourself to the ground as you opened the box. But before you could complete the pose, Sana grabbed you by your collar and pulled you into a crushing kiss.

You surmised that was a yes and smiled into the kiss.

“Come on, come on,” your son was ecstatic, practically shooting off from his seat on the couch. Sana only smiled to herself as she set up the laptop on the coffee table, making sure the camera showed everyone and that she looked all right. “We’re in!”

Handing Sana the mugs in your hands, you seated yourself down and lifted your son onto your lap. Just as you were taking back your mug, a shrill voice shrieked. “Sana!”

Your son giggled while your eyes widened. Because Sana returned the greeting with the same energy. “Nayeon!”

You’ve heard of that one before, Nayeon, and seen photos of her too. Well, you couldn’t remember exactly, Sana had quite the group of friends but when Nayeon’s face appeared along with another person, you just smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Nayeon said politely to you just as another screen popped up. You knew them, the newlyweds!

You parroted her greeting as more screens popped up with familiar faces, but none close. You’ve only heard stories or seen photos. The laptop erupted with voices, none of which you recognized, it was quite overwhelming. Though, Sana had no trouble at all catching the flow of the conversation and laughing along. Your son seemed to follow her, although silently. Someone with the name of Choi Tzuyu housed two people on their screen, they both waved at your son, who responded eagerly.

“I think everyone is here!” one of the women said, her profile name read Jihyo. She was clearly wearing a suit, though her tie had been undone. “Yup, headcount done, everyone is here. How are we moving forward with this?”

“Well, that depends on Sana, really,” a woman from Nayeon’s screen said, she’d just joined the pair that was already there. She was wearing a smug smile, and in response, Sana rolled her eyes.

Both you and your son turned to Sana, expectant.

Grinning at the ground, feigning bashfulness, Sana held up her left hand. And there it was, glinting in the light, your engagement ring.

The audio lagged from how much volume erupted. Someone wolf-whistled, while the others laughed and clapped. You knew people were congratulating you, but you were too busy fending off Sana burying her forehead into your shoulder. Only your son seemed to delight in the revelry.

And then, to your horror, someone yelled. “Show us your ring too!”

Before you could even lift your hand, your son had taken your left hand and held it above his head, showcasing the matching ring!

Someone shrieked again, although this time around the celebration was a bit more subdued.

“Damn, I thought we were all gonna scream again but okay,” the one with the profile name Hirai Momo said, while the person next to them swatted their arm. “What? It’s—”

“Please ignore Momo, congrats on your engagement,” Jihyo said, leaning forward, trying to look right at you. “I know Sana has been excited about this for quite a while.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, as Sana pulled away from you, a blush coating her cheeks.

“We knew this was coming,” the profile Dahyun said, “but I think this is the first child in our little group—hello!”

Your son perked up as all attention was on him. “Hello!”

He was readying himself to be asked questions, to share his interest in cooking with a whole new group of people, though the conversation switched again.

“He’s not the first child, we have children too,” Momo whined. “Look, Boo and Dobby are here.”

And then she continued to make the most obnoxious noise to call over her dogs.

“You did not just compare an adorable kid to your feral dogs,” said the person next to Momo, even though they reached out to a dog themself and picked one up. “I’m sorry for this one, kid.”

Your son didn’t seem to mind, instead, he was absolutely taken with the two dogs in the hands of the couple.

“Then, I guess I have children too,” someone from the profile Choi Tzuyu said and called over another dog too.

“Oh, Tzuyu, you’re back home?” someone asked and once again, the conversation changed.

Smiling at the sight, you were content with just seeing Sana interact with her friends. She’d been pretty adamant about staying with you for this Christmas, and she’d mentioned how horrid the one before had been. It was the reason this group had decided to call this time around.

Then out of the blue, Jihyo asked. “So when is the wedding?”

“Why are you asking? So you can bring that plus-one of yours from last time?”

The call erupted again.

“Right, right, how long are you just going to be attending weddings? When are you going—”

“Jeongyeon, I’m going to stop you right there, you’re giving me traumatic flashbacks to my mom,” Jihyo said, holding up her hands. “And, that plus-one was a one-time thing, I’ll probably never see them again.”

“They’ll probably be there for Sana’s wedding, let's be honest,” even the slightest mention of your wedding had you sweating. Sana seemed to notice.

Muting yourself, Sana turned to you. “They’re going to go at this for a while, thanks for agreeing to meet them… they’re basically family to me.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You ignored the one who whistled again. You were muted, not off-camera. You tried not to display your embarrassment. “I’ll get this one ready for bed then.”

Your son was pouting, but Sana just nodded. “I’ll finish up this call, and we can finish up your favourite chapter.”

At that, your son’s smile returned.

“Come on,” you said, picking him up and giving him a boost to land across the couch. You took the empty mug from Sana’s hand and left as she re-entered the conversation as if her little pause never occurred.

“Mina! Ask Mina, she’s single too—!”

“But we’re here to talk about you, Jihyo—!”

“What do you mean? You just got engaged!”

Their voices faded with every step you took away from Sana, your son in tow.

Maybe it was the end of the year, maybe it was the communal holiday spirit, but every Christmas, you found yourself reminiscing about past memories. Watching your son take his first steps, to watching him become confident in his own skin, you were glad he was surrounded by people who loved him as much as you did. And now, that permanently included Sana. These holidays have changed so many things, all of which you were so deeply grateful for.

Surged with a wave of emotion upon reaching the threshold of your childhood bedroom, and unable to suppress your elation, you grabbed your son by the hips and lifted him into the air. You were sure the sound of his surprised giggles would stay imprinted in your mind for many more Christmases to come.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: first and foremost, i am so very sorry dear anon for getting this to you almost two fucking years later ;-; and second, happy percy jackson day !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #sana fluff #single parent au #christmas au #blueberry muffins

178 notes · View notes

sanccharine · 9 months

Text

the way everyday goes | ty

christmas au

pairing: tzuyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7k

warning: again so sweet it'll rot your teeth ;-;

summary: your bank account may be crying, but that doesn't matter when you spend money on the people you love most

a/n: this year (last years rip) christmas fic, would anyone believe me if i said everything was ready to be posted ?? i just got lazy, i'm sorry HAFGDHSKFH thanks to @eternallyghosting my human spelling and grammar check but ngl tho, i wrote this fic very weirdly, so expect some things to not add up, but yeah !! happy new year !!

When Tzuyu opened the door to her studio, she seemed the furthest thing from happy to see you. Though that was often the expression she wore when dealing with the likes of you.

You, on the other hand, wore a wide grin, shaking a large bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of iced coffee in the other.

She was dressed in her usual garb. The one she wore when she locked herself in her room for an ungodly amount of days. An extra large sweatshirt that fell to her thighs with matching sweatpants in black colour. The only indicator of her tension is the frayed hem of one corner, no doubt picked at the seam while she reads all of her essays and articles and textbooks.

Tzuyu was unamused, but you were used to that. No harm done. Scoffing at her deadpan look, you shoved your way into her small house. When she didn’t step to the side, your back clipped the door frame, while all she did was watch you with her owlish eyes.

“Good morning,” you said, throwing another grin at her over your shoulder as you made your way straight to her study desk. Tzuyu had barely moved, holding the door open and just watching you run around her home as if it were your own. “Come on, why do you look like that? Catch!”

And you threw the chips packet at her.

Your smile only widened as Tzuyu watched the packet fly across the distance between you and let it fall to her feet. She looked at the packet and then at you and then back at the packet. With a sigh, she closed the door behind her.

You expected as much from her and shrugged. “Have fun with your crumbs,” you said, observing her study desk.

“Oh, I will,” she mumbled and bent down to pick up the fallen treat.

Exams are over. Results were coming out soon for the semester. And best of all, your holidays have started. The campus is closed for a whole week until New Year’s, truly there was nothing to frown at. Yet, there you stood scrutinising Tzuyu’s desk.

Her laptop is open on some unit site, codes and words that meant nothing to you. Her notebooks were strewn open with loose sheets, all highlighted and annotated with multicoloured pens. Sticky notes infiltrated every part of your vision. It overwhelmed you. Though, you supposed a student like Tzuyu could only function as such.

“What—What is all…” you gestured loosely at her table, “this?”

Tzuyu, still at her place in front of the door, tilted her head to the left as she opened the chips packet. Her blank stare was just a touch away from a glare as she decided not to grace you with a response.

You were used to her tricks. Same as she was to your taunts.

“You know the semester is over right, like, you can rest now,” you say, but Tzuyu scoffed.

She made her way towards you and headed to the cupboard behind. But not before offering you some of her chips, you tipped the crumbs into your mouth.

“I have to prepare for postgrad,” she said, “you know that.”

“Oh, what postgrad?” you asked, feigning cluelessness but Tzuyu just sent a scathing glare over her shoulder. “Do you mean the postgrad that starts in September of next year?”

“Second week of October,” she said, as she pushed hangers out of the way as if they’d personally offended her.

“Oh, even worse,” you sighed dramatically, throwing your arm over your forehead though she didn’t turn having seen this routine so many times. “That’s what? Only like a year’s worth of time—”

“It’s only ten months.”

“Oh sorry, only ten months, that’s truly so little time,” you said, purposely standing in her way when she turned to lay out her pick on the bed. Tzuyu liked to visualize her clothes.

“That time will pass in a flash—get! Get out of my way!” she shoved you to the side and walked to her bed before continuing. “Before you know it, the semester will start and you’ll be wondering how you’re already behind on assignments.”

That was such a fatalistic belief that only a student like Tzuyu can hold. Even when she, herself, has disproved such thinking.

“Yeah, but you did promise to take a break for a while,” you said, a bit of seriousness slipping in but you caught yourself. Shrugging exaggeratedly for effect and took a moment to consider. After a pause, you clapped your hands together. “Like how we said we’d go out and celebrate today! Remember that?”

“Can’t say I do. Is that why you’re up so early today?” she said as she moved back and forth pulling out pieces to complete her outfit. Tzuyu then returned to her cupboard, shuffling something around in there. You’d say that she was trying to figure out how to complete her look, but knowing her, she’d probably planned her outfit for the day.

You looked at your wrist, there was no watch. “Yeah, getting up before twelve was a real struggle,” you said and you moved right by her as she finally picked out a manuka winter coat. She ignored the way you clung to her side, though you didn’t miss the small smile she wore. Donning a smile of your own, you continued. “But you know those are the sacrifices I make for our relationship.”

“Oh, is that right?” Tzuyu asked, following along with your playacting.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been waiting all week for this day. All month even, you could say. Just for this, this very special, oh-so-jolly day. All only to get some time to spend with you, my—” You had just opened your arms to cage Tzuyu from moving around but she’d stopped you with a hand to chest.

“It’s not that serious,” her words were clipped but she was smiling. “Calm down, now.”

“Now, why would I do that?” you asked, arms still outstretched, you jutted your chin at them, waiting for your hug.

Tzuyu rolled her eyes but still relented.

She giggled when your arms closed around like how a claw machine would around a toy. And similarly—

“Don’t—” her words ended in a squeal as you lifted her up and spun her around, a little wobbly on your feet just to mess with her.

You dragged her down to her bed, crumpling her perfectly set up clothes on the way, and burst into giggles. All the while Tzuyu grumbled her distaste at being lifted up while struggling to get away from your hold.

“Stop laughing!” she shrieked, pushing herself away as giggles escaped her lips as well. “Seriously, seriously! I’ll go get ready, let me go now!”

You just hummed and rolled away as she hurriedly got off the bed. She straightened herself up before tugging at her clothes from beneath you. All you did was watch her, a cold sensation climbed up your arms.

“You’re unbelievable,” she was flushed when she said it, but grinning ear to ear as she made her way to her bathroom.

By the time the pair of you had reached the bus station, you had finished both the packet of chips and your bottle of iced coffee. Swiping her card quickly, Tzuyu made her way to the back of the bus and picked a two-seater. This early in the morning and this far out of the city, there was barely anyone on the bus. She shuffled herself next to the window just as you took a seat next to her.

The bus had already moved from the station when Tzuyu pulled out her phone and earphones from her pockets. Without even looking at you, she handed you the left earphone after putting the right one on. When you accepted, she pressed play and leaned back with her eyes closed.

You watched her for a second, a reprieve from when she wasn’t studying you back. You heard a chime somewhere in your vicinity, but you didn’t turn away, your stop wasn’t up until a while.

Tzuyu often looked perfect.

Of course, that was simple to say because she was beautiful. There was no doubt about it.

But it wasn’t so surface-level. It bled into how she carried herself and practically built her facade.

She’d said it herself.

“Repetition leads to routine, and practice leads to perfection. It’s monotonous but it brings order. They set a standard,” she paused. “And that’s something I can’t afford to give up.”

Granted, when she had uttered those words you’d found her in the same awful set of lockdown-sweats. A manic look in her eyes and her hair was frizzy from having a hand run through it so many times. She’d stayed up all night writing her draft of an essay that was worth nearly fifty percent of her grade. She’d barely eaten, surviving on instant black coffee and cereal bars.

In those types of moments, she reminded herself of those words. She repeated them when her motivation dipped beyond recognition and staring at her screen made her eyes dry up. She had a sticky note of the same words written in a hasty scrawl in her line of sight, just above where her laptop sat, so it was always on her mind. She’d apologise because she was not one to bite her tongue, but she’d tell you the same words. And sometimes it motivated you, seeing her excel, you wanted that for yourself too. But most of the time, the weight of working so hard crushed you straight into the ground.

It was worrying but she never really let herself stay down. And maybe, that’s where you came in.

When she’d tired herself out, you’d bought her dinner to make sure she had a proper meal before she slept for a whole day. You provided the snacks when you both holed yourselves in the library. You dragged her out by planning days such as this. You were her reprieve.

And by that time, you’d figured her out.

You saw her past the perfection she so delicately manufactured. Past the painted nails. Past the crisply ironed dress shirts. Past the curious gaze.

It wasn’t as if she completely removed her imperfections. If you knew where to look, you could find it. The fraying insides of her cuffs from picking at the threads. The flimsy collar barely holding its shape after being pulled at for so long. The flyaway strands that came undone when she played with her hair. They were always there, always humanizing her. You just needed to look at her long enough to know they existed.

When you saw the muscle in her cheek twitch, you were brought back to the sensation of the moving bus, rumbling beneath you. She knew you were watching, but decided against confronting you about it. The thought brought a smile of your own as you picked up your phone to check when you needed to stop the bus.

That was your duty. Your role in this relationship. One you took with pride.

Tzuyu was comfortable enough to let herself take a step back and allow you to drag her wherever you’d planned, no questions asked. The entire day was scheduled on your phone, even allowing for late buses and trains. You’ve travelled enough on public transportation to account for this sort of thing.

So that's how the trip to the central business district went. From bus to subway, from station to station, and one line to another—Tzuyu stuck by you.

Her earphones, still connecting you. Your hand, always holding hers.

You knew this city like the back of your hand. That happens when you spend nearly four years travelling back and forth, finding part-time jobs, going out, and attending events.

Yet you were still noticing new things from time to time.

As soon as your train stopped in the main district, you headed straight for the restaurants to load up on snacks. You still had time to kill before you needed to go where you needed to be. So you let Tzuyu drag you around, gawking at books she wants to read, playing around with fabrics of sweatshirts she already owned, but most importantly, you bought her almost everything she asked for when it came to food.

Though she did threaten to leave when you first proclaimed loudly at the counter. “Don’t worry, anything for my pretty princess.”

That was how you ended up holding two special collectable bubble tea cups, a take-away bag filled with free samples, and an inviting half-eaten honey cake which the pair of you left for later since it was too sweet.

From time to time, you pestered Tzuyu to take photos of you. Although she whined about it, once the camera was up, she was striking a pose. Her, always so prim and proper, and you, always with your arm above her or around her or holding her. Always gazing at her.

“Tell me you didn’t,” though you weren’t facing her, you could imagine her gawking.

“Well, I kinda did,” you shrugged, before throwing the clerk a smile as he went in to grab your shoes.

“How much was this—”

“I told you, money is not a problem! Anything for my sweet little schnookums—oi! That actually really hurt!” you leaned on the counter, a groan escaping you as you held the bicep that was harassed. “Unbelievable, unbelievable!”

Tzuyu just stuck her tongue out before grabbing her own shoes and heading in.

“Real mature,” you grumbled with a smile as you grabbed your pair of shoes and followed after her.

You’d dumped all your belongings except your phone into a locker and took a seat by Tzuyu to put on the ice skating shoes. For some reason, the fit was never perfect. Sometimes it felt like it was biting into your toes, or placing pressure on your ankle, but then it felt too loose when you tried to stand. While you were doing and undoing the laces, you missed the way Tzuyu just watched you with a smile.

With a groan, you tried again, hoping to get it down this time. “Honestly,” you looked up for a second at the rink. “I didn’t expect it to be this packed.”

“Oh, you’re telling me you didn’t expect one of the biggest ice rinks… in the city… to be busy… on Christmas Eve?” Tzuyu asked, her voice dripping with more derision with every statement.

“Okay but is it really Christmas Eve if it is, like, eleven in the morning?” you asked with a sigh as you finally finished tying your shoes.

“The whole day is the Eve,” she sent you a look as she stood, not wobbling at all on her blades. “And it’s almost two.”

“Is it?!” you asked, pulling out your phone. She was right!

Not according to schedule, but you expected as much. You could work with this.

“That’s fine,” you said and pocketed your phone before trying to get up. Tzuyu’s hand was already in your vision, and without hesitation, you took it. “Thanks.”

When you were stable, she let go.

“Okay, you can do it,” and with that, she took two steps and was on the rink already merging with the moving crowd that circled the border.

“Chou Tzuyu, are you serious?” you screamed, even getting some looks, but you weren’t bothered.

Even with the crowd, and the blaring Christmas tunes, you could hear her laugh once you spotted her. Tzuyu had her head thrown back, eyes crinkled close, and her right hand gripping the railing so she didn't double over and eat ice shavings. If she wasn’t having so much fun, you’d have been mad at her for laughing at your expense.

Tzuyu moved along but slowed down a bit so that you could catch up. It’s not as if you’ve never skated before, you have. After all, you were the one to book this outing. You just hoped you would be a little bit more graceful. Of course, after a few rounds, the lack of practice and confidence will disappear, but for the moment, you longingly stared at the children gleefully making circles in the middle of the rink with their penguins.

“Oh, come on, let go of the railing,” Tzuyu taunted, skating smoothly by your side, while you were hunched over the railing, basically walking on ice. “Come on!”

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” a child giggled as she passed around you with a penguin aid. You’re sticking next to the railing too, kid!

“Why did you book this if you’re not even going to skate properly?” Tzuyu had the gall to pout.

“Because it’s in theme! Winter, holidays, snow, Christmas—!” you let out an ugly squeal as the blades slipped from underneath you. For a moment, you flailed. You imagined you looked like those cartoon characters just as they teetered off a cliff, hands winding around like a propeller to stop themselves from plummeting. Thankfully, the railing was your shining knight in armour and your wayward legs had stopped fighting you.

Tzuyu had stopped skating. But once you looked back at her, both elbows over the railing while huffing and puffing, she just broke out laughing. Maybe you’d admire how free she looked when she laughed like that if you weren’t glaring at her. While she did that, you pulled yourself into a standing position.

“I’m fine,” you huffed out as you were standing and facing the rink again. “Thanks for worrying, by the way.”

Still chuckling, Tzuyu came closer to the railing. And then she did something insane.

Pushing herself with one foot, she spun around and came to a stop in front of you.

When did she have the time to learn all of that?

“No need to show off.” Tzuyu rolled her eyes as she extended her arms.

“And no need to be killjoy,” she retaliated before jutting her chin at her hands. “Come on, take it.”

You made quite the show of how much you did not want this, though it was hard to suppress your smile. She shared the expression when you took her help. With a nod, she pushed off and moved backwards, pulling you with her.

When she tugged you close, you let out another yelp, and she had to press her lips thin to not burst out laughing again. She moved slowly, helping you find your footing on the ice while you navigated her away from bumping into people. Maybe if you weren’t so busy with maintaining your balance, you may have taken your chance to press a kiss on her nose, only to watch her scrunch her eyes shut and blush to her ears.

Once you’d done a round like that, Tzuyu decided to be brave and pushed herself back to your side. Although she was still holding one of your hands, leaning down, she picked up pace and so you followed her. Before you knew it, you were skating again. Like you used to, the few times you visit. Right by her side, competitions and bets came up, but at the end of the rounds, you were just finding ways to hold Tzuyu’s hand again.

When you realized that the rink’s Christmas playlist had looped, you decided it was time for a break. For you, at least. Stopping at a corner near the entrance to the rink, you leaned on the railing as you watched Tzuyu make easy rounds around the rink, even daring to skate between people. Like any other person, you picked out your phone and started filming her fly across the rink.

There was one particular move where she skated backwards and manoeuvred into a slow spin that made her laugh when she executed it perfectly. However, she’d almost run over a child who barely reached her knee in the process. Instantly, she was on her knees on the ice, even though the kid kept shaking her head to convey that she was fine. That was how you had another video of Tzuyu, skating hand in hand with a little girl as she taught her how to do a little circle.

You were on the seats with your shoes already in your hands when Tzuyu plopped herself down next to you.

“Happy?” you asked, tilting your head to watch her.

The grand clock chimed to mark the start of a new hour.

She nodded, eyes scrunched close again as she grinned. “Very.”

By the time you’d collected your things and finished up the rest of your leftover snacks, it was already time for dinner. You made your reservation just in time. When you entered the restaurant, the first thing the maitre d’ did was judge you. Well, you couldn’t be sure of what was going through his head, though you're sure he wasn’t supposed to stare at you for so long.

Granted, you and Tzuyu had sprinted the last few steps because it started snowing hard, and were huffing and puffing like some steam engine.

“Welcome,” his voice pitched high before he corrected himself and tried again. Instead of bursting out laughing, you and Tzuyu just shared an amused look before following him.

He guided you through the main lounge of the restaurant and to the private rooms you’d booked. Most places had flashing lights, a horrifying mixture of green and red covering every surface to get in the spirit. However, you loved how this restaurant had decorated the places. The whole place was dimmed, so only the fairy lights by the curling and candles on the tables twinkled. Each table had its own bouquet with flowers you couldn’t name, some adorned with miniature ornaments and some with paper-crafted reindeers and bells. Dinner plates, champagne glasses, and table mats had little accents of red and green, nothing too daring.

You supposed such simple elegance was expected of a high-end restaurant, but that also meant their clientele was of a different calibre too. Most of those at the tables were couples in expensive clothes and greying hair. Some seemed younger, but even they held an air of authority that you doubted you held as you trudged your way through the place.

Not that it mattered though. The waiter introduced the pair of you to your room and informed you how you could ring for help before closing the door behind him. With just you and Tzuyu in the room, you made yourselves comfortable.

Tzuyu pulled up the menu while you shrugged off your coat and hung it over your chair. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked before turning the menu and showing off the price of the dishes.

“Well, seeing as my name was on their list and they haven’t kicked us out. I think, yes,” you replied and picked up a menu for yourself. “Order anything. Whatever you want.”

You said a bit more genuinely than the last few times you did.

“Are you sure?” Tzuyu asked, still scrutinizing the prices.

“Of course,” you nodded, scanning for a dish that was worth the price. “My treat, remember.”

Tzuyu’s (and your own, really) inhibitions about the price had disappeared once you had your first bite. The food was absolutely divine. The pair of you had ordered two different dishes and then swapped halfway through, and then ordered one more dish and a dessert to end it with.

Tzuyu was scraping the bottom of her bowl when you asked her. “What do you think about marriage?”

The scraping stopped.

You’d have laughed at the little smudge of chocolate by her lip if her eyes weren’t so wide.

“Like, you mean, us?” she asked slowly.

A small chuckle escaped you as you moved the ice cream around in your own bowl. “No, like, in general.”

“Is this about Sana?”

That was the name of the second person in Tzuyu’s ginormous friend group who had gotten married over the summer. You never really knew the woman personally, or any of her friends really, but you’d heard enough about them and visited two weddings to know what they were like. And especially how much they mattered to Tzuyu.

“Sure, I guess,” you shrugged and Tzuyu returned to her dessert, although much slower this time around. “I don’t know, it just feels so daunting, you know?”

Tzuyu waited in silence.

With a sigh, you continued. “They’re so young and they got married,” you admitted.

It wasn’t just Tzuyu’s friends. You’ve heard stories within your own lectures, of people discussing marriage plans and getting engaged and dream weddings. And if not that, they were settling down, in relationships that seemed to promise security more than momentary pleasure. You’re not one to give that sort of thing too much thought, but you’d be a liar if you said you’ve never thought about it.

Tzuyu studied her bowl, apparently, there was still quite a bit of dessert left. “They know what they want…”

That was a simple enough answer.

Did you know what you want?

Your hand stopped spinning your spoon around as you studied Tzuyu.

Bells. That’s what you heard when you looked at her. Not like the deafening sirens you set as your morning alarm or the jingles you’ve been hearing all day. A soft melody filled with dulcet notes, building as your heart rate increased. It must be a sound you’ve heard before if your mind can come up with it… right? But you just couldn’t place the sound, it didn’t sound like any song you’d heard and if it was, you wouldn't recognize it.

You heard it every time you glanced at her, it arose in the strangest of moments. The pair of you had just pulled an all-nighter, the sky was losing darkness and turning into a dreamy blue, and when you turned to Tzuyu, you found her face pressed onto her textbook. She was out cold, the right side of her face completely smashed and her mouth hanging open as she slept. You had to clasp a hand over your mouth from laughing at yourself and waking her up.

And then you heard it when she first made instant noodles her way for you and added a concerning amount of cheeses. Then, it was when she suggested visiting a new cafe in the city and you’d agreed without question. Or when she’d bought you a random trinket from a street vendor solely because it had reminded her of you. So many trivial moments, filled with a soundtrack of your own making for your very own love story.

Because it was one. There were no two ways about it.

People often say falling in love is magical, perhaps that holds some truth to it. The fluttering in your stomach that you couldn’t differentiate from nervousness, the beating of your heart hammering away as if it were to burst, the shiver that runs up your neck, that same sense of suffocation you feel when you’re out of breath. How gooseflesh rises on your skin, but you feel so warm inside. And when you look at her, it's a sensation of relief that you feel. The tinge of positivity when she looks back at you, a twinkle in her eyes to let you know you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

You wanted to ask her and you have asked her.

Were you supposed to do something right now? In the moment? What would happen if we didn’t address it? How could we plan anything? How many times could we tell each other that it’s not fear? That we’re not scared? You’re not scared? But you are, you really are. It was overwhelming.

Are we falling behind?

She’d always denied it.

And she was right, of course.

But it didn’t always feel like it.

There were only a handful of people you considered true friends from your university. Not because they’d done anything to you or whatever, some people just click and stick with you forever and some don’t. It was simple. It was normal. And the former was true of Tzuyu.

It was so true, sometimes it brought tears to your eyes when you thought about it in the middle of the night. It really is so overwhelming just how much you felt for her. Perhaps this was love, or it was something else, you’ve never felt at this intensity before. You really couldn’t name it. And that might sound strange but it was true, nothing could really encompass what you felt, or heard even, when you looked at her.

“What are you looking at?” Tzuyu’s voice broke you from your reverie.

Your mouth made the shape to enunciate the word.

“And don’t say, you,” Tzuyu groaned as she pushed her bowl away, she’d finished her treat.

She knew your tricks all too well. You’ll need to change it up.

“Don’t freak, but there’s a bug on your—”

“What?” Tzuyu freaked out. “Where? Where is it? Tell me!”

Freezing up, all she could do was glare when you just chuckled. “I was wondering if I should just slap you to hit it,” Tzuyu’s eyes widened and you couldn’t help your laughter. “Or just leave you at its mercy and run, I didn’t want its attention on me–”

“Just get it off!”

“–but you know, sudden movements and things. I can’t die, I have too much to live for—” she shrieked your name, pleading as her hands gripped the table. “Okay, okay, come here.”

Gesturing for her to move forward, you leaned over the table to wipe away the smudge of ice cream by the corner of her lips. The smudge was long gone, so she should have guessed so was the 'bug' but you just held her chin. You, watching her. And her, watching you.

Having lingered long enough, you pulled your hand back with a smile.

“Thanks,” she mumbled after clearing her throat.

You just nodded before showing her your bowl of melted ice cream. “Do you want to finish this off too?”

“Yes, please,” she said, “but I also have something for you.”

You tilted your head in confusion, every single plate on her side of the table had been wiped clean. What did she have to give you?

You were just about to voice those words when she pulled out a small package from underneath the table. A gasp had barely left your lips when she spoke.

“It’s not a ring.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

“I’m sure you are,” Tzuyu placed the package next to your bowl and took the ice cream. “Open it.”

Following orders, you opened the package and you started second-guessing her claim of this not being a marriage proposal. Of course, you knew it wouldn’t be, you’d talked about as much. But you guessed somewhere you’d like to hear such news.

You sent her a glance when you felt the velvet inning of the box, though she just shook her head.

What was in there, when you opened the box, was a necklace.

A loud snort escaped you that you had to clasp a hand over your mouth.

When you looked up, Tzuyu was shovelling ice cream into her mouth but still grinning. She was doing anything to avoid looking at you.

The necklace barely matched its packaging. The first thing that caught your attention was an amulet, it was discolored and its design eroded, by wear that you could barely make out what it used to be. But you knew. And you remembered.

Four years ago, during some university-wide event, the amulet had caught your attention on some stall. But at the same time you’d reached for it, so had Tzuyu. The bells. That’s where you could track them back to. Some busking artist that had been performing at the time, providing a melody that you’d come to associate with Tzuyu herself and the love you have for her.

Tzuyu had been very adamant about having the amulet, and you, well you couldn’t care less. So you’d said the opposite and asked her to buy you the very expensive, very sugary, glazed doughnuts from the foodtruck down the line. And she’s just said yes.

And then you talked. You exchanged your numbers. And the rest well, was history.

Tzuyu never came around to wearing the amulet, and one night she admitted that she only bought it for its aesthetics, but could never find a moment to properly wear it. And if she did, she found herself wrapping it around her wrist so she could play with it when class was boring. The same night you admitted you just used the necklace to get yourself free doughnuts. From then on, she made it very obvious to wear it whenever you were around.

And now, it has returned to you. Having lost all of its aesthetic appeal.

“Oh this, this is priceless,” you said, giggling and tugging it from the box, already putting it on. “Thank you.”

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, finishing the last of your ice cream. “Now, where’s my present?”

You know she was asking to be cheeky, but you still entertained her. “Oh, like the whole day I planned and spent with my hard-earned money wasn’t a present?”

The train ride back was longer than you’d expected, but it gave Tzuyu some time to nap. Once again, you were connected by your hands and her earphones, as she lay her head on your shoulder.

Seeing as how late it was, buses would take longer to make their last rounds. Which is why you left Tzuyu at the bus stop, so you could quickly rush to the general store behind it and get some more snacks. Hot chocolate seemed like the right choice at a time like this, the perfect ending to the day. The scene would be magical, being seated together at a bus stop, illuminated by a warm lamppost, surrounded by flecks of snow as you sipped on hot chocolate. But also, you were craving more ice cream. Dealing with a cold will be your future you’s problem.

So you grabbed two cones and a hand warmer and swiped your card.

The streets seemed empty, even though it wasn’t even that late. Well… by a student’s standard, it wasn’t that late, seeing as it was nearing eleven in the evening, perhaps it was late.

“I got our snacks,” you said, holding up a cone in each hand. Tzuyu just chuckled as she took one from your hand. She struggled for a moment to peel off the wrapping with her gloved hands, but when she did, she bit a large chunk of the ice cream, and you just gawked in awe.

The bus had arrived by the time you finished the cones. Just as your stop arrived, Tzuyu’s music stopped. Someone was calling her.

“What time is it?” she asked, pulling out her phone, you missed the caller’s name.

“Like, almost midnight,” you said, getting up and guiding her out as she answered the call.

“They’re an hour early—”

“Tzuyu-ah!” Sana’s voice shrieked into your earphones, you had to pull it out. You thanked the bus driver and wished him a good night, ignoring the way he squinted at you.

“Do you still want to go—” Tzuyu just threw a thumbs up as she matched Sana’s voice in greeting.

Letting her catch up with her friend, you guided her to the park you often visited, usually near midnight like tonight, and always at the children’s playground to the small swing set.

When you helped Tzuyu into her seat, so engrossed in the call, she started taking the seat as soon as the swing hit the back of her legs, she'd have landed flat on her back had you not helped her into the seat.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you looked up to see Sana’s son wave at you.

“Oh, oh, hey, kid,” Tzuyu sent you a look over her shoulder as you made sure she was not going to slip off the seat. “It’s good to see you again! How’re you doing, kid?”

“I’m good, how are you?” he asked, and you parrotted the same answer, a little breathy from slouching over.

“Sit down, will you?” Tzuyu pretended to groan, pushing your face away from her shoulder.

The seat was made for children, so it was very very low to the ground and tiny. You had to balance yourself on your things to not flip over the seat, a moment's distraction and you could be swinging from your knees. Holding on to the chains, you pushed yourself close to Tzuyu so your face was on camera again.

“No, seriously, how are you?” you asked again to get past the surface-level answers. “What have you been up to?”

With a wide grin, he started speaking about a recipe he had just mastered and while he did more of Tzuyu’s friends joined. Most of which you were familiar with now, having met them at two weddings and conversed with some over calls. Though you were most glad to see Sana’s son again. You’d only met him face to face once. It was at Sana's wedding during the summer. Both you and Tzuyu had been taken with him when you first met him last Christmas. Tzuyu had taken you back home with her last year, and you finally got to meet her beloved dogs, and so had Sana’s son. He’d remembered to even ask about Tzuyu’s dogs during the wedding, you spent the better part of the event showing him the videos you had.

Ever since you’d gotten him a gift, he’d grown quite fond of you both. Now usually, it was tradition to get gifts mostly for those to be wed, but you and Tzuyu had instead decided to gift their son. You’d heard how much he loved the Percy Jackson books much like you had, so you decided to buy him the Kane Chronicles. thankfully he hadn’t read or gotten them yet. Besides, seeing as both you and Tzuyu were neck deep in student debt and as broke as they come, you weren’t really in a place to buy the newlyweds a washing machine.

Tzuyu waved to others, while you kept him talking. “Have you read the Kane Chronicles yet?”

The boy had an affinity to reread the same book over and over again, even if he wasn’t completed with a series. At the wedding, he’d been attached at the hip to the Son of Neptune, which was understandable. But also, the next two books are easily the best of the series.

“I did start them!” he said, eagerly leaning away from the camera before bringing the second book in with him. “I really like it,” he said, flipping through some pages and turning the book to show it. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was too blurry to see anything but a blank white page. “But it’s not as fun as you said it would be, I still like Percy Jackson better than this series.”

Oh.

Now, you’re at a stage in your life where you didn’t go around picking fights with children, though you will say it was a difficult urge to ignore. But something about appreciating children having different opinions from you or whatever.

“Um, yeah, no, I—”

“Please, don’t pick a fight with a child,” Tzuyu said with a groan and the call erupted with a cacophony of laughter. You’d missed when everyone had joined. You had been hogging the call.

“I wasn’t going to! The kid had the right to his own opinions,” you said, looking scandalized but then mumbled under your breath. “Even if it’s wrong.”

Tzuyu shoved you with a smile and you let the swing take its original spot. With a smile of your own, you let Tzuyu catch up with her friends, only waving and greeting people when she turned the phone to face you. After some wishes of Merry Christmas and farewells, the phone call had been cut. With every passing year, it was harder to meet, even during holidays when everyone was supposed to be free. In-person meetings seemed like a faraway dream, and planning a call seemed just as hectic, but somehow Tzuyu’s friends found a way. But you know Tzuyu ached to meet her friends again, some time where it wasn't a life-changing event that brought them together or where disaster didn’t strike. Just to be with them for a moment.

You hadn’t even realized you were pushing yourself towards her, let alone kissing her on the cheek. Only when your swing recoiled back to her place and Tzuyu let out a small noise in question, did you realize what you’d done.

“What was that for?” Tzuyu asked, her hand caressing the place where you’d kissed her.

“I don’t know actually,” you said wistfully. “Just because.”

Tzuyu hummed in acknowledgement as blush coloured her cheeks. You thought maybe she’d chastise you, even as a joke. But then, she did something shocking.

Her hand pulled on your swing chain and pulled you close.

It wasn’t the smoothest kiss. Your noses bumped into each other and the angle was wrong, but none of it really mattered because soon both your hands went to hold her as close as possible. She giggled into the kiss, no doubt, shyness creeping in as she comprehended what she’d just done.

If it were up to you, maybe you would’ve stayed there until sunrise.

Unfortunately, your leg, which was strained to hold you in place, slipped just as Tzuyu gently pushed you away. While you swung sideways, Tzuyu hid her face in her hands.

A giggle from her earned from you. And before you knew it, the pair of you were laughing, hunched over and swinging lightly.

Many things are changing, but your days will be all the same. Especially with Tzuyu by your side. And she wasn’t leaving your side any time soon.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: people really need to read kane chronicles, its literally perfect but yeah, hope you enjoyed this ! again happy new year !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #tzuyu x reader #twice x reader #tzuyu imagines #twice imagines #tzuyu fluff #christmas au #the way everyday goes

153 notes · View notes

sanccharine · 3 months

Text

15 | child labour

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader genre: fluff, slice of life word count: 3.4k

warnings: description of injury, probably inaccurate, idk im not a doctor

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: NO ONE MUHAHAHAH its a tzuyn special y'all

status: ongoing a/n: happy tzuyu day !! also happy nayeon comeback day !! and thanks to @eternallyghosting for fixing my atrocious grammar <3

masterlist | chapter 14 | chapter 16

The morning of the detention, as well as your fated talk with Chou Tzuyu, you woke up earlier than usual. Taking advantage of the rarity, you did your routine at a similar speed and headed to breakfast. The hall has never been so empty.

Lee had picked the day where the first hour of the day would be your detention. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. Though you were grateful that you didn’t have to face your friends’ many questions and suggestions before anything. But it also meant, you were left to your devices, left to think and think and think about how to go about fixing your recent stumbling.

Too nauseous to eat, you grabbed a muffin and made your way to the library just as the usual morning crew wandered in. Thankfully again, you didn’t catch any of your friends.

You might have taken a detour to the library, just to stall for some time. To go over the words you wanted to say. You’d hate it if you misspoke and worsened the situation. Previously, you’d tried apologising, tried talking and she’d shut you down. Maybe this time around the pair of you would just listen. You would, you promised that to yourself. And you wouldn’t be petty. And you wouldn’t push her away.

Simple enough? Right?

You stood at the entrance to the library.

Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion swirling in your stomach.

In fact, you’d bet you weren’t even this distraught when the game happened.

Clenching your fists, you pushed open the door to the library. The librarian looked at you over her glasses and clicked her tongue. You’re not a favourite, but then again, when were you?

“Professor Lee sent—”

“Detention. Head to the reference section.” Simple, the books won’t be cursed or ready to snap your fingers off. “Organisation duty.”

Don’t we have magic to do all that?

The librarian shot a glare over her glasses as if she read your mind, you just nodded and made your way.

Sighing, you walk down the shelves, until you find the reference section. Marked off by a placard, you turned right only to walk straight into Tzuyu. With a groan, she gripped the shelf next to her while you just stumbled a step back.

It's not surprising you’d meet like this. Not surprising at all.

“You alright?” you asked since she was rubbing her shoulder.

“Just fine,” she answered, short as usual. Then, she glanced at you. Her gaze shifty. “I’m fine. Are you alright?”

“I can handle a little bump,” you chuckled, not at all disoriented. Tzuyu offered an easy smile, so you mimicked it.

So far, simple. Easy.

Time seemed to pause for a moment. She was still holding her shoulder as she looked at you, waiting for something. While you resorted to taking her in. You hadn’t really seen her in a while. Properly, that is. Glances during classes barely counted. And that night, that night before the game was such a strange time for the both of you. So, in a way, you were glad she didn’t look so sunken.

There was still an air of tenseness around Tzuyu. But her hair had returned to its usual state, though for once it was completely down and her eyes had some light in them, expectant. You were grateful. Having been the first task of the day, your tie was still intact, your buttons done to the top, and your shirt still tucked. For once, you could appear in front of Tzuyu without being your usual dishevelled self.

This was good.

“You’re here early,” she said.

“So are you.”

Tzuyu just hummed with a twitch of her lips. Of course, her being early was not strange at all.

You nodded, gaze shifting as you gulped. You hoped it didn’t sound as loud to her as it did to you.

“I think we should talk,” Tzuyu let go of her shoulder and fully pushed the book in front of her onto the shelf.

“I think so, too,” you agreed.

“Help me?” She tilted her head to the cart and you nodded.

Very quickly, Tzuyu explained the organisation system (which was way more complicated than it needed to be, and again, is this not what magic is for?). Considering the number of reference books you had to replace, you decided to organise them into piles on a table first. That way, you don’t have to go to separate shelves one by one, plus it allowed you to stay in one place and talk to each other.

You handed her books from the cart and she organized them into the piles you needed.

“So how do we start this?” you asked, pointing out the code on the book.

“I wanted to apologise,” you bit back the urge to say she didn’t have to.

When you didn’t say anything and handed another book, she continued. “Starting from the fight, I’m sorry for hitting you with that curse. It wasn’t meant for you. Honestly… I don’t know what came over me.”

Tzuyu paused as she looked over a particularly hefty textbook.

“It’s not often I behave so… impulsive,” she admitted, “I didn’t even think when I cast the spell.”

She took in a wavering breath.

“I know you know, but I want to say it again. It was me who cursed you… wandless,” Tzuyu said, naturally avoiding your gaze as she turned to place the textbook at the far end. “I don’t know what came over me, or frankly how I did it, it just happened. Actually, the first time I’ve successfully cast a wandless spell.”

“Successful is an understatement,” you joked. You fought a grin when that earned a chuckle out of Tzuyu.

“Thanks. I don’t regret it—as in, if it hit Hyukwoo as it was supposed to, I would do it again,” Tzuyu quickly clarified as she took another book from you. “I’m sorry you were caught in the middle, and it was so potent, with your hand and—”

“It's fine,” you quickly reassured her. There was no more desire to hide your left hand, even though it twitched from time to time. “I told you right? That I shattered my wrist?”

She nodded, resting slightly on a pile of books.

Well, you guess you hadn’t explicitly addressed her when you explained your injury. Plus, crucial information had been omitted.

“During our second year, me and Yeri finally got to play as beaters together. Hyukwoo, desperately, wanted the position. So he did what he knew best and jinxed me, mid-game,” you laughed at the memory. Though at the time, you couldn’t even feel your arm. “I lost control of my broom and the bludger I was waiting for tore through it.”

One look at Tzuyu’s horrified expression and you wanted to take your words back.

“I’m fine, it was fine!” you shook your left hand just to let her know. She wasn’t convinced. “I mean twelve-year-olds have twig-like bones, it makes sense—”

“Don’t you have protection? Or gear or something to prevent this from happening?” Tzuyu furrowed her eyebrows, a mixture of concern and disgust threaded through them. “How can it be safe for kids that young—”

“Yes, we have protection, gloves, and guards, but,” you stepped away from the cart and pulled back your left sleeve. Using your right, you push back your left palm as far as it goes and let your index finger stop at the faint line by your wrist. “See that line, just where the palm connects to the arm,” Tzuyu nodded. “Completely unprotected, but I mean we sort of need it for mobility. I was weak, I was out of control, and in the wrong position. All that put together equals a shattered wrist.”

Tzuyu just stared at you in a daze while you explained your injury to her as easily as she explained how to cast conjuration spells.

“Don’t know all the technical terms, plus, I think I was passed out or sedated for most of it. But Madam Yun said my muscle had torn open, hence limpness, and bones shattered to pieces,” Tzuyu pressed her fingers to her lips, physically stopping the squeak that left her lips. “She said it took her days to heal it slowly, just so the bones mended itself, but mended correctly in there. If that makes sense?”

“And you still play Quidditch?” Tzuyu asked, utterly aghast. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you.

“Seems like it,” you smirked at her as you shook your hand to loosen it up. “But yeah, thanks to magic, it’s all good. Just—”

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“What?”

“Why would you play when it's so dangerous?”

“Because it's fun?” you answered plainly and she pulled a face.

“Can’t be so fun, you’d risk your body over and over again,” Tzuyu scoffed, before turning back to the books. She didn’t have any new ones to add to the piles because you hadn’t handed her any. So she resorted to aligning the piles as straight as possible. “What happened to Hyukwoo, then? Why is he not expelled?”

Well, that’s a question you ask every year. But, unfortunately, you knew the reason.

Same reason, you were still at Hogwarts too. In a way.

“Guess what? One of his idiot friends snitched on him, terrified out of his mind when he saw how serious the injury was,” Tzuyu pinched her lips together while shaking her head, her eyes cold. You’ve never seen Tzuyu express so much… ever. That too, in such a short amount of time. “Hyukwoo hid when I was hospitalized, but then only confessed—full snot and tears— when his friend ratted on him. Yeri beat the shit out of him, broke his nose almost as bad as he broke my wrist.”

You snorted again, hoping that Tzuyu would join, instead she was turning a deadly shade of crimson. Surprisingly there was no steam bellowing out of her ears. Your laugh fell, deciding to drop any attempts at jokes altogether.

“Both Yeri and Hyukwoo were suspended,” you admitted, a statement that sobered you.

Once you caught wind of the disciplinary action taken against Yeri, you’d run to write a letter to your parents, not caring you weren’t supposed to leave the hospital wing. You’d begged them for almost a whole week straight to do something to prevent them from expelling Yeri altogether.

They weren’t happy you were injured. They weren’t happy you were playing Quidditch instead of focusing on your studies. They weren’t happy you’d befriended someone like Yeri. And worst of all, that you were demanding that they’d use their name to pull strings.

Finally, they came through. At a cost.

Hyukwoo had planned to injure you and cast a spell on you during a game. He should’ve been expelled.

Yeri’s retaliation, although she injured another student, did it on your behalf and didn’t use any spells. Seeing as it was her first severe misconduct, her parents should've been notified, and maybe lost her privileges.

Instead, Hyukwoo’s parents did the most to ensure Yeri was expelled and their son got away scot-free. When that didn’t happen, it only meant your parents had done what they promised. So you had to do what you promised.

You looked away, turning your body completely to face the cart. You needed a minute to reset. A moment away from Tzuyu’s stare.

“But yeah,” you said, fishing out a book and checking the code. “It healed weirdly, I didn’t take as much rest as I should’ve. So even without your curse, it acts up from time to time. You don’t really have anything to apologise for on that front.”

With that done, you turned to give her a book. Tzuyu was in a daze as she took it from you.

“Tzuyu?” you said, voice very quiet. Though you knew she heard when her eyes snapped to you. “You’re… ?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she nodded before clearing her throat. “Where were we?”

“You were apologising?” You tried a smile and she rolled her eyes in return. That will do.

“Right, next was the plan,” Tzuyu’s whole body sagged. “Oh, I don’t know what I was thinking— I don’t think I was thinking at all! Yeosang was so against it, I asked him to lie as soon as he fixed you. And, of course, on the way he and Wooyoung did the heavy lifting.”

You nodded, handing her another book.

“Honestly, it was so stupid, I panicked and just said whatever and Yeosang was kind enough that he just went with it,” she sighed and corrected a pile. “Seems Lee is like that, too.”

“Yeah, I don't know how you thought lying to Lee would work.”

“I wasn’t thinking, I told you,” you just laughed at her admission.

You hummed when Tzuyu paused. When she didn’t say anything more you decided to ask the question.

“Why did you protect me?”

Tzuyu looked up at you. Like a deer caught in a trap.

“I, um, I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed. “There was no other option. No other right option.”

Then she nodded to herself before looking at you again. A steeliness in her gaze.

“Like I said, I don't regret it, not any of it,” she said. “I’m only sorry how I treated you after. Even if I did want to lie for you, it was not something I make a habit of, I was questioning myself and then lashed out at you.”

“Yeah, no, I get it. I’m sorry for how I behaved too,” it was your turn to do some admitting. “I try—I try so hard to look perfect around you. I don’t know why I do it, I just do. Even though I know that you know who I am or how many fights I’ve been in, or how I sleep in class or don't tuck in my shirt or whatever. For some reason, it bothers me. What you think of me bothers me. I care so much about it—and I don’t know, after weeks of some normalcy, that fight shattered everything. There was blood on my hands, literally—”

“I’ve seen you fight before.”

“What?”

“Y/N, every student has seen you punch someone at least once in their school year, I’m no different,” Tzuyu said, wearing an almost maternal smile.

“No, yeah, I know. I know that,” you mumbled the last bit of the sentence, “it just bothers me is all.”

“Hmm?” Tzuyu tilted her chin up in question, but you just shook your head. For a moment, she narrowed her eyes, hoping you’d expand. When you didn’t, she spoke again. “For what it's worth, I admire your courage. I mean I can’t say I approve of the method, literally,” Tzuyu paused to point at her prefect badge. “But I am yet to see you fight for the wrong matter.”

When you just stared at her, Tzuyu cleared her throat.

“That’s all,” she said, returning to her piles.

“Was it you?”

Tzuyu was forced to look up at you again. Her mouth twitching to ask the question innocently, even though she knew what you were talking about.

“The cushioning spell,” you clarified.

“It would seem so,” Tzuyu cleared her throat again and walked over to a nearby shelf with a book.

“Thank you,” you said, as genuinely as you could. Tzuyu only mumbled back her acknowledgement.

After that, the pair of you got into a comfortable silence.

What had you been so worried about?

Your conversation with Tzuyu couldn’t have gone smoother. She said her part, you said yours, neither of you had anything to apologize for, nothing of substance. Yet both of you had agonized over it the last week or so. You, so much so, your hand had begun quivering the moment you started thinking about her. How ridiculous, you thought as you raised your left arm to shelve away another book.

Besides, what had been there to worry about?

You felt so stupid.

“I feel kind of stupid,” you startled when Tzuyu sidled up to you, placing another book on a shelf above yours. “I feel like we were worried about nothing, thinking back on it.”

“Game season,” you added, “tensions were high… we were stuck in our heads.”

You paused to think about the same string of words your friends repeated to you, over and over and over again.

“It happens,” you concluded and she chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

Your detention had gone past much faster than an hour-long lesson would. So quick, you sort of missed the atmosphere. Just you and Tzuyu at the library, alone (well, with enough imagination that is), shelving books side by side in silence. Time seemed frozen and it was comfortable. As you grabbed your bags and stepped outside the library, the sounds of rushing students filtered and you had to bite back the disappointment. You had to head back to class when you only longed for more time with Tzuyu.

“Excited for Transfiguration?” Tzuyu asked, her voice pitched up with mischief. “You just look so… zealous.”

You raised an eyebrow while she tried to tamp back her growing smile.

“How do I actually look?” you asked, a smile of your own growing.

“Like you're going to throw up,” she straightened, looking forward.

“That seems more accurate,” you said, taking a glance at Tzuyu’s profile. She was still trying to reign in her smile. But when someone pointed at the pair of you, she acted as if she were brushing at her nose, and quickly her smile disappeared. Her and her carefully orchestrated mask. You decided to toy with her, to crack through it, you deserved such joy. Even if it came at your expense. “Now that I think about it, I am excited for Transfiguration.”

Tzuyu hummed her question, her head tilting subtly as her eyes never wavered from the parting crowd ahead of you. Should you do it here?

“Well, I’ll finally get to talk to you again,” her eyes narrowed as she turned to you in the slightest. “I missed you.”

Something like a squeak escaped Tzuyu’s lips and in an instant, she clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes darted around, measuring and calculating. But even if she showed no overt sign, the rising rouge blush was a marker for the effect your words had on her.

Good.

You pressed a palm to your cheek, you were burning up too. You figured as much.

“Yeosang not a good teacher?” Tzuyu tilted her head up, her eyes glimmering. You had to admit, she was good.

“Pales in comparison to you,” you said and grinned when you saw Tzuyu struggle to not grin back. “But who wouldn’t?”

“That’s enough of your flattery,” she huffed, picking up her pace. “It won’t get you anywhere. Don’t try it.”

“I’m not trying anything.” Why were you smiling so much? You should stop, your cheeks hurt.

Even with whatever game you and Tzuyu were playing, you didn’t miss the way people murmured around you. A singular glance behind your back showed most turning away and shushing their friends. Shouldn’t they be in class?

Shaking your head, you turned your attention back to Tzuyu.

She had stopped at the entrance to Lee’s class. She was waiting for you. Her hand tightened around the strap of her bag, twisting and untwisting. You quickened your pace to meet her there.

“Speaking of Transfiguration,” she glanced at the door just as you stopped in front of her. “I have something for you.”

She opened her book bag and rummaged through it, before pulling out a textbook.

Your textbook, soiled and tarnished, but it was your Transfiguration textbook.

“I found it on the grass later that day,” she handed it to you. “Cleaned it up and had to let it dry. Would’ve returned it to you earlier but we…”

“Weren’t being mature.”

“I was going to say we weren’t on speaking terms,” she chuckled as you took the book from her. You flipped through the pages. Yes, some were dirtied but Eunbi’s notes still remained, only slightly muddled, though with her handwriting it didn’t really change too much. “But that works too.”

Closing the book, you looked at her. “Thanks.”

Tzuyu looked at you, somewhat unsure. Then her glance shifted down the corridor, her eyes steely as the last of the juniors rushed away. Even though she was doing her job, you noted for what it was. A minute distraction from you.

Then it clicked in your head.

The library. The silence. The longing.

The answer couldn’t have been more clear.

“Tzuyu.”

For the first time, you reached out. First.

“Teach me,” you said, “be my tutor.”

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: call me hamilton the way im writing these chapters non-stop ! would you believe me if i said i wrote 13, 14 and 15 back to back within like 4 days ? i certainly wouldn't believe me :P anygays have a good day/night everyone !!

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @tatliegilim @nanabongos @pandafuriosa60 @eternallyghosting

send an ask to be added !

#mishaps gone right #mala’s collection #sanccharine #tzuyu x reader #twice x reader #twice fluff #tzuyu fluff #jype twice #twice imagines #tzuyu imagines

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