#......anyway sorry to everyone on my dash I will continue to not be normal about this movie for the next 2-3 days

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi don't mean to bother you but I wish to know if you were going to continue the yandere kny cat.

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You’d been so antsy lately you almost forgot to actually meet your new landlord

Apparently due to some unfortunate circumstances your old landlord had died was murdered

And his son has come to run the place instead rather than having the whole system shut down and everyone evicted

You were anxious because your baby Magenta was nowhere to be found

He didn’t even come home when you left catnip on your doorstep

Despite all that you made or bought some cookies for the new guy

And aren’t you surprised when you come face to face with those eyes

“M-magenta?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh uh sorry! It's just your eyes…they’re very pretty.”

“Well, thank you. Care to come inside?”

He’s trying to act normally like his heart isn’t pumping with such intensity

To think you’d recognize him so quickly 

Even in his experience going undercover as a human not too many spoke about his eyes 

At least not in a positive light

When he finally waves goodbye he’s reeling with intensity 

There is something so much more exciting about experiencing you like this

Your shorter than him 

So much smaller than him 

So fragile compared to him

Demon or not you’re so weak 

He can’t have you out here unprotected 

With that in mind he waits until you’re out 

Before letting himself in to see the stern-faced cat of Giyuu Tomioka waiting near the door:

“I was waiting for you to trespass. I wonder can you even understand me now.//”

“I can.” 

At his words he lifted his hat letting his cat ears and lengthy tail out. Flicking, agitated he moved to let himself further into your home only to be stopped by the black cat hopping from his post on the counter to stalk in front of him. He glared into the deep blue eyes of the black tomcat before gliding him away with his foot. 

“Where are the kittens?”

“Why?//”

He growled, further letting himself into the house making a beeline towards your room. Ignoring the resounding hisses he let himself into your room. Expecting to see the kittens curled up on your bed and pillows, a position he typically ushered them to, only to find a completely different scene.  

“Oh Master! I’m happy to find you so close to your true form!//”

A blonde turkish angora with rainbow eyes was currently dangling a burgundy kitten off the bed by his collar. Nezuko was swatting at the bigger cat while Rui seemed to have awoken at his entrance immediately mewing positively at him.

“Doma put him down.”

“Yes sir!”

Unceremoniously dropping him, the cat proceeded to fully turn and stand at attention towards Muzan. Thankfully Tanjiro’s descent was halted by Giyuu dashing in to catch him by scruff. With a growl and bristled tail he carried him out the room immediately being followed by Nezuko who shot him a glare of her own. 

“Why are you here Doma?”

“One of (Y/n)’s friends have decided to go on a trip for work, so she left me here in the meantime.”

“I see.”

Doma stood at the foot of the bed, waiting for Muzan to give him orders or something only to find that the demon king was quite occupied. Holding the pillow to his face he aggressively sniffed letting his imagination run wild as he recalled smelling it on you during your last visit. Moving on, he used his enhanced sense of smell to guide him to your wardrobe. Folded with clothes and underwear he wasted no time rubbing them on himself specifically on his sweatglands-near his neck face. Completely focused he missed the increasing meowing his subordinates were doing. 

“M-master w-what are you doing?!//”

“I-I spent all morning scenting those Master? Can’t I have a little bit, since I am going to be leaving soon anyway.//”

Muzan didn’t stop what he was doing, only turning his head to deliver his aggressive glare making Rui and Doma bow their heads in submission. 

“Don’t be bold. When I’m here I’m the only one allowed to imprint my presence.”

“But you left!//” 

The accusatory remark came from Tanjiro who was barging back into the room with Nezuko right behind. Giyuu also peeked around the corner, seeming to have tried to stop him. Muzan seemed annoyed at the statement, turning wholly to look at the burgundy kitten. 

“You left (Y/n) and us all alone, how can we even trust you?//” 

“Tanjiro!//” 

Giyuu scolded him as he watched Muzan’s face remorph into one of anger; he moved to stand beside his junior only to be stopped by Doma who was standing on guard with his own way of smirking. 

“You’re such a kitten! Don’t you realize what I’ve done?”

He abandoned his scenting, looking down at the kitten who was continuing to glare at him completely unphased. 

“I got rid of that cockroach that kept sneaking in here! Do you think I should have just let him be when I could have gotten rid of him?!”

“No, but we could have gone about things another way!//” 

“Like what?! And what do you know! I’m hundreds of years older than you!”

“Well I’m not a monster that just kills all their problems!//”

“You say that but aren’t you the one that promised to ki-”

“ENOUGH!//” 

Giyuu meowed, bringing Tanjiro’s and Muzan’s fight to a halt. Both still seemed plenty worked up so Giyuu spoke again.

“Didn’t we agree that we leave all of that for home!? Just leave it. The only thing we focus on is protecting (Y/n)!//” 

The air between them seemed to calm as both Muzan and Tanjiro closed up on themselves. Giyuu shot the kitten a look and if that wasn’t enough Rui who was no longer on the bed swatted at Tanjiro who huffed before turning back to the cat-human. 

“I’m…sorry for misunderstanding you.//”

“And I forget that you're a kitten sometimes, must be the human side of this body.”

Everyone grimaced at the not-so-much apology before collectively breathing in a sigh of relief when Muzan began to smile at him.

“I have no intention of staying away from (Y/n) after all. So it’s best you get used to me.”

“Oh babies I’m home!”

Both dread and excitement ran through everyone as they realized that you were in fact home from work. Doma wanted to dart off toward you only to be held back by Giyuu who motioned towards Muzan who was very much still a cat-human who was digging through your drawers. Running around frantically Rui was raving about how they were supposed to hide him, Nezuko was getting worked up and proceeded to run around just as wildly leaving Tanjiro to chase her and try and stop them. All the while your steps increase as your sweet voice calls out for them as it was strange that they hadn’t greeted you at the door. 

“Babies, where are you guys? Are you guys all hanging out in the bedroom?”

Your steps grew louder as Giyuu tried to rationalize what to do. You finally stepped into the room watching the kittens run around on the floor with your black, blue eyed tomcat trying to ignore the rainbow eyed cat. A drawer in your wardrobe was open and came to find someone familiar digging through it.

“Magenta!? Where have you been, sweet baby!? Awww did you get bigger?!”

You scooped up the shorthair cuddling into him as he nuzzled into you. Turning right out the room you too focused on showering your returned cat you missed the prideful look he sent towards the stunned looking cats. 

“Did you know he could do that?//”

“...No…But I wish I did.//”

[cram-cram]

Bonjour everyone

So, I am here today to yap about ZZZ because Y E S

I made two tier lists and I shall comment on them because why not

This post will be for the first tier list, which is regarding playstyle, while the other post will be for companion quests. So let's get to it!

So, you could say I like fast playstyles but then BOOM, Anton (he doesn't have a fast playstyle per say, but it is very fun still). So, let's tacke each tier

Fun playstyle, feels great and satisfying to play

For this tier, we have:

→ Billy - fast playstyle leaning playstyle with certain gimmicks that I find super fun. His signature W-Engine, in my opinion, enhances his playstyle by incentivating the player to do his beyblade dash attack more often (the Engine's passive buffs attack for 10 seconds after doing a dash or basic attack). His skill does a HUGE ammount of damage and, when put in a team he has resonance with, using his skill before the burst will buff the burst's damage (and if you burst AFTER a chain attack, the burst ALSO gets buffed!). So, in general, really fun to play! Love dodging with him by just... Pressing a movement key while he's in his crouched state (yes you can do that), it makes me feel like a pro (it fails 90% of the time). Fun fact! Billy is one of the fastest running units in the game after Lycaon and Ellen I believe! So ye, love my lil' android man, he's amazing

→ Ellen - Another one with a fast leaning playstyle!(Did you notice I have a preferred gameplay type?) But her playstyle is SUPER fun, albeit I'm still fetching her gimmick. The fact that you should dodge, continue sprinting, and THEN attack instead of doing a normal dodge counter is a bit tricky, but as you play her more, you manage to get used to it. Ellen's playstyle is very forward imo, which isn't a bad thing at all. Enter stalk mode, hold attack to charge the scissors, let go, get basic attack stacks, basic attack, repeat. While I don't have her signature (didn't have enough time to fetch it, augh) the Engine I use, starlight knight, is very good, since it buffs dash attacks and basic attacks as well (made for her and Billy eh?). I also love her burst animation and I usually play her with Lucy and Soukaku for big pp damage. Highly recommend getting her on her rerun if you missed her on her banner!

→ Anton - BABYGIRL I LOVE YOUU! Anyways, his playstyle was VERY confusing at first, but you get the hang of it rather easily. His main souce of damage comes from his burst mode (not actual burst, but skill activation). Once in that mode, he will do constant electric damage, but you need to pay attention to his energy meter because, once it reaches zero, you're back to dealing physical damage. While off field, with his resonance passive activated, Anton will regain energy. Other ways to regain energy WHILE in burst mode is to assist with him. As soon as you hear the attack noise + see the glow, press space and his assist counter will refill part of his energy meter! His actual burst is also SUPER satisfying to use, doing big damage in an aoe. I was using the summer event weapon on him before getting his signature and GYATT he was doing some VERY good damage (he's not even properly built as of rn). Tldr, Anton, while having a playstyle that requires a bit of time to do damage, is very rewarding when the big pp damage mode is on.

→ Qingyi - Soldier 11 I hate you for making me lose my 50/50 to you... QINGYI IS SO FUN TO PLAY! Genuinely speaking, her playstyle is SO fun, love me some stun units (I don't have any stun units that I use, sorry Anby). Qignyi also has a fast and to the point playstyle. Just keep pressing basic attack until she enters tazer mode and then hold the button once the little gold bar beneath her energy is gold. Big pp dmg and the stun is great. I love her dodge counters too (I have only played her on quests and trials, but gosh I love playing with her). In general, there's nothing much I have to say about her playstyle, it's direct and rather simple. Just zap ppl, fill up gold bar, hold attack button, do damage. Great playstyle, I will get her on her rerun.

→ Caesar - FUN SHIELDER LET'S GOOOO. Fast playstyle on the basic attacks but that is not her purpose (you could absolutely play her as a dps tho). Her shield build off of her impact, which I found very interesting and fun! To play her, you just counter an incoming attack with her skill (shield) and press it again. Bam, shield is on, time to swap out! However, I recommend you keep her on field a bit longer and do a held attack before leaving. Why? Well, her held attack, the spinning shields, gather small-medium enemies into a horde, making it easier to attack them in one go! She's great in teams that have characters that can do aoe dmg, so I highly recommend her for literally ANY team that has a physical or sons of callydon character (such as Piper, Lucy, Corin, Jane or even Billy). One negative point tho, there are no A rank or B rank Defence W-Engines with an Impact substat, the only one is her signature. So, if you want the W-Engine buff, I highly recommend getting her signature, unless ZZZ plans on launching another A rank defence engine with impact substat (which I find unlikely).

→ Piper - *signs the entirety of the beyblade opening*. But yeah, that's her gameplay, LMAO. Albeit being ok the slower playstyle side, she is still very fun to play. You can spam her basic attack and use the section in which she jumps to avoid enemy attacks or ya can just, y'know, dodge them. Since she's an anomaly character, her dmg lies in anomaly buildups and procs. Do three of her basic attacks and press her skill (when glowing) and she will enter her fast spinning mode faster, acquiring stacks. Those stacks, when her resonance passive is on, buff her and her teammates' anomaly dmg when doing the physical anomaly reactions. She's great for solos (I solo'd the Dead End Butcher on Hollow Zero with her but hey, it's Hollow Zero lol) and just fun to play in general. Love spinning with her and hearing the SHING sound when she procs and Assault reaction.

→ Grace - ELECTRIC GRENADEEEE. Also fast style gameplay, just normal attack with her, wait for her bombs to charge up beneath her energy meter, wait for glowing skill, BAM. Swap her out for your electric dps. That's her playstyle frfr, just NA, skill, leave. Albeit being having a rather... Short time on screen, she does HUGE damage with her skill due to being an anomaly character (the ammount of times she got the MVP because of her shock procks are not listed). She's a great Electric character support and is just fun to play in general. Just be aware that she has a rather smoll ammount of hp, she's very frail.

→ Jane - normal attack, charge passion, held to spinn. Essentially piper but normal attack instead of skill. Her Assault procks are great and her dmg is just, MWACK, phenomenal. Fast playstyle with very smooth moves that make even FIGHTING against her difficult. The enemies are legit just... Tanking a thousand blades. Again, albeit being straight to the point, the fact of how fast you hit enemies and the shing sound of the anomaly procks are just prefection, love it, very satisfying to just put the enemies in the Jane blender (she fr blends them up with how fast she attacking, we gonna have enemy smoothie at this point).

Good playstyle, also fun to play

→ Burnice - she also has a very fast paced playstyle but I don't feel the vibes to put her on the tier above. Love that she pirouettes with her flamethrowers and that, to charge her basic attacks (there's a meter beneath her energy meter) you have to press the skill to just burn the enemies with her flamethrowers. Very straightforwards, very fun to play, just doesn't scratch the funky itch for me, but her playstyle is great! Pair her with Caesar and you'll have a great time burning everything to the ground.

→ Nekomata - SHING SHING SHINNG. Fast kitty has the zoomies and she is going to turn you into sashimi. Again, only played her on her quest and on the trials, but her playstyle, while being fast, doesn't hit as much as the others. Love how fast she goes, love how she just slides on the floor while slashing the enemy's kneecaps, but it just doesn't scratch the itch as much as the others... Very good and fun still tho!

→ Rina - press her skill and leave the field. That's it, that's her gameplay. She's mainly here because of how fluid her moves are and how good it feels to use her on the few moments she's on field. Her purpose is solely to buff pierce, but she still manages to have a fun and fluid playstyle while fitting that role perfectly. Wife, please come home, your W-Engine is waiting...

→ Lycaon - while he has fast attacks, that's not how you're supposed to play him. It's a bit tricky and I was considering lowering him a bit, but he's fun still so he stays here. The deal with his playstyle is that you have to hold the attack button so that Lycaon can do ice damage, otherwise is just physical, so keeping the ice combo is a bit complicated (skill issue on my end mb). Still, while being a bit slower due to that little gimmick, he still mantains his fun factor.

→ Lucy - HIT EM WITH THE BAT, GURL. But yeah, her gameplay is also very to the point, wait for her skill to start glowing, hold it, swap out and enjoy the attack buff. You can also build her with crit, since once her resonance passive is active, her little boars will inherit her crit ratio, doing damage alongside your on field dps. So I'd say is worth it to try and build her with a bit of crit, just for her boars' sake. I find it rlly funny that she just... Hits her children boars with the bat, and the hit is SO STRONG that they come back down like a fiery comet. Lucy, hun, pls take better care of your babies-

→ Koleda - NYOOOOOOOOMMMM. GIRLY IS FAST! But like, where the fire dmg at-. Love the weapons, love her hits, love her speed but... She's just a physical character with some fire stuff. I came to that realization while playing with her on a trial on the new event thingy we have at the HIA headquarters. She attacks rlly fast, but 90% of those attacks deal phys dmg instead of fire, with her only fire dmg hits being the end of her basic combo, skill and burst. She's still fun, but the lack of fire saddens me a bit.

→ Corin - smoll delicate gurl with beeg chainsaw, love her. Her playstyle is a bit on the slower side and she thrives in dealing repeated damage due to her chainsaw. Majority of her damage comes from her skill, where she keeps the steadiest grip I've ever seen on her weapon as she walks, hitting whatever the fuck is in her way. While it's fun, yes, it's also a bit... Boring at times, I think? Idk, I loved playing her at the beginning, with her hitting bitches around with her chainsaw, but nowadays, since I don't play her much, whenever I use a trial her I'm like "I mean... It's fun, but she only has like, one attack variation and her dodge attack is kinda... Meh" idk why, but she's still fun

→ Soldier 11 - I hate you, I hate you so much, you have no flavor but... Your playstyle is actually a bit fun. Her fire damage is WAAAY more present and, even tho I don't play her (I refuse to) the few times I had to I had a surprising amount of fun. Like, yes, she's almost a carbon copy of Anby, but she's a faster fire version of Anby, which makes her a bit more satisfying to play in my books (I'm so sorry Anby)

A slightly clunky but still solid playstyle

→ Soukaku - yes, I know she's a support, but her skill is a bit clunky to use imo. You have to use it three times in order to get the max buff she can provide, yet her skill activation time is so slow and leaves her vulnerable to enemy attacks. While yes, she has INSANE interruption res while using her skill, the vulnerability while releasing her ice circles (when she waves her weapon like a tennis racket) is very annoying to me. Like, should I give her more hp? Probably. Will I? No, she gets the attack, deal with it.

→ Nicole - same thing as Soukaku. Her skill is great, love the suck and the aoe, but why is it SO SLOW TO CHARGEEEE. GIRLY POP, YOU'RE VULNERABLE TO THE ENEMY DAMAGE, CHARGE THAT GUN BAG FASTER! As you can see, I don't like slower playstyle characters, it takes a LOT for me to like them. But besides her skill, her playstyle is ok. Don't use her so often besides trials and when the game forces me, but yeah, I'm not rlly... A fan of her playstyle (love her character tho)

Playstyle is clunky

→ Ben - he is, quite literally, the SLOWEST character in the game. His attack animations are great but... I just don't like his playstyle. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Ben as a character, but his playstyle just... Rlly doesn't hit home for me. Yeah, his skill is fun, but I keep forgetting to press it twice instead of only once.

→ Anby - girl... Girl I'm so not counting how many attacks you did to do your electric charged. Like, "once she's done four attacks, hold the attack button to-" BITCH YOU THINK I COUNT? Like, I understand if you love Anby, me too! I love her character! But... Why, why do I have to count to properly use her... My brain needs stimuly, not mathematics 😭 I'm so sorry Anby

→ Zhu Yuan - why are you so clunky. I rlly just don't like her playstyle, it feels so... Clunky and choppy and NOT FUN to me. I completely understand if you like her playstyle, that's great, but I just rlly can't bring myself to enjoy it. When I tested her I already felt soooo icky, she felt so choppy and rigid to play like, why... I know she's a cop and her moves are precise, but Qignyi, who's also a cop, plays smoother than her imo

Playstyle feels stiff and non enjoyable

→ Seth - Seth... Seth my love... I am so sorry... I rly don't like his playstyle. His dash attack? Confusing. His skill? Takes SO LONG to charge and also leaves him vulnerable to damage. And his normal attacks are like... Ok-ish? But he feels so stiff and clunky and I just can't enjoy myself while playing him... I'm so sorry Seth, but your playstyle, in my humble opinion, is shit. Not for me, 0/10, please never force me to use you again.

[magicamicitia]

Volume Two, Chapter 3

"We're supposed to be a team!"

Almost as if everyone had gotten altitude sickness, the air in the gymnasium felt desperately heavy. 

"What do you mean…?" Fluttershy’s voice trembled.

"It means," Kyubey enthusiastically shook its tail. "If your soul gem is shattered during a fight or lost in your daily life, I can't do much to assist you, but otherwise, no matter how deadly the injury, your physical bodies can be reconstructed eternally with magic!" 

"What in tarnation…" Applejack spoke up. "So you turned us into your personal scarecrows or somethin'?" 

"I suppose scare-witches would be more appropriate." He continued. "And speaking of them, I assume you now understand why collecting grief seeds is so important. It would be truly a shame if your bodies were damaged and you had no magic to spare. Besides, deadly situations like that rarely happen when you have enough power, so there's really no need to worry!"

"No need to worry?! You killed us! You killed us and then turned us into some kind of freakish reanimated magical corpses!" Rainbow Dash shouted. "I never agreed to any of this!"

"Well, maybe you should have asked." Kyubey rebutted.

"Why, you little…"

"No, we couldn’t." Twilight interrupted, finally speaking up. "I… can’t speak for the others, but when you offered me a contract, I was in no position to ask you about the specifics. You knew that, and you took advantage of it."

Her words sparked some kind of dreadful feeling in Sunset Shimmer.

One day, Twilight Sparkle was living her normal life… and the next, saving her from witches as a magical girl. It was so sudden, Sunset almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing now. 

What happened to Twilight that night that was so dangerous and so abrupt?

If she was at risk, why didn’t she ask her for help?

Did Twilight herself not fully trust Sunset yet?

That didn’t make sense. All this time, Sunset had been the one protecting her, so why…

Huh?

…What was she protecting her from, anyway?

Her head started to ache terribly, and she couldn’t help but let out a groan. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." Rainbow Dash said sarcastically. "Are we bothering Miss Shimmer with all our screaming? You got a headache? This must all be so hard on you."

"N-No, I…"

"Rainbow, stop it. This isn’t her fault." Twilight responded. 

"Isn’t her fault? She almost killed Fluttershy!" Rainbow screamed.

"I almost killed Fluttershy." She gestured at her own chest as she spoke. "Just like you, I didn’t know about any of this, and neither did Sunset. Nobody here had ill intentions. I just wanted you all to give her a chance.." 

"Why exactly would we give her a chance after stealing our things?" Rarity questioned.

"That’s what I said!" Sunset added. "Listen, Twi. They don’t like me, and they don’t have to. It’s not like I’ve done anything to deserve it."

"But you have!" She held Sunset’s hands within her own, and she could feel Twilight was trembling. "You’ve changed, I know that better than anyone! If you just had a chance to prove it… We’re supposed to be a team!"

Sunset let go of her friend. 

"No, Twi. You’re supposed to be a team. I’m not a magical girl." 

Twilight didn’t say anything, and didn’t move. She just stood there, staring wide-eyed at nothing.

This time, Pinkie spoke.

"Yeah. You aren’t a magical girl. So… maybe you should leave."

Sunset didn’t reply. As her footsteps faded away into the halls, Applejack turned to Twilight.

"You know, I just can’t understand why you insist so hard on defending that awful girl."

"She’s not awful." She replied quietly.

"She’s a bully, Twilight."

"She saved my life!" 

Her shout echoed throughout the room.

"I know… She doesn’t act the nicest, she pushed me away at first, too. But… She had her reasons! If you just try and…" 

"Reasons?!" Applejack scoffed. "I don’t give a darn tootin’ heck about her reasons, she hurt me and my friends! You know, If you're gonna keep this up, maybe…"

"I gave my life for her." professed Twilight. "When I made my wish, I gave up my soul. And I did it for her. Are you saying I died for someone I shouldn’t have?"

"I…" She started to say something, but her words failed her.

"You wished for something, too. If I told you that what you chose to die for was awful, how would you feel?"

The room went silent for a moment, until a frail voice stuttered,

"Twilight… We understand how you feel. But… We need time to forgive Sunset Shimmer."

"Fluttershy…" Twilight didn’t finish. She just gulped in her words and nodded.

Then, she mumbled another sentence.

"I’ll leave."

Nobody had told her to do so, but as she walked away, nobody asked her to stay. 

She headed to the nurse’s office. The school day was only halfway through, and even though a part of her felt tortured that she was essentially bailing on her studies, she just wanted to go home, because her heart felt heavy every second she spent in that place.

Like it poisoned her very soul.

That thought caused Twilight to jolt back to reality, and she quickly took out the soul gem in her bag.

It was much more tainted than the last time she’d checked.

Which meant she would have to go witch hunting soon.

Kyubey had left out another crucial detail about soul gems. A detail that the others didn’t seem to know, but she did.

She knew it all too well. 

What happens when your soul gem turns completely dark…

Earlier, Twilight said that she died for Sunset when she made her wish. But now, thinking about it again, that day…

If she hadn’t wished, who’s to say Sunset would have spared her, or even recognized her at all?

[mchlgayser]

𓂃⭑ᜊ: SHE WASN'T A BOY?! ft jude bellingham

𓂃⭑ᜊ an: I write this the longest I think(?) I may or may not like this story but then again idk. It's one of my many 'random ideas' that just popped into my head, I hope you like it!! xx ( change of povs )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: content warning: none

𓂃⭑ᜊ: @iwritesjud3's masterlist

It's Saturday! The day Jude was finally able to meet his childhood friend again. Many moons ago when he was barely seven and started school he had a friend he loved to call as 'Dash', his soccer mate whom he met when he plays at the playground. They were inseparable, clinging onto each other all the time, their parents are coincidentally closed friends too.

Before Jude had Jobe as a brother this guy was his best mate but one year after that, 'Dash' had to moved in back to his old hometown, his grandparents live somewhere far Jude could not remember but ever since then he lost contact with the 'pretty eyes' boy.

But last night, his parents break the big news about his old friends coming back to town to continue studying and Jude was more than happy to follow them to the airport and fetch the L/ns.

Jude dressed in a simple shirt and black sweatpants, trod downstairs to see his parents already on the living room waiting for him. They got inside their car and left their residence to the airport.

Once arrived, Jude was the first to get out, already excited as he is to meet again with his childhood mate. They got to the departure area, and his parents immediately spotted the L/ns but someone's missing. Dash wasn't there.

He greeted them like normal and Dash's dad starts going on about how is he in his club and he politely answered them, eyes still roaming around the hall 'I'm sorry but where is Dash?' They both look at each other and then back to Jude 'Dash? ...Oh do you mean Y/n?' He was a bit taken aback, what Y/n? Who's that?

'No I mean by Dash, your-'

'There she is!' He swarms his head around to see a girl, around his age, hair y/h/c. He was stunned, was that Dash? His childhood mate? Like for real?

She stopped right in front of him and smile 'Hey Jude!' She had a kind and gentle smile but it was lazy too. Her eyes drooped, but it was shiny and so pretty, and her hair covered some parts of her face, not to mention the headphone that are on her head too. It was blocking his view.

He was not able to speak, too stunned by the sudden shocking information, does that mean that his best mate all this time had been a girl?! Like a real girl?! Y/n laugh at his old best friend's behavior 'What's up with you Judy?' You called him by his nickname and stoned.

Their parents excused themselves to let the two talks, Jude started first 'Who's Dash then?' Y/n glance at him and shrugged 'A character from The Incredibles, he was my childhood.' At this point, the poor boy was beyond shocked 'So you've been using 'fake name' and I had no clue?!' She laughs 'I was so obsessed back then, I just wanted everyone to call me that and it includes you.'

'But I thought I was special?' She snorted and cross her arms 'Everyone are the same, anyway.' Jude gaze at her for a good minute before they abruptly stopped by a cafe 'Want a drink?' He hums not resisting the girl's request. After all, they are not stranger but instead good, good friends.

Y/n ordered drinks for them and they sat by a table for two, 'So how're you now?' Jude asked her, she looked at him 'Good, not better. What about you? Other than still being so damn good at soccer?' A lace of sarcasm lingers in between her sentence, and this makes Jude laugh 'Nah, nothing new about me other than soccer, skills improving eh? And you, what you do now?'

'I play instruments, catching on a new hobby, been hooked up to music since then.' He slips a small 'Oh' and nods 'You make music too?'

'Yeah, composing and write lyrics,' Jude learned new things bout his friend.

Y/n's liking for soccer was just another phase in her life, she's been into music after she moved out, form a school band with her best mates, wrote original songs, and composed. She told him about the place she moved in, a village 70% filled with old people with scary appearances. Almost every night with no electricity, a phase in life she used to shower outside by her grandparent's well.

A time of life she'll never forget, as she said it. Moved back to London but still somewhere distant when she was thirteen and moved back out months later to Malaysia until now.

'Teach me a few words then!' Jude exclaimed and she smile 'What do you want to know?' He thinks for a moment before replying; 'How're you.'

'Apa khabar?' Jude repeated it with his thick accent making Y/n chortle 'That's terrible!' He scoff at her remark and rolled his eyes at her 'Want to try something else?'

'Nevermind!' He deadpanned, looking at her almost judging making her snort. Their drinks arrived sometime later and they took a sip 'This feels good in my throat!' She moaned in ecstasy.

They talk for more and catch up even deeper, and later, Y/n's parents ring 'Hello?' She picked up and eyed Jude 'Yeah sure!'

'They deserted us! Never mind I'll book us a cab and meanwhile, you can guide me around London and the places we used to go to. I missed it.' He warmly smiles 'That would be great!'

They finished their drinks and left the airport, thankfully Y/n's parents escorted her baggage, She and Jude went around without a specific destination, just paying the cab driver a huge amount of cash to bring them both wherever they ordered.

They went around every place their mind could think of, every spot and shop to reminisce back on the good memories. Eventually, the ride comes to an end when Jude directs the driver to a familiar playground area. The neighborhood was the same, the identical bakery across the street was still there, but the paint renewed from sky blue to cotton candy pink walls.

The swing, the slide but some plays are mostly new.

'This place, I met you under there and you were crying because your mom won't buy you an ice cream for you.' Y/n joked about as Jude elbowed her hastily on the stomach 'Ow! What?'

The two sat on the swing for hours and eating ice cream, the sun are about to set, the sky painted with orange and yellow-ish hue, the cloudless sky are filled with a flock of birds as the two filmed the scene in their mind, not wanting to forget this beautiful day.

'It was nice meeting with you again 'Dash'.' Jude confessed, still licking his ice cream cone, Y/n had the whole ice cream inside her mouth and hummed 'Yesh! Me too!' She get the ice cream out of her mouth and smiles 'Likewise.'

After hours spent there, they finally decided to go home, Jude insisted that the cab sent you home first so you accepted.

The ride was not silence, the faint radio background had you and Jude both singing to it, not loudly but enough to light up the night even more, already feel warm and comfy with each other, the next song rolling had both you and him silently squealing, it was So Sick by Ne-Yo.

'Now that I'm alone...'

'Thanks for today, I had a great time. It's nice to see you again, Judy!' He hugs your form and smiles into your shoulder 'I had a fantastic day today, despite being a little surprised that you weren't actually... You know, no D-word.' A loud laughter erupts from your mouth 'Stupid, but I'm glad you had a fantastic time.' You smile and tore off from the hug 'See you tomorrow!'

'Text me!' He yelled and waved over your direction. You waved back and smile.

[i-luvsang]

［ ☆ fakedating + meetcute!au — kim hongjoong

1K MILESTONE EVENT ☆ OPEN

¿ ｡′ for @matzstars , sorry omg my writing here kinda sUCKS LOL but i hope it's still enjoyable!! also mostly not proofread sOrry , gn!reader , fluff , cw: none , wc: 1.9K ！！

✧ it’s one of your close friends weddings, it’s actually kinda crazy because they’re your first friend to get married

✧ it’s a great reception though, the vibes are chill and their husband yunho’s side of the family/friends are very very nice and cool to be around

✧ so you’re just vibing on the dance floor having a good time

✧ you just might be a little tipsy, like nearly everyone around you, so it make sense that you might not be as balanced as you normally would

✧ and you, blissfully unaware of your immediate surroundings, find yourself squished up against someone whose face you remember seeing several times throughout the night, but who’s name you can’t quite remember

✧ there’s a slight grimace of pain on his face while his hands support your elbows to keep you from toppling over

✧ “oh! i’m so sorry!” you apologize, assuming you were the one that crashed into him “are you okay?”

✧ “it’s alright! i’m okay! you’re kinda still stepping on my food, though” he laughs good naturedly, clearly not upset or anything of the likes

✧ this time you pull yourself away from him immediately, letting a million apologies tumble out of your mouth as you do so

✧ “no no it’s alright!” he insists, telling you he didn’t want to pull his foot away for fear it’d make you trip again

✧ you grin at these words, taking in just how handsome he is

✧ “i apologize again though, i can’t seem to remember your name,” you tell him. “you’re one of yunho’s close friends right?”

✧ “yeah, i am! and don’t worry about that, i think we’ve all heard too many names to remember them all. i’m kim hongjoong. you’re y/n, if i recall correctly? afraid i can’t remember your last name though”

✧ “yep! that’s me. it’s l/n, if you happen to be curious. it’s nice to meet you, hongjoong!”

✧ “you as well!”

✧ at this point you’ve both drifted closer to the edge of the dance floor as to not disturb the others using the space for its actual purpose

✧ “would you like to sit down?” you ask, silently praying he’ll take you up on the offer

✧ “oh, yeah sure! sounds good to me, it was my friends who dragged me out to the dance floor anyways”

✧ so of course the two of you find a place to sit and begin to just casually talk about yourselves to get to know the other better, because for some reason or another, it’s easy and comfortable to talk with each other

✧ and whether it be out of interest or the other or just because the setting of a wedding made the subject arise easily, your conversation drifts to romance in your own lives

✧ quickly, you both come to know that neither one of you is taken or even interested in someone else

✧ but you do mention to him your arguably poor fate in being forced on blind dates as often as your friend can make it happen

✧ you’re aware not everyone gets the chance to meet so many people, but you admit to him that blind dating just isn’t your scene, because you much more prefer to know someone well before going on dates

✧ the conversation continues to flow naturally, when he tells you he know’s just what you mean

✧ the same friend you insisted he have fun on the dance floor, wooyoung, has reportedly been trying to get hongjoong to attend a blind date, even after the last one was a bit of a disaster

✧ the both of you chuckle at your shared misfortunes, but let the topic flow elsewhere until you’re interrupted by you’re well-meaning, but often overbearing friend

✧ “y/n!” they chirp as they stoll up to you

✧ you wave at them cheerfully, assuming they sought you out just to say hi

✧ but that hope is dashed when you hear the tone of voice they uses as they tells you their sorry for interrupting but they just had to let you know before they forgot again

✧ “there’s this guy i want you to meet. he’s a busy guy so i’m not sure when he’ll be able to meet, but i’m pretty sure he makes a lot of money but i knew him in college he’s really nice. brunch would be fine right? he likes breakfast foods”

✧ “babe, i love you, but no! i told you i’m really done with this blind date thing. i know you mean well, but please?”

✧ they pout a bit, relenting just a bit “okay okay, just think about this one, yeah? i’ll send you a picture and let you know when he’s available”

✧ “go ahead, but i mean it i’m not going!” you insist

✧ “alright, alright. i hope you’re having fun tonight! i’ll text you later. and not just about the guy, i promise” they bid you goodbye with a polite acknowledgement towards hongjoong before disappearing back into the crowds of people

✧ hongjoong speaks up just seconds later “listen, i don’t want to overstep my bounds, but, if you’re willing to hear it i’ve got an idea that might help us both”

✧ you raise an eyebrow in curiosity, urging him to tell you this idea

✧ he suddenly looks shy and a little hesitant, but he goes on anyways

✧ “i know you said you like to know people well before dating them, and i 100% agree so i’m absolutely not suggesting we actually date, but if you wanted… we could pretend to be dating to get our friends off of our backs, maybe? or even to just say we’re interested in the other if that’s too much. i’m not normally the type of person to suggest that kind of thing, but i just thought, i don’t know, maybe it would actually work and–”

✧ at this point he’s rambling, a bit nervous to hear your response maybe, so you decide to cut him off to settle his nerves as best as you can

✧ “hongjoong that’s actually a really good idea. i wouldn’t normally say yes, you know, but i think we could pull it off.”

✧ he grins and tells you that he’s glad you like the idea

✧ “but just so you know, you can back out of it whenever you want. and let’s revisit this decision tomorrow. i want to be sure we both think it makes sense when we’re not tipsy.”

✧ you smile back and tell him that’s very considerate and smart of him. “that sounds perfect. if we still feel like it, we can start to figure out the details sometime this week maybe?”

✧ he nods, glad to know you can both easily agree on the most responsible course of action

✧ you spend practically the rest of the night chatting with each other, happily exchanging contact info and parting ways with the promise of texting to next day

✧ it’s even easier than you would have expected for the two of you to hash out the “rules” of your fake relationship, just because the two of you find each other to be increasingly like minded the more you talk

✧ the story is easy too; you met at the wedding and instantly felt attracted to the other and now you’re in the talking stage

✧ honestly, from the very get-go it’s just a bit hard for you to figure out just how fake this all is, because it’s certainly not a lie to say you felt attracted to him when you met

✧ but either way, you were grateful for the guise of it being fake, because you weren’t quite ready for commitment just as you had mentioned to him when you first met

✧ plus, the excuse comes in handy quite quickly, when, as promised, your friend texts you about that guy they mentioned just a little over a week later

✧ and before you know it, just about every single one of your friends is aware of your “relationship” with hongjoong, and with your newly married friend being one of those people, hongjoong’s friends hear the news too in no time

✧ it becomes only a matter of time before you’re asked to appear in public together, when wooyoung quite literally insists that hongjoong take you with him to a night out

✧ hongjoong tells you that you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but you insist that it is what the agreement is for anyways

✧ and besides, who are you to turn down time with him

✧ it turns out that you’re not so confident the night of; suddenly the thought of lying in front of all of his friends is making you nervous

✧ or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re meeting all of his friends like this is what’s making you nervous–for some reason you want them to like you

✧ when you comes to pick you up, you’re officially just a ball of jittering nerves, and he’s quick to notice

✧ he sends you a comforting smile as he opens the car door for you, and the second you’re both settled, he reminds you that you still don’t have to go

✧ but you insist it’s alright, so he starts the car and turns on the radio so you’ll have something to listen to

✧ once you get close to the restaurant, he gives you gentle reassurance, telling you that, regardless of this being a fake relationship, his friends will love you

✧ you’d be lying if you said his words didn’t help, but what helps far more when you step out of the car is the way he grabs your hand after asking quietly for permission to do so

✧ he leads you inside, and then spends all night making sure you’re as comfortable as possible

✧ and by the end of the night, both of you would be lying to say that the subtle touches and sweet words that you shared with each other didn’t feel far more natural than the definition of “fake” that you had agreed to label your relationship as

✧ yet, you let that label drag out; every outing is full of your casual flirting and comfortable hand holding, but you both refrain from anything of the likes the second you’re alone

✧ and quite frankly, you’re beginning to get tired of it, because god, you are just itching to kiss his handsome face

✧ so one night after another hang out with your friends, you ask him to accompany you to your door

✧ he happily obliges, walking with you until you halt before going inside

✧ “joong..” you only call him that when you’re around others

✧ “i– yeah? is there something i can do for you? is this not working for you anymore? just let me know, you know i just want you to feel comfortable, so we can call this off whenever you need.”

✧ you have to hold back a small giggle at his hastiness to make sure you’re alright. “no, no it’s not like that. at least not the way that you think,” you begin

✧ “i’m– i’d like to kiss you, if that’s alright. because i’d rather we call this off as fake, and relable it as real.”

✧ he can barely hold back his grin, and he most definitely can’t hold back his blush as he tells you that he’s beyond glad you said so

✧ “i’d like to kiss you too. you know, if that’s alright with you?”

✧ this time you do let out a small laugh. “of course that’s alright.”

[mrbexwrites]

Thoughts on Beta Readers

Apologies in advance if this turns into a bit of a ramble; I've had a lot of thoughts in my head, and I needed to somewhere to formulate them into a coherent stream.

I made this writblr page about a year ago after realising that I have written loads of stories, but never really thought about sharing them. I still don't know what I'm ultimately going to do with any of them- I don't think I have the skills/fortitude to go through Trad or Indie pub, nor the stamina and/or headspace for self-pub and trying to be my own hype/marketing person just doesn't appeal to me.

I like the writing part of writing; not so much anything else, as anyone who has seen any of my other posts will attest to! I think in just about every post I've ever published, it's just me grumbling about editing!

Anyway- sorry, I digress (in my defense, I did say that this would be a rambling post, so you only have yourself to blame if you've made it this far into my diatribe!). I've only been brave enough to share snippets of my WIPs through tag games, and everyone who had liked, commented or reblogged something- has given me that little dopamine spike and helped me find some courage to share my work.

I put out a call for beta readers, and some amazing people have taken the time and effort to read something that I've written.

I'm not a confident person, and I really worried that my story was garbage. I think I've stared at the documents so many times, that I could no longer see the woods from the trees. There were bits that I wasn't happy with, but couldn't figure out why. I was worried that I didn't have enough research under my belt to handle sentitive topics. Some sections felt too heavy, or dull. I found my own writing boring, my characters bland, scenes didn't gel, action felt disjointed etc etc.

Basically, I was in a bit of a tailspin, or a slump, a funk...and I didn't know how to dig myself out of the hole that I'd managed to clamber into. Normally, when I finish a WIP, it's done, and I don't do anything with it. It just stays in my docs folder, and backed up to an external hard-drive.

Rather than just continuing to stare at a document for hours, wondering what to do, I found my beta readers, and sent my first draft over to them (hoping that I'd managed to find all typos- lol, that didn't happen. Typos still managed to escape me -_-' )

I've seen several posts on my dash from folk complaining about interaction and the writblr community. My posts don't get a lot of engagement, which is fine (not trying to join a pity party- just stating facts!) but I've found that the interaction that I do have from followers, mutual or random folk has been really meaningful.

I've gone from dreading sharing my work, to being excited to post snippets, and being tagged in games, getting to see what everyone else has been working on. (I appreciate that I'm a bit of a hypocrite, as I'm not very good at engaging with others on this site- I worry about coming across as a complete weirdo creep, and I struggle to find new ways of saying 'omg, I love this, show me more' in the tags! Or to think of asks to send, even though several people diligently send me asks every week! I'm trying to get better, I promise!)

Sorry- rambling again. I just...adklsdfgskhdfh

I'm honestly gobsmacked by the effort that my beta readers put into my WIP, and the kind comments, feedback and suggestions that they've made. I genuinely believed that I would get ' meh, it was okay' in the best scenario that I'd worked out in my head. Their engagement and feedback has been so helpful and I appreciate it so much.

It's helped me identify the sticking points that I was having, why I was unhappy with some scenes, characters etc etc. They have really helped me take that step back, and re-evaluate things, rather than just staring at the screen and feeling like a deer in the headlights. I was so worried/scared about sharing an entire WIP, but it's been worth it.

So, if anyone is in the same boat as me- scared to take the plunge- dip your toe in the water. Share snippets, work up to finding a beta reader or two, get outside input, rather than just sitting and staring trying to work it out on your own.

There are a lot of people out there willing to share their knowledge, and help you get the most out of your story.

Special thank you to @sam-glade and @at-thezenith for taking the time to give me such thorough feedback. I honestly can't thank you enough for your input and comments.

I'm going to stop rambling now, before this gets any more unhinged!

TL;DR- don't be a little writblr gremlin, lurking in the shadows. Engage with the community, and because they're awesome, they'll help you out!

[ghastlybin]

Will you do skz Hyunjin where he is immortal but the reader is not? Thank you 💙💙

You just don’t want me to be happy.

(I’m jk LMAOO) but thank you for the request :) this is my first skz request & they are my ult male group so I was excited for this but also like… This concept makes me sad because?? I couldn’t think up an ending where EVERYONE is happy like??? Anyways, ily & thank you again for requesting <3

Pairing: Immortal! Hyunjin & Mortal! (GN) Reader

Feat: Immortal! (social worker?) Felix.

Word count: 1.7k

Genre/contents: Immortal AU, angst, I literally don’t see how this could’ve had a happy ending I’m sorry, a bit dialogue heavy

TW: Immortality bc why would anyone want that?, Car accident, descriptions of accident related injuries, D e a t h, blood mentions, hospital mention, it’s depressing y’all and I will be open for any hugs if y’all need one

Note: I love Hyunjin and I’m sorry to Hyunjin stans and Hyunjin stans specifically. This is also not a soulmate AU don’t let the whole soulmate bit fool you, that’s just for extra sap okay I hope you like it and I’m so sorry but you’re the one that asked for it HHHHHH I also love Felix too btw obviously. Btw, I put colored dashes to hint at who is speaking in case anyone gets confused. Any dialogue without a dash is a flashback.

Orange - Felix

Blue - Hyunjin

— “Hello, Hyunjin.”

— “Hello… Felix.”

— “You’re one of the immortal few?”

— “Yep.”

— “How long have you been here on this planet?”

— “Sorry, does this really matter?”

— “No. Just asking out of curiosity.”

— “Three hundred and twenty-five thousand years.”

— “Wow. This year would be year nine hundred, and fifteen for me. Any tips for a newbie?”

— “Don’t fall in love.”

— “Oh.”

— “Otherwise, you’ll be in the same spot as me.”

— “Um… Hyunjin. Mind if I ask you questions while we wait?”

— “Sure. Why not?”

— “Tell me about your happiest moment.”

— “Can I talk about a person?”

You knew Hyunjin was immortal. You knew you would be the only one out of the two of you that grew old, the only one that would inevitably perish.

You knew Hyunjin would have to watch you as you died if he opted to. He’d have to watch you go through the pains of aging, the pains of losing your loved ones while he and his family of immortals had lived on, and not a care in the world because his family members met their soulmates.

Their soulmates were immortal.

Hyunjin was the unlucky one.

He fell for a mortal, someone who he always thought deserved a normal partner, someone who could grow old with you and neither of you would have to live with the fact that only one of you would continue to live.

He was unlucky by immortality standards, but with you, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

If he could, he’d meet you over and over again and not change a thing.

He would go back in time and relinquish his immortality just to live out his days with you.

You weren’t someone he’d meet, fall in love with, and just forget.

Your memory would live on, as long as he continued.

‘May your next lover be as great as me.’

‘And may the afterlife be as great as me.’

Your voice was probably his favorite thing about you if he had to choose.

He loved how it sounded when you said his name, asked him questions he had answered many times before, or even hummed to the melodies of your favorite songs.

‘Hyunjin! Hyunjin! Hyunjin!’

Like a broken record in his mind, for thousands of years, your voice was his favorite sound.

Yet he only had a short amount of time to experience it.

— “They sound nice.”

— “More than nice. Amazing. Lovely. Exquisite. Breathtaking. Astonishing. Incredible. Spectacular. I could go on.”

— “I could see it in the way you spoke of them.”

— “Ha. Yeah. I guess I got lost in the memories.”

— “How did you two meet?”

You watched the soft splash of water your coin made as you tossed it into the wishing fountain.

Another soft splash and you soon met the gaze of a very handsome boy, who was the former owner of the second coin tossed into the fountain.

‘Do you think my wish will come true?’

‘What did you wish for?’

Hyunjin wasn’t sure why he asked you that at first. He had completely skipped a proper greeting. A simple hello.

‘If I tell you, it won’t come true.’

‘Well, I wished to be immortal.’

He didn’t like where the conversation was going. He knew the pains of immortality. How every friend he had, mortal, had been long gone.

‘Guess your wish won’t come true now.’

And you laughed, thinking he was joking.

He laughed with you, thinking you were joking.

Even now, he thought you were joking about your wish. He wished you weren’t.

‘I’m Y/N.’

‘Hyunjin.’

— “So you met at a wishing fountain?”

— “Mhm. It was famous for the most wishes coming true.”

— “Do you wish they hadn’t told you their wish?”

— “…All the time. Is that selfish?”

— “No. It’s not selfish to want someone you loved to still be alive.”

— “But if that meant they had to watch their loved ones dying before them?”

— “That’s… Not my place to say. I’m sorry.”

— “Oh. Alright…”

— “What did this person look like?”

— “I have pictures but I can’t bring myself to look at any yet. Strange, isn’t it? It’s been eight thousand years and one day and I still haven’t looked at them… It still hurts but I’ll show you.”

Hyunjin took copious amounts of pictures of you and sometimes of the two of you.

Everywhere you went, he would take a candid photo of you. He had a collection of photos of you in your ‘worst’ state and a collection of you in your ‘best’.

Some depict you in front of a tree, a statue, a building, some off guard, somewhere you were completely aware he was taking a photo but didn’t react, and somewhere you were photogenic when he would pull out his camera.

He took a photo of your favorite things, things you were neutral about, and things you hated- Never in a way to spite you either, he just wanted to keep track of any details about you that might slip him later.

Hyunjin knew he would eventually lose you. Whether it be death or a breakup, he knew.

Still, he liked keeping tabs. He liked taking pictures. He liked- Loved, you.

You were special to him. The love of his everlasting life.

— “Wow, you really captured their liveliness in these pictures.”

— “I think this one has to be my favorite.”

You were smiling the brightest you had ever smiled for a picture Hyunjin decided to take.

It was a moment you were most happy and Hyunjin recalled the feeling of gratitude he felt to be able to experience that with you.

‘Hyunjin! Hyunjin! Hyunjin!’

— “I’m sorry…”

— “It’s okay to cry, you know. I won’t judge.”

— “Thank you…”

— “I can stop if you want me to.”

— “No. It’s okay. It’s nice to talk about it.”

— “So… What do you miss the most about them?”

— “Everything.”

— “But if you had to choose one.”

— “Do I have to?”

The truth was Hyunjin couldn’t pick anything, in particular, he missed about you because he just missed you.

Time didn’t change anything except the state of the world.

In Hyunjin’s mind, he was still stuck in the past eight thousand years ago took place.

During you.

His world had stopped long ago. The day after you.

He just missed you. Nothing more, nothing less.

And what he would give to have at least one more day with you.

— “Everything counts as one thing. It’s just a bunch of little things jumbled together into one… Big thing.”

There was this void in his heart from you.

It sucked in every returning feeling or memory of you and created a bigger hole as time went on.

Nothing would change how he felt for you.

— “How did you lose them?”

— “Death. The usual.”

— “Follow up: How did they die?”

— “It wasn’t old age or natural causes.”

There was not a single word anyone could say to you for you to have known what would’ve happened.

There was nothing Hyunjin could’ve done to have known either.

You were sick, you needed medicine.

Hyunjin was busy, and besides, you never told him he was sick. That was just a detail he found out after.

You made the choice to drive to the nearest pharmacy. You chose to not tell Hyunjin either.

To this day, he never once blamed you for what happened. No matter how many signs pointed to you or your decisions, you weren’t distracted.

You had a plan. Drive to the pharmacy, get medicine, and recover before you saw Hyunjin again.

You wouldn’t have known that at that exact moment, it would be you, the road, and a drunk driver.

Hyunjin was the first to arrive at the hospital. He filled out your information, identified you, and he saw you.

Hooked to various machines, intubated as your lungs had to have been ruptured in the crash. Every broken bone you had, every bruise the impact caused to your body, the blood.

The blood. More than Hyunjin had ever seen before in his time of immortality.

‘Well, I wished to be immortal.’

The bandage around your skull had bled through, giving the doctors a hard time trying to keep you alive.

The blood. It didn’t stop. It didn’t go away.

‘Guess your wish won’t come true now.’

Hyunjin remembered the slow breaking of his heart followed by the slow, painful numbing that followed as he watched various doctors trying to resuscitate you, the machines showing an unchanging flatline.

‘Hyunjin! Hyunjin! Hyunjin!’

He remembered not knowing what to do when the doctors called your time of death, unable to resuscitate you.

You lost a lot of blood, your lungs were ruptured- collapsed, your skull was fractured, your heart had given up entirely, the bleeding.

Too much blood.

— “Hyunjin, I’m so sorry.”

— “You, me, the doctors, the drunk driver, everyone who knows what happened. All of us are sorry, and it still doesn’t change anything.”

— “Will relinquishing your immortality change anything?”

— “No. But I will get to meet them again.”

Thousands of years later, after he had lost you, you were his only one.

He never met with anyone after you. If he did, it never went any further.

He saw you everywhere, in everything, and yet it was only glimpses and then you’d be gone completely and out of his grasp.

He saw you in your favorite things, and places, he saw your favorite color painting his world.

He saw you in the wishing fountain he met you at, and even if you weren’t actually there, he held your smile in his mind.

Heard your laughing.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Hyunjin. I hope your wish comes true.’

He stared at the fountain of coins sunken to the bottom.

— “I wished for mortality.”

Hyunjin couldn’t cry. He felt he had cried enough, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as he waited for his results to come back.

The person across from him, a nametag that read, ‘Felix‘, with a smiling face drawn beside it, was now preoccupied with the beeping from the printer as something had began to print.

Hyunjin was requesting his immortality be relinquished so he could live out his days as a mortal and eventually meet you again, whether you were waiting in the afterlife or already reincarnated and trying to find him again after eight thousand years apart.

The wait was excruciatingly long.

“Looks like the results are in,” Felix waited for the printer to finish printing the results page before he read it out loud, curing Hyunjin’s slight impatience.

“Your request to relinquish your immortality status has been…”

Hyunjin held his breath, waiting for Felix to finish. Another eternity passed between his words.

“Accepted.”

[shdwtouch]

blog updates. (long post ahead orz)

oki ! I'm back from my hiatus, had some time to think about things and reassess my current feelings / standing. currently my anxiety levels are pretty low, but I'm going to be talking to my therapist tomorrow about it + asking my doctor if I could go back on an as-needed anxiety medication since its been so bad lately.

right now the biggest anxiety spike I have is over writing this post heheh but I'm feeling okay, doing my best to keep thinking positive thoughts.

I'm definitely not leaving, but I am gonna try to enact some changes going forward. and, well, fight the urge to remake cuz I know its just my flight instinct. I tend to hide from things that stress me out and make me feel bad, and I know that is a shitty coping mechanism. I know I need to do better for myself if I'm going to survive and grow and become a better person who can manage things and be dependable.

anyway, sorry for the word vomit. time for the planned updates.

first, I will be going partially queue based. I've been managing to keep my queue stocked, I hope I'll be able to continue to do so. answered drafts will potentially be put into my queue, depending; I may still post them as I do them. asks will be posted as normal. I will still be posting as normal & occasionally reblogging content as well. in general, I just want to vary what I'm putting into my queue.

next, with the above in mind, if me posting ooc as primary activity is going to be a problem, please unfollow / block me. this has been an issue for some in the past, and while I don't begrudge people their preferences I have always run my blogs in this way. I post a lot of ooc, whether its personal stuff, me discussing meta, or whatever else. if that is a problem then you are encouraged to leave.

I refuse to guilt myself for not being active ic, and I would hope as my roleplay partners & friends folks would respect how I run my blog and value me as a friend & person over what I can provide in terms of ic engagement and content. I feel like a broken record at this point, but I am slow and post a lot of ooc. this isn't new ! I have this stated in multiple places, it should not be a surprise to anyone !

next, another recurring mention is that I am forgetful as fuck. going forward I will be blocking blogs that I have followed and did not follow me back. why ? because every day I see blogs on my dash, look at them, and wonder... have I followed this blog before, or have I just seen them on my dash a lot ? its nothing personal, but I just. don't want to deal with the anxiety of "have I followed this person before, didn't get followed back, unfollowed them cuz they are mutual exclusive, and if I follow them again now are they gonna think I'm being pushy ?"

in this age of mutual exclusivity it just. isn't worth the stress to me. part of why I hate being mutual exclusive, tbh. frankly, I would think it A+ if folks just. blocked me if they didn't want to interact with me / if they are mutual exclusive and don't intend to follow back. I'm learning to cope with it, truly. like. I know I shouldn't assume people block me for a bad reason or cuz I made a bad impression; I frequently state that people should block to curate their space, not just cuz folks are toxic or whatever. I even assure that I block for primarily benign reasons, like this, so why should I jump to conclusions about why people block me ? why should I care ?

next up, speaking of blocking. I recently had a series of experiences that just. left me feeling really shitty. in general, I do my best to be a good, empathetic person. I value transparency and open communication, and if there is a problem I want to resolve it with the best interest of everyone involved. I do my best, truly. but. these experiences have made me realize that I... waste a lot of energy being the best person I can, worrying and working towards conflict resolution while the other party just. does not care, or doesn't respect / value me enough to try for a solution.

for the sake of my mental health and self-esteem... going forward, if I feel like I am being disrespected, or the vibes or off, or I just. don't see anything coming of my attempts... I am not going to keep expending my time or energy. as much as it literally fucking pains me (I mean seriously, I don't want to do this, because I want to give the benefit of the doubt and be a good person, I want to fix problems, not let them lie. I don't want to turn my back on being open for communication and resolution.), I've made the decision to begin (attempting, at least) to block folks who I feel have crossed my boundaries, disrespected me, treated me or others poorly, or have failed to behave in a civil, adult, and mature fashion.

okay, now just a couple brief points:

I'm working on making muse specific ask memes / interaction prompts. I proposed this idea a longass time ago but never did anything with it, but I hope it will help facilitate interactions, provide some inspiration for folks at the very least a starting point. they'll be generic but specific to my muses, and always available.

I will be posting an interest track / permission post, which will be required to interact going forward. kinda like a mains call, but it'll basically just be a like if you're okay with [insert info on how I run my blog] + are okay with my contacting you ooc, sending asks, etc + commenting with whether you're interested in shade or kaey or both. I'll link it in my rules and it'll, hopefully, provide me with the solid verification my silly little anxious brain needs to not feel like a bother.

I will be conducting another inbox + draft clear out; anything deleted from my drafts will be listed in a post with a ping so my partners are aware !

I will be dropping all current inbox, plotting, and shipping calls because, well, I lose track of them so easily... and then I get nervous that its been too long, so yeah. I have a to-do list now tho ! and I hope that will help me keep track of things, DMs specifically, cuz I... know I suck at keeping up with those, especially in regards to plotting and discussions. my sincerest apologies to everyone, I assure you it is not personal and literally just me being forgetful and nervous heheh

all calls will be limited to 2-4 going forward, so I don''t overwhelm myself. some will be first come first serve, others will be at my discretion.

I will be updating / expanding both kaeys lore and shades modern universes, with the intention of eventually moving shade towards becoming fandomless. I love her content for bg3 but as a whole I just. don't feel very good in the bg3 rpc ?? I feel like an outsider and the vibe just. isn't vibing for me like it once did. again, this is something I am working towards, not something that will be changing right away. and when/if it does happen, she will keep her bg3 universes. as far as kaey goes, I'm gong to try to integrate his different universes a big more. uwu; again. maybe this time I will get the puzzle pieces to fit, but we'll see.

working on a new blog for lore development / rp projects. you can preview the proof of concept at puffiary, if you're interested. I'll also be working more on my multi ! myk will potentially be moving to my mutli, or the new project blog, but I'm not certain yet. dunerook will be keeping her own blog, for now.

anyway. those are my thoughts and feelings regarding stuff. sorry for the long ass post, I didn't intend for it to be like this but ya'll also know me. I can't keep things short and simple to save my life lmao

I will be updating my rules with some of this, but in general the vibe ya'll should get from this post is that I am taking steps forward, but I'm going slow. I have plans and intentions to improve stuff. good things are coming, I'm manifesting it now. but. I also just. want to feel safe and comfy again. that is my first priority.

anyway. thanks for reading this whole thing. sending love !!

[fantastic-nonsense]

Reeves' interpretation of Bruce Wayne is a fairly radical departure from Comics!Bruce, but it clearly understands and is in active conversation with him. In my opinion, the movie is trying to move Bruce to a place where he understands what Comics!Bruce understands from the beginning because it feels the need to move the general public to that place as well.

Personally, while I'm not hugely enamored of Pattinson's portrayal of Bruce Wayne, I think the change from "involved but airheaded playboy" to "recluse who really doesn't do much as Bruce Wayne" actually works really well in this movie because it's a change that is ultimately in conversation with the past few decades of non-comics Batman media rather than the comics themselves. It's a characterization choice that is designed to explicitly address and ultimately subvert the tired Twitter hottake that Bruce should be "using his money to help clean up Gotham" instead of dressing up in a Bat suit and "beating up poor people."

Comic readers know Bruce is known for his philanthropy and unending fight against corruption as Bruce Wayne; we understand that he's committed himself to fighting crime both by day and by night, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman. But for people who only know Batman through the big-budget movie space (aka, the 'general movie-going public'), the explicit conversation of "Bruce is rich, what's he doing for Gotham outside of Batman?" hasn't ever really been had outside of some charity galas and throwaway lines about community improvement initiatives.

So the movie asks the same question: "Why aren't you fighting crime as Bruce Wayne, too? Why aren't you helping?"

Reeves' Bruce is a Bruce that is so wholly committed to Batman being the best way to live his life and achieve his goals that he's deliberately neglecting everything else: his father's philanthropic work, his status as Head of Wayne Enterprises, active oversight of the Gotham Renewal Fund, the derelict Wayne Manor-turned-Orphanage, etc. He initially sees no use for the many mechanisms available to him to tackle the sources of crime rather than the symptoms of it, and it's a viewpoint that is directly challenged by the events of the film (first by Selina, then Alfred, then Falcone, and finally by The Riddler).

By the end of the movie, and especially after Bruce's realization that Falcone has only been able to use the Wayne Renewal Fund to fuel Gotham's corruption because of his refusal to oversee it and actively engage with the public, he's clearly changed his mind and realized that it's the wrong way to approach things. He can't just take his anger and trauma out on those around him and call it "saving the city"; he has to be a protector, not just a boogeyman. And part of being Gotham's protector is realizing the power he has as Bruce Wayne that he's been refusing to leverage.

So the answer that Reeves' Bruce ultimately has to the question asked of him is: "I should fight crime as Bruce Wayne too, and I was wrong to think Batman is the only way to improve Gotham."

The Batman successfully moves the general public's narrative of who Bruce is and why he's Batman by explicitly working with the issue of "Bruce neglecting Gotham as Bruce hurts his mission as Batman." And by explicitly addressing it, the movie gets Bruce to the perspective on crime that Comics!Bruce traditionally has from the very beginning, but a perspective we rarely see explicitly showcased in Batman movies (and thus, a perspective casual viewers don't see):

"It's not about fear for me. It's about taking everything I have...all my resources, my abilities, my dedication...and using them to protect those who are most vulnerable."

So now general audiences are able to see (and will hopefully be shown in the sequels) the same Bruce that comic readers have seen and loved for decades: the man who fights for the vulnerable, in whatever form that fight takes.

[emilymaxximoff]

The World; Carl Grimes X Fem!Reader

CW: Fluff, Two violence, Swearing, Mention of drinking, Mention of ED when talking about Heathers

Prompt: "We're just friends." "You're joking they look at you like you're their whole world."

A/N: I kinda hate this but I invested way to much time into this to not to post it. I once again did not proof read (oops but honestly I probably never will lol) I really hope y'all like it. This is like so much fluff I swear I had a direction I was going in. Maybe I'll try to write a spicy something next lol. Reminder everyone is like at least 18 or 19. Anyway love y'all.

"Fuck!" you yelled as you used your knife to make a hole in a walkers brain. A horde had attacked your group out on a run. Everyone was fighting for their lives but all you could think about was Carl. What would happen to him if you didn't come back? Would it matter? Would he care? You two had been best friends forever and had never gone on a run without each other before. You had feelings for him and if you died now all of that was over. He would never know. You still wondered why all you could think about was him as you dug your blade into another walkers head, fighting for your and the rest of your groups lives.

Suddenly someone grabbed your arm and screamed your name. "Y/N come on we have to get to the car!" Enid was dragging you to the van you all had ridden in while Daryl and Carol covered you as you made a mad dash for the van. You violently opened the door and pushed Enid through before hoisting yourself through the door of the van, climbing into the back grabbing Daryl's gun from him as he hopped into the drivers seat and started the van to speed out of there. In hindsight it was a terrible idea to only bring your knives and handgun to this run but god you loved that shotgun and now you had an excuse to use it. You had tried to steal it from Daryl before but he had always managed to steal it back. We opened the windows and shot at as many walkers as we could as Daryl sped through the horde. When we finally got out of the horde and on a clear path back to Alexandria I sighed.

"Fuck dude, I thought I was gonna die back there. Yo, Daryl you sure I can't steal this?" you joked, holding up his shotgun.

Daryl jokingly rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming, Y/N."

The group got out of the van hauling the small amount of supplies you all had secured out in your backpacks and walked in the gates of Alexandria. Rick greeted us with confused look as the group were covered in more blood and guts than normal.

"What happened guys? Why are you all so dirty?" Rick inquired.

"Got inta a bit of a scruff with a horde of walkers. Sorry we didn' get much this time but at least we made it back." Daryl replied.

"That's alright. Is everyone clean?" He looked us up and down as we all nodded. "Ok then, what have ya guys got for us at least?"

Daryl continued on a conversation with Rick and Carol as they emptied their bags while you and Enid crouched nearby emptying your bags as well. You gently nudged Enid with a wide grin on your face and giggled. "How much do you wanna bet Daryl is gonna call Rick sweetheart one of these days."

"Oh I would bet my life on it." she laughed back.

As you both giggled you turned your head and saw Carl coming up the road to greet you both. Your smile widened even more. You had made it back to him but the words to tell him how you felt would evaded you once again. You saw Enid straighten her clothes and adjust her hair in preparation for his hello.

"Hey Carl!" Enid said as she attempted to give him a flirtatious smile.

"Hey Enid." Carl replied giving her a quick hug before turning to you and smiling wide before saying loudly saying, "Y/N! You made it back alive." He gave you a long hug picking you up off the ground and laughing as he swayed with you in his arms. "God damn you are just covered in guts. What the fuck did you do this time."

"Jesus" you giggled. "Why do I always get blamed for this shit? What about Enid she was there too asshole?"

"Yeah but you're the fuck up"

"Fuck you." you said as you punched his arm. God he was infuriating but you loved it. He was your best friend in the whole world and everything he did and said gave you butterflies. You would die for this one eyed boy.

Enid suddenly spoke up forcing a small smile. "Hey guys how bout Y/N and I go clean up then we meet up before the town get together tonight."

"Sounds good to me." Carl replied. "See you guys in like an hour or two?"

"Yeah, sounds great see ya"

"Bye Carl." you said as you turned back to Enid. "Hey can I just come back to your place to take a shower? I was gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie till then. I think we deserve it."

Enid grins. "Yeah I think we do. Come on let's go."

----------

You sat on the couch next to Enid watching Heathers. Your wet hair lay on your t-shirt you had stolen from Enid. She had let you borrow her clothes so you didn't have to go back to your room across town in the Grimes house where you lived but at this point you owned more of her clothes than your own.

"It just baffles me how people would throw up their perfectly good food." Enid commented.

"Yeah it's weird but I get it. Beauty was a big thing back then they cared if they looked like a model and not whether they could kill a bitch." You replied trying to make a joke at the same time.

"Isn't this movie about killing bitches though? Like that's the whole plot." Enid giggled. You had both watched this movie 100 times but somehow it always ended in this conversation but you weren't one to complain. Movies were scarce in the apocalypse and you were happy to even have a few, or electricity for that matter.

"Enid..." you laughed as you heard a knock at the door.

"I got it." Enid said as she jumped out of her seat and made a dash for the door. You knew it had to be Carl and the way Enid always acted around him you knew something had to be going on. Maybe that's another reason you kept all of your feelings to yourself. You didn't want to hurt Enid and you thought she had a better chance than you ever could.

"Hey guys, are we ready to go?" Carl asked standing in the door way peering into the living room.

"As long as Enid is ready so am I." you replied looking towards Enid for conformation and she nodded. You hit the power button on the remote and got up from the couch to make your way over to the door Enid and Carl were standing at.

The three of you walked down the street towards the town center. The sun shone off the water in the quarry as you walked toward it. You all laughed as you joked and got to be young adults for once. There was almost no times like these. Times where you could just live and enjoy life. Times where you weren't fighting for your life. As you walked down the street Carl continuously bumped into you lightly grazing your hand gently each time as you all hysterically laughed.

----------

You sat next to Enid on the couch with a beer in your hand. Your social battery was almost gone and it was late. You knew you would be going home soon. Carl was over talking to his dad and you finally had a second to breathe and take in how he made you feel. You spent the whole party making sure to not let him know how you felt. Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Enid sighing loudly.

"Why do you have to be so fucking charismatic and prefect?" she said as she leaded back into the couch.

"What?" you asked confused.

"Just you being you and Carl is literally in love with you and I'm just so fucking jealous all the time."

You looked at Enid with wide eyes. You couldn't believe your ears. Your mouth hung open and you let out a small scoff in amusement. "What are you talking about? I am not perfect. And Carl? We are just friends. He probably has a thing for you. I promise he does not.... love me."

"Oh please." she said as she lazily rolled her eyes at you. "You have to be joking. He looks at you like you're his whole world. I keep throwing myself at him and all he can look at his your perfect ass."

"I-" you stuttered. You never wanted to hurt Enid.

"Save it. I'm not mad at you. I'm jealous sure. Maybe mad that I can't be you but I could never be mad at you for that." She looked at you gently smiling but you could see the pain in her eyes. "Listen, I can be a real bitch some-, most of the time but I like and care about you. You have been the best friend I have ever had and if giving up my pride so my best friend and the guy I like can be happy together, then so be it. And before you start denying it I can tell you like him too so just get with him and get it over with. I hate watching you guys dance around it."

"Enid, I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this to you." you stared at your lap. "I'd never purposely hurt you, ever."

You fumbled with your hands, a habit you had picked up after the apocalypse. You looked up over towards Carl. You really did love this boy. You could feel tears welling in your eyes. You didn't want to hurt Enid but you wanted to be with Carl. You wanted to feel his hands on your waist as he kissed you. You ached to kiss his soft lips and look into his eye. You wanted to tell him you loved him and to hear that he loved you back. You wanted to hold his hand and never let go. You suddenly realized you were staring when Carl looked back at you with a wide grin on his face. He started to walk over and you realized finally what was happening. You looked over to Enid, slightly panicking.

She smiled back at you then leaned in and whispered, "You got this. You should tell him tonight."

"Hey guys what are you talking about?" Carl said as he stood in front of the couch.

"Nothing important just how we should find somewhere to get new summer clothes most of my clothes are in Y/N's closet." Enid replied lying through her teeth. You smiled at her thankfully.

Carl looked back at you with a concerned look. "Hey Y/N are you ok? You look like you're about to cry."

You were about to cry, but you couldn't let Carl know that. He would ask why and you were not looking to lose your shit in front of this room full of people. "Yeah I'm just really tired." you managed to mumble.

"Oh ok. How 'bout we walk back together? I wanted to go back to the house anyway."

"It's ok I don't want to take you away from the party if you're having fun so I'll-"

"No I want to." he interrupted you. "Please let me."

You looked up at him and nodded. You really did want to leave. You looked over at Enid for approval. You didn't want to leave her in the dust. "Are you gonna be ok if we go?"

"Yeah go ahead. I think I'm gonna get fucked up and make some poor decisions like a bitch." she said giving you a smile and a sarcastic wink.

You rolled your eyes at her with a smile on your face as you let out a snort through your nose. You slowly got up from the couch to stand by Carl and turned around to face Enid. "Ok just don't make too bad of decisions. I'll see you tomorrow. And thank you, for ya know everything."

She scrunched her nose and smiled. You turned around and started to walk out of the house next to Carl. As you walked out the door Carl looked back at you to make sure you were following him. You walked silently next to Carl towards the Grimes house looking down at your feet and wondering if Enid was right about the way Carl looked at you. You looked over at Carl and all you could think about is how much you wanted to hold his hand and feel his soft lips on yours. As you and Carl walked up to the house, Carl turned to you and smiled. "You're still wearing Enid's clothes. I guess she was right about you stealing all her clothes." he smirked at you. "It's ok. You look better in them anyway."

"Thanks." you laughed. "Don't let her hear you say that though. She'll beat your ass."

You made your way up the stairs and towards your room but before you could get there a voice calls your name from behind you.

"Y/N. Hey wait. Can we talk?" Carl asked

You turned around with your hand still on the door knob. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Had he heard your conversation with Enid from across the room? Did he not feel the same? Was he in love with Enid? "Yeah what's up?" you asked trying to sound as cool and collected as possible but your voice still broke imagining the worst.

"I know you aren't just tired. I can tell something else is going on. I see it in your eyes. You know you can tell me anything. I would never judge you." He cupped your face in his hands wiping a tear off your face. "Did Enid say something to you? Was she being a bitch?"

"No no nothing like. Quite the opposite really." you quickly reassured him.

"You seemed fine before you talked to her so if it's not that, what is it?"

You tightly closed your eyes and bit your lip to try to suppress your tears but it wasn't working. "Can we maybe talk in my room? I feel like I need to sit down."

"Yeah of course. Anything." he said as he moved his hand from your arm to your hand and squeezed it tightly. He took his other hand and cupped your face wiping tears away once again. You lead him over to your bed and sit down. He can feel your hands shaking in his hand and he holds them tighter. "It's ok I promise you can tell me anything."

You inhaled deeply and closed your eyes gaining the courage to tell him how much you loved him. Enid's words replayed in your head 'you should tell him tonight' and you finally took your last deep inhale and ignored the pit in your stomach to finally tell him how you felt. "I am mildly, well very upset because of something Enid said but it's not because it was mean. It was weirdly nice and selfless of her to put aside how she felt for my feelings. She told me she was jealous of me and the way you looked at me. She said you looked at me like I was your whole world. I've never noticed it before and part of me thinks she's wrong because I just don't see how you could ever like me. I thought you might have feelings for her because well, she's Enid but there is another part of me praying and hoping that she is right because I ya know like you..." you paused quickly readjusting your words. "You know what no. Fuck it. I'm already this deep in, I love you and thinking for even a split second that there was even the slightest chance that you might feel the same, that you might, love me too made me so happy. I have loved you ever since I moved into your house. I have thought about what it would be like for you to kiss me, and look me in my eyes and tell me that you fucking love me too. You don't have to feel the same way and I am so sorry if I ruined our friendship but when you asked I had to tell you and Enid said to do it tonight so I guess fuck me I did it." you said sobbing.

"Y/N please don't cry." Carl said lifting your chin and staring in your eyes before pulling you in and kissing your lips. His lips were soft and warm. He started gently but deepened the kiss by the second making you feel safe and secure. You had never been happier. He pulled away and placed his forehead on yours with his right hand holding your face and his left still holding your hand. You positioned yourself the same holding him close. "I look at you that way because you are my whole world. I love you more than anything. I have loved you ever since you became part of our group but I never said anything because I thought you wouldn't like me back either. I love you so much Y/N. Please don't ever leave me."

You smile, happy tears streaming down your face, taking all your stress away as they fell off your skin. "Never Carl. I will never leave. I mean it."

Carl kisses you again and finally you are happy. In his arms you feel no harm can come to you. You pull away and look at Carl barely able to contain the cheesy grin you are trying to suppress. There is nothing that could ruin this.

"Hey, can I maybe stay in here and cuddle with you tonight?" Carl asked nervously but he was almost sure of the answer.

You couldn't hold back your grin anymore and you laughed quietly. "I guess so but on one condition."

"What's that."

"You make this a regular thing. You don't get to sleep here only once."

He laughed and replied "I think I can work with that beautiful. You have got yourself a deal my love."

As you drifted off to sleep wrapped in Carl's arm you realized you have never been this happy in your life, not even before the outbreak. Enid had done the most selfless thing she could and now you were laying with the man you loved, warm and cozy.

[aurorarosesposts]

DP/DC WEEK 2022

Day 1: Worse Case Scenario Only

Hello everybody! I'm very excited to do the DP/DC Week made by @avaritia-apotheosis ! Sadly, I'll be doing one, which is this one, fanfic for DP/DC this week due to my busy schedule. I'm upset about it since I made a continuous story with the prompts in my head but maybe I'll do some quick sketches instead for the other days. Who knows ^_^

Also, the story idea for this prompt was made by @stealingyourbones so go check them out!!!

Sorry if there's any grammar errors in this, English isn't my native language ≥﹏≤

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and have a great day!!!! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

====================================

This is not how things should go.

Dick Grayson was responding to a hostage situation in Blüdhaven; Just a few weeks after being gassed with the new Joker Gas. Now that doesn't sound good and he was hospitalized for it but he got better! And that should be the end of it...

If only it didn't have side effects.

In the weeks that follow were laughing episodes akin to panic attacks. With research of the gas, some questioning and a bit of detective work, it turns out that the Joker purposely did that so the victims who do survive his gas will suffer either way.

Now luckily there was a antidote.

Unluckily Joker destroy it before anyone got their hands on it.

Now the people that survive would have to bare the fits until the Justice League figure out a antidote. The victims were to be held in government approved hospitals and monitor by the government and the Justice League as they worked together on the cure. Good news to the victims that were gassed, the gas isn't as potent or deathly and there's a 50/50 chance of the effects surfacing after roughly a week after being cured the first time. The good news only ended there though. Dick was hit, but he didn't have the side effects.

At least that's what everyone thought.

Now don't get him wrong, he was bedridden for a few days, but he did get better!... But then fates decided to be cruel and the side effects began just a week after being cured and the fits started; but the family didn't know that. To them, Dick Grayson wasn't amongst the unfortunate people who did. He was fine! And he would like to keep it that way.

Dick didn't want to make them worried about him. Tim and Bruce already have to spend countless nights just to make a cure (and still are for the side effects), his siblings worked around the clock so they can cover him in Bloodhaven, and even Alfred was on edge after the whole insident. Really, he didn't want them to know.

So he kept his mouth shut.

Sure, hiding from a family of detectives wasn't gonna last long, and the laughing fits weren't making it any better to hide,but he's a detective too! Dick was raised by one of the greatest detective no less! He managed to keep it from them, but now Dick suspect that some of them (mostly Cass) are catching on what's going on.

Because of that, he decided to stay in Blüdhaven to lay low. Dick wasn't allowed to be Nightwing yet, but Dick had a job at BCPD; he's not going to sit around and do nothing after all. Alfred may have grounded him from going out as a vigilant but his city still needs him in more ways in one.

And here he was, on the ground, laughing and wheezing and coughing his sorrows away, during a very delicate hostage situation. The hostages were held in a warehouse...

A warehouse similar to the warehouse that held...Jason...

Little wing...

His brother- that he failed-

He couldn't breathe- couldn't think-! He-

He hears shots in the distance but is helpless to do anything.

---

This is not how things should go.

Dash Baxter is just a simple man; a man trying to live his normal life as a policeman in the BCPD. And life likes to make things difficult then it should be, though that should be expected in his line of work. Thank the ancients that he hasn't gone gray yet!

The day starts with a call about a hostage situation. Before that, he was investigating a string of robberies in Bloodhaven for the past few months that might be -no, is- connected to each other and the hostage situation at hand.

How does he know?

Well, all the robberies were done by the same people and although they're cover their faces, the robbers were wearing the same clothes and masks every time. Sure, there were effective in keeping the robber's identities, but at this point, it might as well be their identities.

Even knowing that, the criminals were slippery little shitters as they constantly evaded them at every turn. Entil now; Dash got in contact with Detective Wes Weston (that fees so weird to say), an old friend and now pravite detective to lend a helping hand and figure out the robbers next move.

All the years spend doing conpriresy theories and stalking his classmates finally paid off for him, Dash thought. Though he wouldn't want to admitted that in front of him.

With the help of Detective Wes (Ancients it still feels weird to say that), they managed to figure out the criminal's next plan; that is to rob a bank and stop them before they get their hands on the cash. But just like slimy slippery little bastards they are, they got away.

And this time, with hostages.

Dash, who's on the wheel, his partner Dick Grayson besided him and Wes at the back managed to catch up with the criminals with his car to a empty abondon warehouse just outside the docks. Dash makes sure that they weren't spotted and let the robbers think that they managed to escape.

The plan was to wait until help arrived and go from there. However, he noticed Dick wasn't looking so good when they got to the warehouse, but he was focused on the task at hand.

That was his worse mistake.

"Hey Dash...? Your partner's not looking good there..." Wes whispered, opening the car door slowly, before shit went sideways.

Dick started to giggled, and the next thing they know, he started to laugh, which gave away the three's position.

Shots rang out.

"TAKE COVER!!" Dash yelled as he opened the door, grabs Dick, who's now laughing like a mad man, and took cover at the side of the car. Wes pulls out his Fenton Gun and starts shooting back, green goo hitting and melting away at the metal walls.

Dash takes out his walkie talkie and calls for backups as Wes keep shooting back, careful where he shoots as he didn't know where the hostages are.

The situation is getting worse.

"Damn the Ancients! You're so going to own me a favor!" Wes ducks down with them.

"Crap! This isn't good," Dash retorted back. He starts to reload his gun (the normal kind) and stars shooting at the criminals that he can see. He then ducks down to check on Dick. "Dick! Wha-" he cuts himself.

By the looks of it, Dick having a panic attack, although he knows damn well that laughing isn't one of the symptoms. He looks like in a lot of pain; tears freely ran down his cheeks, as he tries desperately to silent himself, his body was shaking and trembling. Then Dash remembers about the new Joker Gas on the news a while back. How it now has side effects, how Dick was visiting his family in Gotham that time, how-

Dick was gassed with the Joker Gas.

And only then Dash noticed that he can only hear Dick's maniac of a laugh and not the gunshots.

"Hey, D! Look!" Wes called out, shaking Dash fully out of his thoughts.

Shit, the hostage situation.

He feared the worse... but Wes was giving him a shit eating grin and he hears no more gun shots, so he looks back at the warehouse. People were coming out, all the hostages were free, and he zero in a certain woman with dark skin and wearing a hot pink top with a black leather jacket on top and white jeans waving at them.

He wasn't expecting to see another old friend amidst the crowd.

It was Paulina waving at them, with a big smile on her face, at the front of the hostages. Acting as a leader of sorts, she orders them to dragged out the robbers who are now tided up with chains. From his position, he could see that one of them has a pretty nasty black eye. If he wasn't still on edge, he'll find the situation hallarious and wanted to know why she's here in Blüdhaven. But now he know that the people are safe and Paulina mostly took care of it, Dash focused on Dick's laughing problem.

"Wes, can you take care of them for me?" Dash asked. He still needs to help his partner who's still laying on the ground.

Wes just sigh, "You so own me for this," he then walks to the group, no doubt relief as Dash is that the people were safe (though not admitted anything when asked), leaving Dash and Dick behind.

Thankfully, Dick seems to calm down and the laughing stopped. He's eyes were bloodshot red and tears were already staining his cheeks. Unfortunately, he's still giggling.

"I... I'm... I'm sorr-god I-so sorry-" Dick tried to say, but he's out of breath and still giggles between words. Dash feels helpless to do anything.

"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe, alright?" Dash knees down and ask,"can I touch you? At the shoulder?"

Dick silently nods. Dash sat next to him and place he's hand on Dick's shoulder. Dash hears sirens at the distance, signaling that backups have arrived. Hopefully the ambulance as well.

It's going be a long day.

---

Dash decided to stay behind to help rally up the culprits and to give a report on what happened. He feels a little embarrassed that Paulina and Wes did all the work, but they insist that Dash help as well as he could.

He also talked to the medics about his theory on what happened to Dick Grayson. He believes that Dick was gas by the new Joker Gas and kept the side effects from everyone after he was supposedly cured (which is true). Now that he thinks about it, every time that Dick looks unwell, he always excuses himself. Dash really was an idiot and thought his partner was just under the weather.

Ancients, he wanted to banged his head up against a wall.

After the paramedics took Dick away, and knowing he'll be in good hand, Dash walks over to where Paulina and Wes were to catch up on their lives.

---

"Soooo, about the favor you own me...."

"What favor?"

"I'm not bribing Fenton into giving you another cursed book, Wes."

[snackhobi]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

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

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

“Was that the weekly special?”

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

“Would you recommend it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.  

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

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

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

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

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

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

You are the worst.)

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

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

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

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

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary. 

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you. 

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else. 

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it. 

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright. 

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you. 

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.) 

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung. 

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth. 

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to. 

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up. 

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say. 

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really. 

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists. 

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.” 

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor. 

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed. 

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad. 

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee. 

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is. 

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

 “Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say. 

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all. 

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice. 

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity. 

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think. 

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand. 

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?” 

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say. 

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove

[redrobin-detective]

the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

______________________________________________

Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was  frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal. 

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning. 

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said. 

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!” 

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking. 

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid. 

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise. 

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away. 

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost. 

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

[venomous--fics]

Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

[hexpea]

Ch. 19 - Just a Girl

"Hey, Y/N," Gojo's voice rang out as you escaped Geto's room. He was walking down the hallway in your direction, likely headed to his own room. You felt your heart nearly stop with the guilty feeling of being caught looming over your shoulders. Luckily, based on his tone, it was clear that Gojo was none the wiser. 

"Hey!" You smiled as normally as you could despite what you had just been doing. "How'd the interview go?"

"Great!" He grinned and turned to his door to unlock it. "I already knew I'd have the position, but they just wanted to make sure I'd take it seriously, as if I wouldn't," he gave a single disbelieving laugh. 

"Hey," you started, watching as he removed his key from the door and let it swing open. Now or never, Y/N. "I was wondering if...you'd maybe...want to go out sometime."

"You mean...like a date?" He pursed his lips as he made sure he was one the same page. You nodded anxiously. 

"We've been escalating things for a while now, my birthday being a big night, and...I really like you...as a person. I just figure...maybe we can try things out?"  Everything you and Geto had worked toward came to this moment. But his silence was unfortunately concerning. 

"Can you come in for a minute?" He suddenly asked, motioning his head toward his room. 

With a panic-stricken heart, you followed Gojo into his apartment. You turned back to look at him as he shut the door behind you.

"Y/N," he started with a sigh, awkwardly not knowing what to do with his hands as he spoke, "you know I'm not one for relationships...with women."

"I know, I know," you bit your cheek, "you're more interested in one night stands, but...I feel a connection between us." You tried your best to stay hopeful and sound positive. 

"No, no," he waved his hands in front of him, "I'm definitely interested in a relationship, but...not...with a woman. I have been interested in someone for quite some time and..." You stared at him blankly, his answer completely unexpected. "Well, I...like them too much to want to date anyone else at the moment."

"Got it," you flattened your lips and looked toward the ground. "Um...who is it, then?" You tried to wonder happily. 

"Let's just say your birthday was the most hopeful I've been in some time, but...that was quickly shattered the next day," he riddled. You raised an eyebrow as you tried to figure out the solution. "You...slapped him across the face."

"Y-you're in love with Geto?!" You nearly shouted. He quickly dashed to your side and covered your mouth. 

"Shh..." he hissed. "These walls are paper thin, you know!"

"Sorry," you adjusted yourself after his abrupt touch, wiping your mouth and un-wrinkling your shirt. "I just...never would've guessed," you gave a pathetic laugh. 

"I know, he's been my best friend since...well, forever. I guess it was just bound to happen to one of us at some point." Gojo laughed with you, his face subtly red. "I obviously haven't gone for it. At first it was nerves, then I thought you two were dating, and now...well," he grimaced.

"What? What's stopping you now?" You asked, completely confused seeing as Geto was his usual self save for his anger toward you. 

"He's got a girlfriend," he shrugged with a serious look on his face. "Guess I'm not his type anyway."

"Girlfriend? When...the girl from the night of my birthday?" You were completely baffled. How could you not have known?

"Well, I guess they're not serious yet, it's only been a few days, but they've got their first date scheduled, so..." Gojo explained. "It's kinda funny...she looks a bit like you," he gave an awkward laugh.

"I see," you tried your best to not sound disappointed. 

"But, uh, I'm obviously down for being friends with benefits. If that's something you'd want. Everyone has needs..." he awkwardly continued. 

You took a minute to think about it. You really had nothing to lose at this point. Gojo was the only man you considered being with, and if he's not interested in dating you - but still interested in fucking - you might as well go for it. It was like he said. Everyone has needs.

"Fine," you agreed with little emotion. 

With your answer, a devilish grin grew upon his face and he took a step closer to you. "Want to start now?" He asked, nudging you with his elbow.

"I'm actually busy at the moment," you lied. Truthfully, you felt pretty tired from what you had been doing barely fifteen minutes ago. 

"Cool, cool," he nodded and took a step away from you. "Another time then."

"Yeah," you agreed and walked to his door, opening it, "see you later."

"See you," he gave a small wave as you exited into the hallway. You nodded and continued on to your own apartment.

You didn't know how to feel. You had a chemical concoction of a few things going on. You were rejected by the one man you wasted so much time and effort into wooing. You lost a very good friend, but also just fucked that friend. You didn't know how to feel about said friend considering you hated him, liked him as a friend, but still felt jealous of the mystery girl from your birthday night.

After a nice, hot shower, you decided to spend your night wallowing. It was a comforting emotion from the pain that you felt. You could get used to it...too used to it.

A few days passed by. In those few days, you tried to establish some kind of routine to keep you distracted. You didn't really have any worthwhile hobbies that allowed you to completely disappear, mentally. You could feel your happiness beginning to slip again. It was hard to stay happy when the ones you cared for made you feel so conflicted.

You went on another assignment, this time on your own - coming back late at night. Your entire body ached from the fight. You wished you hadn't been recommended for first grade seeing as every mission you'd been on was incredibly difficult - much more difficult than when you faced second grades during high school. Then again, the pay was great. You figured you'd be able to move off-campus in no time - though it may be more practical to stay anyways with the near constant travel of the job.

You sighed to yourself as you inserted your key into the door, only to hear overly feminine giggling coming from down the hall and headed in your direction. It was distracting enough to cause you to fumble a bit with your key which gave the pair a proper amount of time to pass you to get to his door. 

"It's here," you looked for a brief moment to find Geto unlocking his door with a dumb smile on his face. The mystery girl from the club was all smiles, too. She was quite cute, looking just as dolled up as she was that night. They looked to be flirtatiously whispering to one another.

You took a moment to yourself, looking down at your doorknob in a moment of disassociation. You shook your head to snap out of it and walked into your apartment. 

Once you got in, you immediately began trying your best to unwind, though it was hard to keep your mind off of what could be happening next door.  Unfortunately for you, Geto's guest...no, his so-called girlfriend, was more than happy to showcase her pleasure through the paper thin walls Gojo had warned you about. 

When you could no longer take the sounds coming from next door, there was only one thing you could do. 

In your pajamas, you left your room and angrily tiptoed to Gojo's door, giving two stern knocks and waited for his answer.

"What's this?" He chuckled, looking you up and down from behind a pair of sunglasses. You hadn't seen those in some time. 

"You know what it is," you brushed past him angrily. Between being rejected and Geto's obnoxious new girlfriend, your cortisol levels were through the roof. 

"Okay, okay," Gojo's smile didn't fade toward your attitude. "I was just finishing up dinner. Would you like some?" He noted as he meandered toward his kitchen. You were busy undressing as he began to serve up what he had in a pan into a bowl. 

"No," you answered shortly, but then realized your anger was throwing everything off. "Thank you..." you softened.

"I'll...put this in the fridge then," he mumbled, realizing that something must be wrong. "Are you sure you want to do this right now?"

"Yeah," you answered hesitantly. "I've got some pent up aggression that I need to get out."

"Pent up aggression? That's what you're calling it?" Gojo laughed. You snapped your head angrily in his direction. 

[zasaka-studio]

Exchange Disaster.

Tag: ED

-Act 1-

Part 1 / 2

─────────────────────────────

Title: Why is everyone here weird as fUc?

─────────────────────────────

You had fallowed what you're paper said and successfully got there before the bell.

You then noticed that- instead of traditional desks. There's at least, seven round tables. Dang ain't this nostalgic, like for 2-4th grade. You then noticed that the one with a red basket had a open seat, more or so it's the first one you seen. So you obviously sat down at that table.

“Hello! My name is Zenitsu! Marry me!”

“Hey don't be rude!”

“Fight fight fight!”

Oh god, anything but this...

You looked around for any open tables, which there were. And tried to sneak away from this no no group. Catching someone with golden eyes, pink hair and- blue skin? Not that it matters it's just you've never seen someone with blue skin. You swear to God your not gonna be that person. But as always your efforts were in vain as the boy with reddish hair had pretty much almost knocked himself out by bowing onto the table. Hearing the impact sounded painful.

“Please forgive my friends! They're  always like this!” The kid with earrings said firmly. “But i could get expelled or die at any time! So please!-” “Shut up monitsu! I asked them first! Their gonna fight me!” A what you assumed to be a girl asked. “No you did not!” Zenitsu? Monitsu? You didn't know slammed his hands on the table.

“SHUT UP! Zenitsu you're making them uncomfortable, and Inouske. Not everyone can or will fight you! So please have some respect!” The redhead said. Dang these guys do have souls, or was that gingers? But anyway. “Yeah uhm- imma just go...” Then the loud ass bell rang. “well nevermind.” Sighing, then the yellow haired boy screamed yet again. “yay!” then everyone started to shush echother as the door opened. Revealing a well dressed man, with black hair and maroon eyes. Why is everyone here have rare genetics? First, that iguro guy who had hetorocramia and Taylors unnaturally tall and buff body and I swear... If you're like Renbozo and frequently invade my thoughts... I swear to Jesus.

You then heard some snickering as the man walked around to his desk, which he gave a glare. Then the two kids tightened up and stopped immediately. Oh boy- not the control freak teachers.

“Alright, since the bell officially rung. Everyone who's not here gets detention as soon as they enter that door.” The man said as he set down his papers, wait he got here after the bell? Well ain't that a double standard. Also zenitsu seemed to be practicing becoming a meraka. Me too buddy me too. “Also even though we have a new student today, were still gonna be going to continue where we left off. Now turn to page 114.” Oof...

Then everyone started to take books from under the desks. “Ill get them.” The redhead who you still didn't know the name of had leaned under the table. Then coming back up with four books. “Oh I'm sorry! I'll go ask for another book for you, this one's mako's.” The red head said, then Zenitsu literally did the dash to the teachers desk. Then coming back at the exact same speed. Mado in heaven speed.

“Here ya go!” He then shoved the book in your face. “Hey!-” “Shut up Tanjirou! You always get all the good girls so why not me?!” Zenitsu whisper yelled. You just grabbed it and turned to said page. Sure you hated math but you had to be good at it. Not amazing just the normal human IQ.

“Hey-” The guy names Inouske whispered, which you didn't believe could happen. You nodded you're head. Might as well see what he wanted. “Assist me.” You once again became the rock as you raised your eyebrow. “Why?-” Tanjirou then shushed you. The reason being because if Mr. Muzan Jackson guy hears you two. We all get detention for- about an hour. Which is a mystery on why that's not iligal. You know what, that sounds like a good project subject.

“Do i care? I need help and they look like their smart!” Inouske, you believed, had whispered. Haha hypocrite. But you've got nothing better to do so why not. “Shure, i can help. Now let's shut up-”

“Stop talking, if you want to so bad you can teach the lesson.”

Shit

You hadn't noticed Tanjirou and Zenitsu's horrified faces. Oh fuck, this is where you die, say goodbye to Taylor for me. You turned around.

And you could see the menacing symbols flying. But why is this guy so scary? You could feel your arm tremble as this guy gave you the most hate filled stare ever.

“Hmm? Your gonna have to make a decision, or are you fine?” You snapped out of your terrifacation and had almost jumped to the ceiling. “Y-yes sir. I was just helping someone...” You stuttered as his glare lifted almost immediately. What's this guy bipolar- “Oh you should've said so. I'm glad that someone is actually try to help their classmates.” He said as Mr. Muzan had looked out towards the class. Causing them to either not care or hide in their books. Jesus Christ was this a military camp? Still how was this not iligal??

“Continue.” Mr. Muzan had said before walking back to his desk and doing something on his computer. Welp now, i guess your a teacher pet. But you'll never remind them of homework, that's just sucky. But it dose help your overall grade buuuuuut.

“That was awesome!” Inouske said as he looked back up from his book. Noticing that it's just all swiggls, no actual English at all. You sighed and grabbed his book. A little ‘Hey!’ came from him as he tried to grab his book back. “All there is here is gibberish. Inouske, do you even know how to write?” Inouske had huffed and leaned back in his chair. He was about to say something but the loudass that was zenitsu had decided to beat him to it. “Well, since you're helping him. Your gonna help me too!”

You sighed as you nodded in defeat. No point in saying no because you already know he'd just continue the whole time. His face was almost beat red as he thanked you. Looking over at the ravenett? He has red hair but it looks black? Whatever, you had looked at him. Screaming for help, not really. But all he did was give you a smile.

Fuck you then.

Sighing once more for like the thousandth time today, you weren't even near lunch yet and all of this damn shit is happening. Why you anyways? You should've looked better for a seat...

-

“-and that's all today, class. Now leave.”

You practically started to cry. These two had never once shut up. Mr. Muzan had to give them strikes or whatever they're for. Because they wouldn't. Stop. Arguing. Inouske seemed really uninterested, and always tried to change the subject. Zenitsu was cooperative but he wouldn't stop, again, arguing with Inouske. You asked Tanjirou for help, and which he did. You tank him dearly for that.

You got up, stretching your sore ass legs. Closing the book you were borrowing. And snatching your five pages of notes away from Inouske. “Okay, you two need counseling or something. You two bicker more than my parents do.” You're somewhere between concerned and astonished at how badly they get along. “Oh Zenitsu can pass up a chance to try his shot on any girl he sees!” Inouske snorted as zenitsu had puffed up. “Inosuke, don't be rude, you two almost didn't get the lesson today.” Tanjirou said as he patiently waited for his two idiot friends to get up.

“Hey it's not my fault! Shes really pretty! What am I supposed to do?” Zenitsu said in his really high pitched voice. Then you became confused, who was he talking about, you? HAH no.

“Hey... We actually don't know you're name...” Tanjirou said as Zenitsu and Inouske continue to banter. “Eh you'll probably not see me again anyways.” Which was probably true because this is someone else's seat. “No, I'd like to know! So we could probably talk after class..?” Tanjirou had rubbed the back of his head a bit. Maybe because you look like you wanna do the dash. But you can wait a lil bit longer.

“My names [Y/N], now you know.” Tanjirou seemed to test the name on his tongue. Giving you a smile as the other two continued to argue. Yet again, it's a miracle that Mr. Muzan hadn't noticed them because of how many students were still packing up. Also damn is everyone in slowmo or something??

“Welp, gotta blast. See y'all, maybe?” You said as you scurried past the other students. Accidentally bumping into someone. “Sorry, sorry!” You said as you looked up to see the same pink haired guy. “Oh it's fine.” He said as he pulled a string over his shoulder. Wait- you recognize that anywhere. It's a guitar case. “Your in band?” “Oh yeah I am, why do you-”

“WHY DID YOU RUN OFF LIKE THAT!?”

Screaming and jumping back, almost falling down. But the mystery guy, who you still don't know that name of had caught you. “Hey! What's your problem?! They almost hit their head you dunce!” As the pink haired guy helped you to your feat Zenitsu's face drained of it's color.

Tanjirou calmly walked up to the three of you. Looking at the guy who was still holding your shoulder. “Why hello Akaza! How have you been?” Smiling as he gave out a hand. Ooh his name's Akaza It's kinda pretty. Wait a minute this guy was beating the ever living shit out of another kid named Doma? Okay now you understand Zenitsu's fear.

“Hello, now we have to get going. Bye” Akaza then softly pushed you out with him. “Hey this is kidnapping!” You said as the two of you reached the hall. “Nah, just getting you away from the yellow freak. He treats everyone with no respect. Mostly woman.” Oh, at least your not special. Shrugging his hand off of you as you walked beside him. “So, Akaza, was it?” He nodded as you two heard crying.

Looking back you saw Mr. Muzan yelling at Zenitsu to go to class. Tanjirou practically dragging him.

Now that's funny, though you couldn't help but to feel bad for the guy.

“See, that's what I mean.” Akaza said as he turned his head back around. “Welp, I'll be seeing him soon.” He then started to walk as you raised your eyebrow. “Why's that?” “I have detention the whole week because of the bus fight i had. At least i beat the shit out of that smug bastard...” You snorted. Remembering what happened this morning. You wanted to tell him that you had witnessed his battle but decided not to.

“So where are you heading to?” Continuing to fallow him as you really don't have any other choice. As history is this way, if you remember right. “Oh I'm heading to my intermediate class.” Akaza shrugs as the two of you came to a fork in the hallway. Oh so that's what those optional classes are! “Oh band?” You asked, kinda sad that he has a different class time as you. Yours is at the end of the day. “Pottery.”

What?

“Pottery? Why? I mean it's fine but, you..?” Looking at him he raised an eyebrow, hay that's you're thing! “Uh yeah? Trust me you're not the first to say that.” Akaza laughed as you looked at your schedule again. “Ay shorty lemme see.” He leaned over to look at the paper that everyone seemed to be obsessed with today. “Yo- back up, and im like five inches shorter than you!” Leaning away from Akaza as he shrugged. “Eh i already saw it, it's cool that were both band kids. A good friend of mine is also in that class.” He said as you nodded.

“Us weirdos gotta stick together don't we?” Dang why do you get along with people? You literally met this guy like two minutes ago and now you feel like y'all had been friends for years? “Yeah.” Akaza punched your shoulder, Letting out a screech of pain and betrayal. “See you shorty! I gotta go or I'll be late!” Akaza said running off.

“Ay! Well by then! And again I'm FIVE inches shorter fatty!”

-

Also apparently your history class took you four minutes to find. With one minute left you had started to panic. Maybe you went the wrong way? Or you've been teleported to another universe? Are you even you? But you're snapped out of your catatonic state by crashing into someone for the second time today and falling flat on your ass.

“Oh! [Y/N] It's nice to see you again!” Oh it's Rengoku. “Hello Kyojuro, how's it been?” You said as he helped you up. You rubbed the small of your back as it hurt like hell. Either it's to big or to small, not like you care. “Ive been doing well! Thanks for asking! But it seems that we both need to pay attention more often!” Kyojuro laughed like, obnoxiously loud as you awkwardly laughed as well. “So i gotta get to history so can you please move?” There was like a minute left to get to class so you had to do the dash in order to be there on time.

“Well it looks like you're in luck! The history classroom is rate behind you!” Kyojuro had exclaimed. What. The. F u c k. Bruh you've been looking for it the whole time since Akaza had left you to you're own devices, and you walked rate passed it. Those four minutes of searching this hall was in vain. “Heh... Yeah- i totally know that! I was waiting for someone!” Kyojuro had seemingly smiled even more, “Oh! You've made friends! That's amazing, i thought I would have to put you in a social program!” Bruh, way to think highly of me Renbozo... Touche...

“So where are they? They're almost late for class?” Kyojuro put his thumb and pointer on his chin. “wait don't you have classes to go to?” Giving the fire man a questioning gaze, he just laughed boisterously again. “I don't have any classes right now, so I'm going to be going to the library to study some things before lunch!” Oh great. Now you have to pray that someone took longer to get here than you. Where's Taylor when you need him?

But someone came to your rescue, they still out like a sore thumb with his all red uniform and weird hat. “Oh that's him, gotta go!” You waved goodbye to Kyojuro as he looked around confused. Noticing the guy, his face fell. Welp you've dug your grave when Kyojuro had grabbed you're shoulder.

“Hey? What's wrong?” But it seemed that he turned deaf for a minute as he opened the door and gently pushed you inside. “I hope you enjoy your class! But we need to talk at the end of the day if you're free! See you then!” Kyojuro gave you one last smile before shutting the door in your face.

“Rude...” you mumbled as you turned around to see everyone was either talking or reading. Not even being able to walk for two seconds the door behind you opened, and what came in was total hell.

“Oh are you knew? I kinda recognize you from earlier today? Well why don't we get to know each other hmm?” A arm wrapped around you're shoulder as the most annoying voice came out as he dragged you over to his seat. “Here you can sit next to me! No one sits there anyway’s!” Just wanting to get this over with as fast as possible you just sat down. Turning to the guy to see he also has rare feature’s.

Literally rainbow eye's, how marry sue can you get my guy?

“Oh i almost forgot my name's Doma! What's yours? It's probably pretty!” He rambled as he propped his head up with his knuckle. His cheek pressed against the back of his hand as he patently waited for you're response. Realizing that he'd asked you something, you sighed and looked away from his weirdly softly intense gaze. “Its [Y/N]-” “As i expected! Pretty, but it also sounds foreign? Where are you from? I promise i wont judge!” His curiosity was annoying as hell. So you tuned his rambling out as you looked around to see anyone familiar. Spotting a certain tan fellow you're heart had felt like it had exploded in relief.

You were about to get up but a certain Doma had yet again wrapped his arm around you're head and brought you into an awkward hug. “Aww, do you not like me? Also you're skin is very smooth and soft-” “-OKAY, that's enough! Do you know what personal space is?” You said as you pushed away from the strangely muscular teenager? Idk you don't know his age. He just tilted his head and you rubbed your temple's. Looking back at Taylor as he had gave you a smile. Also seeing a empty desk next to him. Operation escape this weirdo is in a go.

Then the worst timing happened yet again. The teacher had finally made it, just to make you're life in this class a living hell.

Doma smiled as he kept the same position, just with his arm slang over the back of his chair. Literally faceplanting into your desk Doma giggled. “I guess you're stuck with me!”

Oh how you wanted to strangle him...

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Taisho Secrets !

Doma in this universe has emotions; just bumped up to 1000

Kyojuro had been thinking about you the whole day

Inouske actually had history but forgot where it was

Akaza plays base guitar as well as a violin but mostly base

Taylor wanted to get up and sit next to you but the teacher came in as soon as he got up

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And now everything after this is of my own ideas! I mostly write the plot as i go.