#also the key with the ribbon on the guys chest - the guy is the cover of love will tear us apart lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monstersandmaw · 11 months ago

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Male kelpie (dad-bod, single father, biker) x plus size f. reader - Part One (sfw)

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

CW: there is a very brief moment where a character (not Oats!) insults the reader for her size and uses some fat-phobic language towards and about her, unaware that she can hear him. If you’re sensitive to that, it is brief, but you can skip from “…you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.” to the paragraph beginning, “After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror…”. Also, if you squint, there’s a passing moment that could possibly be interpreted as the reader having some potential issues with food, but it’s not intended to be a big deal and it’s only for about two sentences. Still putting it in here too, just in case.

Wordcount: 7562

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” you managed to croak back at him before returning your attention, however reluctantly, to present options for your brother while the older man, Hank, hobbled out around the corner of the wooden counter to chat amicably with the man. You couldn’t hear what was said as the two chatted in lower voices, but it was evident that they were good friends. While they talked, however, you couldn’t help noticing that he stole occasional sidelong glances in your direction, and you felt your face warm pleasantly.

‘Oats’ was certainly an unusual nickname, but then again, almost everyone who rode with your brother also had their own nicknames for one reason or another. As you browsed, you wondered what Oats had done to earn that one. He certainly looked like a snack to you, but you vowed not to let your attraction to the stranger show. Awkward situations (or worse, silences) tended to arise when you let that happen.

He had a tanned, outdoorsy complexion, and longish, black hair that was tied back in a low ponytail that brushed below the collar of his black leather jacket. It looked like it had a tendency to flop into his face when not restrained by that out-of-place pink bow. He filled out the jacket very well, and clearly had a soft paunch, and his thighs looked frankly delectable in those thick, indigo jeans. You prayed you wouldn’t have to see him fully from the back if he turned around, to witness the way he filled out the seat of his jeans too.

Fuck. Concentrate.

Bike gifts for brother, not delicious-looking stranger you’re never going to see again.

“Well, I shouldnae hang about, I suppose.”

Oats’ voice cut through your musings in front of chain degreasers and you jumped a little. Glancing back over at him, you offered him a smile when he too turned to look at you one last time, and a slow, charming smile crept onto his handsome face.

“See you,” he said with a dip of his head. Before he strode from the shop though, he let his eyes roam once more down the length of you and he bit his lower lip, almost regretfully, then turned away abruptly.

Oh yes. He absolutely did fill out the ass of those jeans beautifully.

Quite honestly, you weren’t totally sure what you ended up getting your brother for his birthday. You took whatever it was to the counter in a daze, your mind replaying over and over the way he’d looked at you.

“Must say,” Hank said conspiratorially as he fished your change from the antique cash register and slid it across the polished, wooden counter towards you. “I’ve never seen Oats quite so taken with someone, miss.” He chuckled, his kind, whisky-brown eyes glinting. “You take care now.”

Swallowing, you nodded and left the shop, hoping perhaps to find Oats waiting for you outside on the street, leaning against his motorcycle, but life was not a movie, and wherever he was, he was not lingering in the hopes of seeing you. In fact, the street was completely deserted, so you crossed, clambered into your little hatchback, and drove home with the feeling that you’d let a pivotal moment in your life pass you by.

Your sour mood persisted like a raincloud for the whole week, but by the time you were driving over to your brother’s on Saturday for his birthday ride, you were trying to pull yourself out of it. You had your own helmet with you, secured in the back of the car, and beside it was (now wrapped) the present you’d got him. In fact, it was a chain care kit, and, although you hadn’t noticed at the time, Hank had thrown in a free keychain that said ‘In my defence, I was left unsupervised’ which was very on-brand for your brother. You had planned to go back and thank him for the freebie as soon as you could, but your brother’s birthday ride had been planned for that Saturday, and work had been hell that week, so you’d not had the chance.

Predictably, Alex wasn’t in the house when you rang the doorbell, so you followed the sound of metallic clinking and laughter, and went round the side to find him tinkering with his mad little Honda Grom in the garage, while his two best mates — Eggs and Sparky — were lounging around and either making unhelpful suggestions or lewd comments.

“Yo!” Sparky grinned when he saw you, sitting up straighter and almost falling off the mechanic’s tool chest he was leaning his weight against. At Sparky’s exclamation, your brother sat up and banged his head on the handlebars of the short little Grom with a curse.

“Hey,” you mumbled in Sparky’s general direction. “Happy birthday, Alex.”

Alex scrambled upright and came over to hug you, probably smearing grease and dirt all over your armoured jacket, but since it was black anyway, you didn’t mind too much. Alex was about as opposite to you as it was possible to get — straight up and down like a beanpole, and tall. You took after your mother, inheriting all her thick curves and soft edges. Soft heart too.

“Thought this might come in handy,” you mumbled when Alex released you and you held out the brown paper bag stamped with the logo of Full Moon Motorcycles.

His eyes lit up when he saw the logo, and he tore into it like a chipmunk after a peanut, grinning in delight when he’d dismembered it, and in particular he showed off the keychain to his mates. Eggs snatched it and tried to claim it for himself, but Alex was having none of it, and the three of them scrapped and goofed around while you sat down on an old, metal stool in the corner and waited for the other two of your small party to show up, with a cool, curdling kind of dread in the pit of your stomach when you heard one name in particular. Nooner.

Within an hour though, you were all out on the road.

You took the pillion seat behind Alex, and warded his mates off at red lights when they came for his killswitch to immobilise him. A while later though, Alex zoomed off down the open road that would take you all out of town and towards the somewhat famous biker cafe, ‘Elusive Neutral’, that sat nestled amongst the fragrant heather of the rolling hills surrounding the old market town.

The sky was a gorgeous, autumnal blue and the weather was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold, and as your brother’s Yamaha flew along the winding A-road that was every biker’s dream, you cracked a smile and gently tipped your head back. As much as it had scared you when you’d first ridden behind your mother all those years ago, you did love the feeling of being out on a bike. Not that you were actually brave enough to want to try and learn yourself though. Something always held you back, made you wary and unsure, and then you inevitably felt down about that too. God, you wished you had Alex’s wild confidence.

Nothing good ever seemed to last for you though, and when Alex’s R1 had purred into the car park behind Eggs and Sparky, and you’d hopped off to let him reverse more easily into a space, you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.

“…if he didn’t have his fat sister with him, we could have fucking ripped it up along those twisties.” That, of course, had come from Nooner, named for the fact that he rarely stuck to two wheels and always pulled wheelies, or ‘nones’, whenever he got the chance. Out of all of your brother’s friends, he was the one you liked the least, for… obvious reasons.

“Talk about killing the vibes, huh?” Eggs replied, trying to suck up to him, as ever. “More like ‘crushing’!”

The reason Eggs had earned his nickname was that he’d lost a bet and shaved his head when they’d all been about sixteen, and he’d looked like a boiled egg til it grew back. You wished you had the sass to remind him of that every time his spine seemed to crumble in favour of earning a half-hearted snicker out of Nooner.

When Alex joined you, he caught the crestfallen expression on your face and frowned, but you shook your head and walked away from them, heading for the cafe alone.

“Can’t wait to shove some cake in her fat gob already,” Nooner added as an aside to Eggs, and your vision blurred as tears welled along your lashes. Why did people have to be so cruel? To trample all over someone else just to feel a little taller themselves?

You vaguely heard what sounded like Sparky’s voice countering the comment, but you didn't stick around either way. If you mentioned it to your brother again, he’d just say it was banter with the guys and not to take it to heart. Easy for someone who's never been on the end of that kind of comment to shrug it off, after all.

You ducked straight for the toilets when you got inside the airy, modern cafe, not even bothering to look around or find a table first.

After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror to see that you hadn’t turned your eyeliner into a panda cosplay, you headed out again and made for the little bar that doubled as a counter for people who were there solo to sit and eat instead of taking up a whole table to themselves. None of your brother’s friends joined you, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw that they’d settled themselves around a table in the far corner and already had a number for a server to bring their food order over. They hadn’t even waited for you.

“Fuck them,” you hissed through gritted teeth, taking a seat at the bar instead. The stools were made of old tractor seats, and they were surprisingly comfortable, and as you leaned your forearms on the countertop, the young woman behind the counter came over to you with a smile that made you feel a little better.

“Hey,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

You ordered a hot drink, and then took out your phone while you waited for her to make it for you.

For half an hour or so, you sat scrolling through social media and sipping your drink and telling yourself this was your brother’s day and not yours. He did come over a couple of times, but you declined to sit with his friends, and because he’d never had any real reason to doubt you before, he took you at your word when you told him you were happy enough where you were. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you said, and he believed you.

Patting you on the shoulder, he left you for the third time, and you looked down into the dregs of your drink with a heavy sigh. “This sucks.”

Outside, the sound of more bikes arriving made your ears perk up, and you wondered idly what they rode. Elusive Neutral had once been an old cattle barn, but it had been completely redone and the walls on two sides had been replaced with vast picture windows that showed the sweeping expanse of moorland beyond, and a small sliver of the car park at one end. Craning your neck, you saw a group of maybe five or six bikers draw up, some on hipster looking cafe racers and others on racy sports bikes. There was even a Ducati Panigale among them, and behind them followed an old, battered, blue pickup truck.

The door opened a little while later, and you glanced over, eyes drawn instinctively by the movement.

Above the general chatter and merry chinking of china in the room, the energy of the new group of bikers rose like a cloud of dizzy mayflies; buzzing and excited and full of joy. You watched them all with interest from your perch at the counter.

The first through the door was an absolute Amazon of a woman, with her long black hair restrained in a thick braid, and shoulders the width of a barn door. She was lean and tall, and in her biker gear she looked… incredible. Her face was strikingly handsome, but until she glanced down at the woman walking beside her, her features were hard and glowering and unspeakably stern. She held the door open for one of the others to follow her inside, but when she locked eyes again with the brunette by her side, her whole expression melted into unguarded adoration. Your gut twisted briefly with jealousy.

It wouldn’t matter to you who looked at you like that, if only someone would.

You looked away, and by the time you glanced back at the bikers, the whole group had filed in from outside. There was a guy with golden-brown skin and beautiful dark brown eyes who had his arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a pale, skinny guy in black jeans and a moth-eaten, black jumper, with his long hair tied back in a bun, and behind them came a strikingly attractive guy in a manual wheelchair, flanked by a very short biker with slightly anaemic looking skin. You wondered fleetingly if the guy in the wheelchair had ridden a motorbike there, and if so how, before you realised he was probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, with long, flowing red hair and dark green eyes, and the kind of mouth that was made for laughing, and for kissing.

Jesus, was it an unwritten rule of being a biker that you had to be unfairly attractive? Even Hank, who you recognised with a start of surprise coming in behind the guy with red hair, wasn’t unattractive, in a bulky, older man kind of way.

The guy walking with him though… he truly made your stomach swoop.

It was Oats.

You looked away before he could spot you, sitting alone at the bar like some pathetic creature waiting for cocktail hour to begin. It was lunchtime on a sunny, autumnal Saturday though, and there you were sitting alone because you didn’t fancy sitting with your brother’s loser mates.

God, the way Oats had looked in his tough-looking leather jacket, with his eyes crinkled mid-laugh at something the guy in the wheelchair had shot back at them over his shoulder… You bit your lip and stared into the bottom of your cold, empty mug like it would divine some kind of solution to your situation for you.

The new group didn’t seem to notice you while they filed up to the counter, jostling and joking, and when they drifted off to another corner of the cafe, you turned back to your phone, trying desperately to resist the almost overwhelming urge to keep turning over your shoulder to watch them.

Before too long however, you startled at a soft tap on your shoulder, and you looked around to find Oats himself stepping back to a polite distance and smiling down at you like he’d found a treasure in an unexpected place.

“Hey there,” he said in that rolling, Scottish accent that did unspeakably indecent things to your insides. “Sorry if I’m intruding, but you were at Full Moon last week, right?”

Mute for a moment, you nodded, and mustered up a slightly dazed smile for him.

“You… here alone?” he asked, eyeing the currently-empty seats to your left and right. In fact, someone had only just gathered up their belongings and left.

“Kind of?” you croaked, letting your eyes slide over to the table where your brother and his friends were hunched over one of their phones, snickering at something. “It’s… It’s my brother’s birthday today. I… tagged along as pillion, but… you know… I’m kind of a spare part really.”

At that, Oats’ dark eyebrows knitted into a scowl and he looked across the room at them before returning his attention to you. Then, his unearthly, almost prismatic, silver-green eyes took in your empty cup and he grinned. “Can I get y’a top up?”

Your instinct was to refuse, but you bit your lip. This didn’t feel real. A cute, handsome, courteous guy was actually taking an interest in you.

“Sure. Thank you.” And the smile that spread itself across your face telegraphed your delight in a way that was impossible to disguise with any kind of suave grace.

Oats, however, seemed equally delighted, and nodded. The barista came back over and he leaned his weight on the counter to talk to her. He seemed to have that enviably easy manner with everybody, and he even charmed a free slice of cake out of her too with what felt like no effort at all.

“Chocolate? Or something else?” he asked you.

“Pardon?”

“Cake.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” you said, but he frowned.

“You sure? I’m gonna have a bit of their chocolate cake. It’s so good, it’s practically a sin.”

“I…” you faltered.

He didn’t pressure you though and shrugged easily, turning back to the barista. “Gimme two forks with that, love. Just in case.”

“No problem,” she beamed back while she bustled about, and Oats eyed the empty bar stool next to yours.

“May I?”

You swallowed your nerves and nodded. “Please.” And then, because apparently a demon of confidence had temporarily possessed you, you eyed his slightly helmet-flattened forelock and said, “No pink hair clips today?”

He guffawed loudly enough that your brother actually glanced over and frowned when he saw you talking with a stranger.

Oats snorted and shook his head. “No, not today. My daughter is still up in Scotland with her mother.” He fixed you with a more serious look and said, “She and I divorced, before you get the wrong idea about me flirting like this with a beautiful woman.”

The compliment caught you so off-guard that you just froze for a moment, but when the heat of a blush filled your face, you looked away and he chuckled.

“I’m not normally so forward, but I’ve been kicking myself for not talking to you when I first saw you in Full Moon. Hank was telling me just this morning what a muppet I’d made of myself for walking away like that.”

You looked behind you at the group of his friends and then turned back to him. “Won’t they think you’re being rude, ignoring them like this?”

He shook his head and smiled. “They’re probably all taking bets on how quickly you’ll shoot me down.”

“What? I’d have to be an idiot to do that.”

At that, his face split into a huge, handsome grin and he shook his head just a little. “Lucky me,” he said. “You ride?” he added, eyeing your jacket that was obviously a motorcycle jacket.

You shrugged. “Pillion. I’ve never ridden myself, but my brother lets me come out with him sometimes.”

Oats nodded, and then, as the barista set down his coffee, your top-up, and the plate of decadent chocolate cake with two forks, he said, “I’m Euan, by the way, but everyone calls me Oats.”

You introduced yourself, and then said, “Oats?”

He snorted and nodded. “Not the worst nickname, for sure.”

“Can I ask where it came from?”

Oats nodded and shunted the plate towards you first before leaning his elbow on the bar and watching you while he spoke. “I think it’s because I’m a dad, but I’m always prepared for most situations, and when it comes to my Natalie, she’s always hungry. I’ve usually got about a thousand granola bars stashed away about my person —” he said, cutting himself off to pat conspicuously at his jacket pockets. Pulling a slightly dog-eared crunchy bar from his breast pocket, he wielded it like a magic wand at you and said, “Case in point.”

“Hence, Oats,” you said, eyeing the healthy brand name on the packet.

“Exactly. Like I said, it could be worse. See the tall lass over there with the dangerous scowl?”

You didn't need to turn around to know which of his friends he was talking about, but you did anyway. “Yeah.”

“We call her Pixie.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” he chuckled, stowing the granola bar back into his pocket and taking a huge scoop of the chocolate cake with his own fork.

“What do you ride then?” you asked.

“Triumph Bonneville T120,” he said with almost exactly the same intonation and fondness as he’d just said ‘because I’m a dad’, and you couldn’t help smiling. “Can’t be doing with all these glitzy sports bikes and the like,” he added with a laugh, setting his fork down and blinking slowly. His lashes, you noticed, were thick and dark and enticingly long.

Laughing, you smiled. “Don’t say that too loudly — my brother rides an R1.”

“Nice,” Oats grinned back. “But nothing could entice me away from my girl.”

“I’m surprised you’re here, flirting with me then,” you said. Evidently that confidence demon was still lurking.

Again, Oats laughed, though it was more of a low whicker this time, and it rolled right through you and lit you up all over. God, how long had it been since someone had laughed like that for you?

“There are… exceptions,” he said in a rumbling murmur. “Tell me about yourself?” he asked, and you did.

You spent the next hour at least talking in an easy back and forth with him while he charmed a few more refills from the barista and a lot of answers out of you, before one of his friends sidled up shyly and waited for a lull in your conversation.

“Sorry to butt in,” the small, unbelievably beautiful woman said. She was the one who’d been on the receiving end of the adoring look from the Amazon, ‘Pixie’. She had chocolate-brown hair falling in thick ringlets around a gorgeous face, and, you were pleased to note, she had wide hips and a softness to her that a lot of the biker chicks you’d seen online didn’t have.

“Coco,” Oats beamed. “Meet my new friend.” He introduced you by name, and Coco smiled at you, holding out her hand.

When your palms connected, you felt a warmth rush through you and you felt like your heart skipped a beat. The feeling like you could tip forwards and drown in her endless, dark brown eyes almost unseated you, but she let go of you and stepped back with a pretty smile on her Cupid’s-bow lips. “Pleasure to meet you. Just wanted to tell Oats that we’re thinking of heading off soon. Ariel has a photoshoot he wants to get to in an hour or so, and Demon’s keen to get going as well.”

Oats nodded, and you tried not to let your stomach drop down to your boots at the thought of all this coming to such an abrupt end.

Coco turned her head sharply to look at you just as the feeling hit, and she smiled faintly. “You could always stay here though, Oats,” she added with a pretty smile. “We’re only going back to Full Moon, and Demon clearly has no intention of lingering there…” She shot a meaningful glance back at their table. Demon, the guy with dark hair and tanned skin, was seated with the guy he’d entered with now draped in his lap, his skinny legs dangling as he sprawled languidly back against the guy’s muscular chest. Demon whispered something into his ear before he clearly bit the shell of his boyfriend’s ear, which made him sit abruptly upright and flush a vibrant pink.

Oats laughed again and shook his head. “Fuck me,” he chuckled privately. “Never thought I’d see the day. You guys go on. I’m… I’m very much content here.”

“I can see that,” Coco smirked, and walked away.

When she was out of earshot, you turned to Oats with a hot flush of your own in your face and said, “Don’t stay if you don’t want to… I’m sure my brother will be leaving soon anyway…”

Just as you said that, and before Oats could reply, Alex reappeared at your side and jutted his chin in Oats’ direction. “You good?” he chirped at you.

“Fine,” you replied. “This is Oats. I met him at Full Moon Motorcycles when I was buying your birthday present.”

“Oh,” Alex replied, holding out his hand for Oats to shake. “Good to meet you, man. You tell her what to get for me? If you did, it was a good choice.”

“No,” Oats said carefully, his grey-green eyes sliding back to your face even while he shook your brother’s hand amicably. “No, whatever she got you, it was all her.”

“Oh, cool,” Alex said. “Listen, sis, we’re gonna hit the road in a while. Nooner and Eggs want to hit the twisties for a bit, but I can’t really do that with a backpack, so Sparky said he’d give you a ride home, if that’s ok.”

You swallowed. “Um…”

“I can give her a lift,” Oats replied after a swift glance in your direction. “She’s already got her own lid, and there’s room on the Bobber’s double seat for both of us.”

“I don’t know, man,” Alex said with a wary frown.

“Your choice,” Oats shrugged easily, looking at you and holding his hands up just a little.

For a fleeting moment, you weren’t sure, but the idea of wrapping your arms around Oats’ thick middle and sitting astride his gorgeous bike kind of decided it for you. Besides, it was a long time since you’d done anything truly just for yourself; simply because you wanted to. You nodded at your brother. “It’s fine. You go ahead.”

“You sure?”

Nodding to reassure him, you smiled again and Alex backed up a pace. “Cool. Text me later, ok?” he said as he retreated towards his friends, clearly trying to hide his excitement at not having a passenger for the great, twisting section of A-road they were heading for.

“Will do. Have fun, and don’t crash!” you called after him. “Or get a speeding ticket!”

He waved a hand over one shoulder without looking back, and you laughed and returned your attention to Oats. “Brothers.”

“Bikers,” he replied. “You try telling that to any of that lot though —” he gestured towards his own group of friends who were now filtering out of the door. “You ready to head out too or do you want to stay?”

You did want to stay, but the seat wasn’t that comfortable anymore, and you wanted to move around a bit. “No, I’m good to go,” you said and prepared to slide off the stool, but Oats stepped down first and held out his hand to you. You didn't need helping down, and his playful little smirk told you he knew as much, so you rode out the last of that demonic possession and let your fingers slide across his palm and he steadied you off the stool.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Pleasure.”

You picked up your helmet from where you’d stowed it on the floor at your feet and straightened to find him waving casually across the room to the good-looking guy with the ethereally pretty boyfriend. Before he stepped away from you and made towards the door though, you cleared your throat and said, “Oats?”

“Mn?” Looking down at you, his entire attention honed in on you, like you were the centre of the universe, and you swallowed back a sudden welling of emotion.

“Listen… Thank you… for… coming over to me today. Like I said, it’s my brother’s birthday, and he was here with his friends, and he only included me so I didn’t feel completely left out, but…” Accursed tears washed over your eyes for a moment but you blinked them away furiously and ploughed on regardless. “I’m really glad I came along today anyway,” you finished rather pathetically.

His full, beautiful lips curled into a gentle smile and he blinked softly and exhaled. When he spoke, his voice was low and his words private, as though you weren’t standing in a busy cafe surrounded by people and the cheerful clatter of coffee cups and laughter. “I’m really glad I did too. I wasn’t going to, you know? I was going to stay at home and edit a boatload of raw photographs for a client, but Demon convinced me to come out. I guess I owe him.”

“‘Demon’? For… For the speed?” you asked, wondering how he came by his nickname.

“For the horns,” Oats replied in deadpan humour. “Have a look if he’s still there when we go outside. You ready?”

You followed him out of the cafe with a nod, and just as you took a deep, indulgent breath of fresh, heathland air, Oats’ group of friends filed out past you on their bikes. The one named Demon was in the lead, and the nickname made immediate sense. Sitting astride a blood-red Panigale, with his boyfriend clinging on behind him like a limpet, the guy had pale, curving horns fixed to the crown of his helmet.

“Yeah, that tracks,” you said, and Oats waggled his dark eyebrows.

The Amazon had a Yamaha R1 like your brother’s, but hers had a pearl-white wrap that made it look almost spectral, and riding out in front of her was Coco on a yellow and black Honda Hornet.

The telltale red plait told you that the guy in the wheelchair was on a modified Kawasaki, with unusual struts at the back that looked like they would come down when he stopped to stabilise him instead of having to take his legs off the foot pegs, where they were currently Velcro-ed in place. Watching the whole group file out was Hank, standing beside a battered old pickup. In the bed of the truck, you could just see that the red-headed biker’s wheelchair secured in place.

Hank waved the last of them off, then glanced over at Oats. The older man lifted his nose just a little, as if he too was enjoying the fresh, moorland wind that whipped across the car park, and he nodded once at Oats, and then at you to your surprise, before clambering stiffly up into his pickup and closing the door. It shut with a raucous yelp of rusty hinges.

You stood there and watched Oats’ friends all file out, all waving at Oats as they passed, before they set off down the road in a roar of revving engines to leave a lonely looking Bonneville waiting patiently near the stone wall of the car park nearby.

“Yours, I presume?” you said, nodding at it.

“Yup.”

“She’s a beauty,” you mumbled, self-consciousness prickling at the sides of your neck for the silly comment.

Oats beamed though, his sea-foam eyes lighting up as the crinkles around his eyes and the slight dimples in his cheeks creased under the force of his obvious pleasure. “Thank you. She’s my pride and joy. You ready? Oh, wait, you should put your address into my phone before we get going,” he laughed.

You nodded, taking the offered phone from him. Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you took it, and a tiny thrill passed through you that you did your best to quash. With your address plugged in and a route home waiting to be followed, you handed it back to him and looked up into his handsome, rugged face as he smiled.

“Cheers. Let’s go,” he said, and you trailed along beside him over to his bike, heartbeat thudding in your ears with your nerves.

He swung a leg over and turned the key, then pushed the bike upright and nudged the side-stand in with his left foot before flicking the switch and bringing the bike to life. She growled beautifully, the low, thundering rumble of her engine sounding far more visceral and primal than your brother’s sports bike did. Perhaps it was the design of the lower-slung Bonneville, with its visible parts that made you think of a Steampunk aesthetic, but you instantly preferred it. Plus, the double seat looked way more cushioned — and less precarious — than the one you’d perched on to get to the cafe that morning.

Oats got himself comfy while you slid your helmet on, then he looked over his shoulder at you and nodded, so you took that as your cue and got settled on the pillion seat behind him. The footpegs were already down. The pulsing purr of the machine beneath you was almost enough to distract you from the fact that you were entrusting your life to a relative stranger, whom you’d never seen ride before, and as you climbed on and rested your hands politely on his shoulders, you felt a shiver travel through your whole nervous system.

“Do whatever’s comfortable for you, obviously,” Oats said over the noise of his bike, “But if you want to hold my waist — if you can actually get your arms around my middle, that is,” he chuckled self-effacingly, “— feel free. Totally up to you.”

“Thanks,” you yelled back, and, because apparently that pesky demon of confidence was still kicking around, you hugged his torso.

It was wonderful.

Slowly snaking your arms around his middle, you felt your chest press against his back and you caught the way he inhaled slowly and tried not to wonder what it meant. It felt so good to hold him that you had to remind yourself it wasn’t a hug. It was to keep you in place while a gorgeous stranger drove you home on his equally gorgeous bike. With a final thumbs-up to check you were happy, to which you replied with a nod of your head and tried not to clack your helmet against his, he pulled away and your heart leapt for the sheer joy of it.

Where the R1 was built for sleek speed and bursts of power, the Bonneville was build to be enjoyed, and oh gosh, did you enjoy every curve.

And not just the curves in the road, either.

Oats was soft, but he was solid, and the urge to rest one hand on his thick thigh was almost overwhelming, until he took the corners at just the right pace to be exhilarating without you having to worry about your safety, and you clung on instead and laughed behind the safety of your visor.

It was all over way too soon, and as the Bonneville chugged into your road like a steam train and halted outside your poky, terraced house with its quaint little kitchen garden out the front in the postage-stamp of space between the pavement and the house, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Please don’t let this be it, you thought desperately.

You went through the motions of getting carefully off the bike without staggering or falling, and again, Oats held out his hand to help steady you. You gripped his fingers gratefully and when you gave an extra little squeeze to his hand at the end, you could have sworn he answered with one of his own and a throaty chuckle.

He dismounted too, which surprised you, and you wondered if you were going to have to ask him inside. As much as you wanted that in principle, you desperately didn’t want it to happen today because the house was a mess: laundry was still hanging up all over the place, and you’d cooked a curry the previous night and it was definitely still lingering in the air.

Oats took off his helmet but left his bike idling, which went a little way to reassuring you, and when you looked more closely at his expression, you thought you saw a hint of something familiar lingering in the corners of his eyes. Was he nervous?

Swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing behind the thick, 5 o’clock shadow that looked like it lingered pretty constantly no matter the time of day, Oats took a deep breath, held it, and then smiled at you. “Fuck,” he exhaled, and laughed. “I’m… very rusty at all this.” He held his helmet in both hands before him, toying with the strap.

“If I gave you my number, would you maybe like to meet up again?” you asked, taking pity on the man.

“Very much,” he said softly. “Like I said, Natalie is with her mum for the holidays, and apart from a wedding I’m covering next week, this is a pretty slow time of year for me. I’m free… mostly whenever.”

The reminder that he had a daughter with someone else did make you wonder what you were letting yourself in for. Children weren’t really something you had any expense of, since neither you nor your brother had shown any parental inclinations yet, and you weren’t particularly close to your cousins who had small kids.

“Ok, let me give you my number and we can figure something out.”

That done, he slid his phone back into his pocket and zipped it up, biting gently at his lower lip for a moment. “I know it’s bold,” he said, “But may I kiss you?”

Your heart skipped and soared. Breathless, you looked up at him and whispered, “Yes.”

His tiny, gentle, lopsided smile heralded the kiss’ approach, and he took your jaw delicately in one, leather-gloved hand as he leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft but insistent against yours, and you answered with a little moan as your eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, pulling you closer with a low growl so that you were pressed flush against him for a moment before he stepped back and exhaled roughly. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded, feeling like you were floating inches above the ground.

You watched him re-mount his bike and adjust himself a little once he was settled, then he revved it playfully for you, and rode away after a final look back at you. He flipped his visor down as he pulled away, and you watched the bike and its rider disappear down the road.

‘Soon’ couldn’t come soon enough…

I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please consider showing your support by reblogging. It really is the best (and totally free!) way to help the artists and writers whose work you enjoy.

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#oats the kelpie #monster romance #kelpie #male kelpie x female human #full moon motorcycles #supernatural biker group #plus size female reader #plus size reader #male kelpie x female reader #male monster x female reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #dadbod monster #dadbod #single father monster #monster dad

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helicxx · 11 months ago

Note

Haiiiiii im literally into all the same things as you are HEHAHA

can i have a hypmic matchup please? (Platonic)

Im average height and weight, i have pale skin and straight black hair, shoulder length which is normally in low pigtails with some ribbons, i also have bangs that cover my left eye, my eyes are hazel and i normally dress in all white, white blouse, skirt, tights, and flats

Im an infj, im extremely shy irl, and im selectively mute, if im in class im usually staring wide eyed at something while day dreaming HEHHAA

I am extremely childish 🙁 One of my favourite pass times is curling up in bed with a bunny plushie ive had since i was a toddler (a bit embarassing, im 16 😭), i sometimes catch myself sucking on my finger and im just like WHAT r u doing. 😭 my favourite colours are black, pink and white.

I struggle a bit with an eating disorder, and due to this im very motherly? I always make sure my friends are eating properly and are happy, although im shy to show affection. a bit of tough love is definitely what i use :3

Im very into visual kei!! I also really love lolita fashion, both vkei and lolita influence my style a TON

I have piercings! I have a labret, and snakebites which have spiky hoops

Im not really the best in school, getting motivation to study is REALLY hard, iykyk🙁🙁

hi hi!!! ty for putting in a req, it's nice to meet u, and u seem rly cool!

hope you like ur matchup :)

Jyushi Aimono !!

I'm gonna be so fr, this is based purely off of vibes (plus the vkei factor ofc!)

Jyushi as a homie would be AMAZING. Don't know how to do eyeliner?? Don't worry, homeboy's got you covered (I mean, LOOK at his eyeliner game.)

I'd also like to add in the bonus of CONCERTS. Jyushi concerts would be awesome!

I think you'd also have that really nice, crunchy, aesthetic contrast clothing wise!

Having jewelry trades with Jyushi would be the best thing ever. Take one look at him and tell me that he doesn't have a chest filled to the brim with earrings.

Imagine shopping with this guy. I firmly believe that he's a devoted price haggler. Too expensive? Don't worry. A bit of talking and you'll get your deals. He definitely knows the best clothing stores. Being a vkei musician comes with its perks.

never let me cook with matchups ever again i have no clue what i'm doing.

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loki-son-of-odin · 2 years ago

Text

So I wanted to show a poem I got my first A on. Inspired by my mum.

The Second Drawer Down

We don’t let strangers look in the second drawer down.

The second drawer down is a Pandora’s box.

The frat boy next door has a long dusty train of unopened condoms

Next to the pile of coins covered in colonisers coppered portraits.

Used only for opening beer bottles, and lame tricks, dude.

The girl across the road has an abstract canvas of makeup powder,

And a bag of a paler variety.

A laptop, damaged and dormant, from her uni days,

Birthday candles, half burned, hair-ties, never used.

ILY, habibi. You got this girl xx

The busy woman, mate moe,

Stressed, with an infant strapped to her chest.

The second drawer down is some dense forest

Of discarded children's books and singing toys that need to retire their career.

Kia kaha, kei te pai ki a koe

The boy down the road, just like any other,

Never outside, a daisy in an otherwise groomed lawn.

His drawer is filled with socks, scribbled drawings done in dry red marker.

LEGO, put together on surprisingly late nights,

A long shoelace, an old phone.

There’s a place for you somewhere.

The girl upstairs, she’s quiet and wears funny clothes,

Though she’s only silent in hopes you will follow suit.

Her drawer is full of wires, chargers for her headphones, speakers,

And phones that she has long since lost or broken, sometimes on purpose.

Perhaps she should book that therapy she’s been talking about.

The girl three doors down, hardworking and intelligent,

Her drawer is full of old stationary, often forgotten,

Perhaps she should throw these out, but what if she needs them next year?

Or the year after? Or if someone else needs it?

Another drawer filled with old poems and literary ventures,

Containing the things she doesn’t want to say out loud,

In case the other person doesn’t want to hear it.

The guy, a short walk from here, I haven’t seen him go out in a while.

His drawers, and floors, are filled with unread books,

Filled with loose cash to purchase disposable vapes,

That linger around the room; they’ve become decor at this point.

Another drawer has a bible, and Bob Dylan CD’s, not often played.

Guitars and dirty dishes rest upon these drawers,

Until he gets that inevitable spurt of energy to do something about it.

The man at the top of the hill, he’s always in his garage.

Working on interesting projects, with the door open,

Like he’s performing for someone.

His drawers are filled with screws and bolts,

Sawdust and sandpaper,

And a picture of his family, perhaps to remind himself why he’s working,

Why he tolerates the cuts and burns.

She’ll be right, mate.

My drawer is filled with broken lighters,

A tupperware of… well, leftovers, but not the kind you’d expect.

Guitar picks for a bass, I should really get back into,

Art supplies I bought on a whim, that I won’t use, but I might!

Old essays, Nick Drake CD’s, glasses I thought would make me seem more intelligent.

A cigarette I stole from my mother, well over a year now,

God, why do we keep this stuff?

Wires, dead laptops, ribbons and mismatched chopsticks.

CD’s, old writing, socks with multiple uses,

Drugs and sex toys.

All incredibly incriminating increments of our lives.

Stuff, junk, if it was anywhere other than the second drawer down,

Would paint us as monsters, taken by temptation.

Lucifer gave us the second drawer down, for us to hide his gifts.

Gifts that help us get through modernity.

It is also the place we store our delights,

Family photos, old rulers from our favourite teachers, songs that make us sing,

Little reminders of why we still march on,

In a world sprinting at full speed.

We don’t know why we keep the things in the second drawer down,

We always think it’s junk or something for a later date, that may come in handy.

Really it is a diary of our everyday lives,

Recording every small experience, with things that we can glance at or pick up,

Which makes us whisper to ourselves,

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that”,

With a twinge of embarrassment and perhaps an undertone of joy,

Or despair.

Ashes of pets, medication from a hospital visit, a note from someone,

Who turned out to be less reliable than you thought.

All these can still hide behind the old candles and plasters,

It is how we put the past behind us,

In the most literal form we can comprehend.

-Me. 2022

#poetry #literature #creative #personal

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dulce-pjm · 4 years ago

Text

stepsisters and squires

word count: 11.0k

genre: fluff, angst

summary: as the story goes, the fairy godmother saved cinderella and sent her to ball. wrong. that was you. you were the one got the dress, the carriage, the glass slippers. but you’re also the one about to screw it all up. so much for happy endings.

warnings: parents slapping their children, swearing, bad dancing?

“Cinderella. Fetch me my ribbons.”

A look of disdain crosses her face before she rolls her eyes, tugging a little harder on your corset.

“Fetch them yourself, bitch. And stop using that stupid nickname.”

You laugh obnoxiously from your belly, only to have the life squeezed out of your lungs when she yanks on the corset strings, nearly cutting off your oxygen. Your giggles are quickly cut off with a shout of pain.

“I’m kidding, Sowon!” You throw up your hands and gasp when she pulls again. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.”

“You’re much too dramatic,” the girl mumbles, though she’s struggling to hide her grin. You ignore her.

“These things really are torture devices, you know. I don’t understand the point of even wearing them tonight, it’s not like I’m getting married!”

“Isn’t the whole point of the ball to get you engaged?” she asks, eyebrows raised. You glare at her in the mirror, but her eyes stay pinned on the back of your dress. Her light bangs barely hang over her eyes, her shiny, loose curls framing her soft cheekbones perfectly. You’ve always been a tad jealous of her natural beauty, but despite your insistence on the fact that she’s gorgeous, she never takes your compliments. You suppose the innocent humility only adds to her charm.

“My mother might say that, but we both know she’ll never pull it off. I’d much rather pig out at the pastry table than pretend to be interested in a lifelong marriage with some boring rich guy.”

“Not even a hot boring rich guy?” she counters. You stop to ponder that for just a moment too long, making your stepsister of several years giggle, the sound sweet and tinkling.

“What is it?” you shout incredulously, only making Sowon laugh harder, desperately holding onto the corset strings in an effort not to undo her hard work. “If I’m gonna have to commit to someone for the rest of my life, I might as well enjoy looking at them.”

“You have no morals,” Sowon says between spurts of laughter, her cheeks and nose tinged bright pink. You’re smiling widely too, her comment sparking the memory of a certain someone.

“Morals are no fun,” you retort, shifting uncomfortably in your gown. “Are you finished back there? I’m gonna pass out if I have to keep this posture any longer.”

“Just finished.” Sowon steps back to admire her work, letting you spin in your deep magenta ballgown. The skirt is covered in lace and intricate floral designs, the sleeves puffed and hemmed at your forearms, just as you prefer them. Makes it easier to eat without dirtying the cuffs. Sowon always takes extra care with your dresses, never failing to make you feel like a princess. It’s another trait of hers she refuses to accept is just extraordinary. Obnoxiously humble as always.

Sowon adjusts a pin in your hair, fashioned into a braided low bun, with just a few stray curls hanging by your ears. You can’t help but smile, excitement tickling at your stomach. Once Sowon gives you the nod of approval, you spring into action.

“Alright, I better go check on Jin- What are you doing?!” She cries in surprise as you forcefully take her shoulders, and move her to your bed. She falls back onto the comforter, barely upright.

“Just stay there!” you shout, dashing towards your dresser. She’s doe-eyed, her brows raised and mouth cutely pouted as she watches you in utter confusion. You rifle through your drawers until you see a suitable piece of fabric, a satin blue ribbon from a previous gown. You snatch it and rush back to Sowon, moving to tie it around her eyes. She throws up her hands before you can, wrapping her fingers around the cloth.

“What’s going on? Are you trying to blindfold me?”

“It’s a surprise!” you whine. “And yes, stupid girl, I’m clearly trying to blindfold you. It adds to the surprise factor.” Sowon forces an awkward smile onto her face, lowering the ribbon to her lap.

“Can’t we do without the blindfold? Since, you know…” You loll your head to the side in confusion before you realize your utter insensitivity. Sowon’s absolutely terrified of the dark, though she’d never let you say that out loud. Ever since she’d halfway divulged the secret to you, you’d made sure there was a lamp full of oil and a box of matches by the attic door every single night, silently creeping through the hallways as to prevent your mother or brother from catching you. To others, it might seem childish, but you knew that years of being locked away in a cold, dim room with creaking walls and leaking ceilings would give anyone nightmares. In your excitement, you’d nearly forgotten her phobia.

“Oh, of course! Just… think you can close your eyes? Please?” You puff out your lip and bat your lashes, making Sowon’s eyes fly to the ceiling for guidance.

“Why can’t you just show me the surprise?”

“It’s not in here!” you huff, gesturing towards the door. “We have to go get it.”

“You want me to walk with my eyes closed?”

“I’ll guide you!” You grab her hands, squeezing pleadingly. “It’ll be fine, just trust me!” Sowon gives you a long look full of hesitance and suspicion, but seeing your genuine excitement, she eventually gives.

“Fine.” You break into a smile, and pull her to her feet, tugging her down the hall. At your request, Sowon squeezes her eyes shut, stumbling slightly as you weave through the halls of the manor, laughing at her yelps every time her foot barely catches on the carpet or a loose stone in the flooring. And she calls you dramatic.

You approach the one room Sowon never cleans, the storage closet you’ve secretly turned into a home for the surprise you’ve been planning over the past few months, ever since the ball was announced. You bring your stepsister to a halt, screaming when she barely opens her eyes for a moment. After checking the surroundings for any stray family members (who certainly would not approve of your endeavor), you unlock the door with the key you always keep on you, letting it swing open with a large creak.

“Here it is!” you cry, finally allowing Sowon to open her eyes. She looks at your project and then stares at you blankly.

“What is this?” You roll your eyes and grab her arm, tugging her into the poorly lit room and shutting the door behind you.

“It’s your dress!” You fling your arms proudly towards the soft pink gown. You’d spent every last penny you could to make it as extravagant and royalty-like as you could, paying for the hem to be decorated with bows and the waistline to be embroidered with pearls. You were especially proud of the sweetheart neckline, a daring fashion choice that you thought would suit Sowon perfectly. “For the ball tonight. I saved up some money secretly and had it made for you. I know it isn’t much but when mother said all that, I had the idea and I just wanted you to have a dress that made you feel as pretty as you always make me- oof!”

Your impromptu rambling is cut off when Sowon nearly tackles you in a hug, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. She sniffles into your neck, and while your mother might have screamed at the possibility of her saltwater tears ruining your clothes, your chest is swelling with pride. You wrap your arms around your stepsister, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers. “Thank you, Y/N.” You give her a soothing pat on the back before breaking up the hug and stepping away. There will be time for being sappy later, but now, there’s work to do.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s no big deal. Now let’s put it on!” Sowon is smiling brightly, her cheeks practically glowing. Your roles are switched now as you’re the one attending to her attire, helping her pull the gown over her shoulders and lacing up an old corset of yours while she watches you through a large mirror you’ve leaned against the wall. You pretend not to notice the tears escaping past her lashes every few moments as she grins uncontrollably at her reflection. Her joy is contagious, infecting even your cynical mind. Even if you hate these stupid social events, seeing Sowon so excited made you remember that you had reasons to be excited too.

You pin up a few strands of hair and fasten a pearl comb into the crown of her scalp to compliment the dress. The gown you picked hugs her frame nearly perfectly despite the measurements being mostly guesswork. She looks stunning, absolutely regal, like she was made for this lifestyle. You finish up with only a few minutes to spare and step away, allowing her to bask in her own reflection. Now, tears are threatening to pour from your eyes as you take in your work. It wasn’t long ago that the younger girl barely spoke to you, her eyes always filled with fear and sorrow. There was only so much you could do for her under the hawk-eyes of your family, but you’re glad you’d done enough to see her this happy, even if only for a night.

“This is amazing, Y/N, I don’t know how I can thank you, but-”

“Thank me by coming tonight and dancing with a hot boring rich guy! But we can talk about that later.” Your voice lowers to a whisper. “Now, here’s the important part.” She leans in as you explain all of the preparations you’ve made over the past few months.

You tell her of the carriage and coachman ready for her a ten-minute walk away from town on the main road and which door to use to escape without one of your mother’s eyes and ears and catching her. You instruct her to wait exactly five minutes after you leave the room and then to sprint for the exit as fast as her legs would carry her without ruining her outfit. You tell her to stay away from your mother and brother, to avoid the main ballroom until after the first dances, at which time you, your mother, and Jin will move to the dining halls to mingle. And most importantly, you emphasize how imperative it is that she leave before midnight, before the servants lock the back doors and your mother is too tired to stay out any longer.

“Oh, and I almost forgot! Have fun and no matter how great it sounds, don’t drink the alcohol. It goes down like sugar but your head will be spinning in no time.” Sowon looks like her head is spinning now as she memorizes your instructions, nodding furiously.

“Okay, I won’t.” Her hands are shaking with anticipation, but you know her night of fun will quell the nerves. “You’re like a fairy godmother, you know.” You shrug lightly, pretending to flip your hair.

“What can I say? You deserve a magical night.” You smile earnestly before cracking open the door, making sure the coast is clear before you leave Sowon.

“Wait!” she whisper-yells before you can slip away. “What about shoes?” You nearly smack your hand against your forehead, internally scolding yourself for forgetting.

“There’s a box behind the mirror. Treat them well, they’re very fancy. Venetian glass. Custom fit, too.” Sowon laughs, assuring you that she will.

“Oh, don’t forget to tell your squire I said hello,” Sowon says teasingly as you step out into the hall. You rest your hand on your hip, giving her a knowing look.

“You know I won’t.”

“Really? Because that time I found you two it didn’t look like there was very much talking going on. I thought he was eating you ali-” You slam the door before she can finish, your cheeks heating. You can barely make out her laughter behind the thin walls as you scurry away to the front door, a dumb smile across your face.

You’d like to hope you both are in for a romantic night.

“You bitch.” Your mother’s hand smacks across your face and your head is forceful turned to the side. Jin watches you with slight sympathy in his expression, though he makes no move to aid you. He’s too much of a mother’s boy. “You helped her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you repeat, straightening your spine.

“Don’t play dumb,” Jin chimes in, arms crossed. “You told me that dress was yours two months ago when it was delivered.” You glare in his direction, having hoped he would have forgotten the entire encounter by now.

“You dare lie to me?” You ignore her, instead focusing on your brother, the one person who should be your ally.

“I’m surprised your memory goes that far back,” you sneer. “With your intelligence, you’d think you were dropped on your head as a child.” Your mother gasps, making you hiss as she strikes you again. Jin attempts to mask his feelings with a look of apathy, but the flicker of insecurity that flashes across his features is enough to make you feel victorious.

Your mother presses her fingers to her temples, looking to the heavens for guidance.

“What did I do to deserve such a disobedient child?” You open your mouth to snap a smart reply, but quickly shut it when you notice her hand still raised.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Jin says.

“You’re right, you’re right,” your mother replies, massaging her forehead and scalp. “I’ll deal with you both in the morning. For now-” She glares pointedly at you. “You will stay in my sight for the rest of the ball. You will be cooperative and pleasant and receptive and you will do exactly as I say. You will dance with every man that I pick for you, even if he’s ninety, and you will not eat a single bite unless I say you may. Am I understood?” You nod defeatedly, eyes pinned to the floor as your mother huffs, dragging you out of the small side room and back into the fray.

It’s not Sowon’s fault, you could never be angry with her. How were you supposed to know they were going to announce everyone as they entered? She’d even thought to keep her real name to herself, though you could imagine that upon being asked, she’d panicked. As soon as a ‘Cinderella of Greenfield’ had been loudly introduced to the ballroom, your mother’s eyes had bulged out of her head and her face blanched of color. Within minutes she’d put your panicked expression and stepsister’s surprise appearance together and yanked you away from the crowd, unleashing her anger.

Your face falls further when you realize that this new development means you won’t see the one you’re really looking for, who you’re always looking for, really. You’d like to hope that even if you aren’t dancing with your ‘prince charming’ (a term that would make him cringe and groan), Sowon will at least have her own fun before the clock strikes twelve.

“Fix your posture.” You quickly straighten your spine, folding your hands neatly in front of you. You can already see your mother’s eyes scanning the premises, searching for a new victim- er, suitor. Your brother has already disappeared off to god-knows-where, probably chatting up another girl. You, however, don’t have such luxury when your mother believes it’s taking way too long to get you married off.

Despite your insistence that being single at twenty is in fact not the same thing as being an old maid, your mother pays no attention to your opinions on the subject.

You resist taking a swig from the champagne flute resting between your fingers, instead turning your attention to the dancing couples. The first few times you were allowed to attend these balls, the dancers seemed magical and heavenly and happy, dress skirts spinning in sparkly swirls of color. But the dance floor had long lost its glamour when you realized how political the act of dancing really was. No one danced because it was fun or romantic, they did it to secure their relationships, to sign the contract of their alliance without touching a pen. It was all about appearance and status. Dreams of waltzing with your one true love were crushed once your mother had shoved you into the arms of a man much older and much creepier than you would have ever wanted.

You could say with confidence now, however, that dancing isn’t anything close to a requirement when forming a romantic relationship. It’s honestly pretty boring. Shameless flirting and stolen kisses, however, are much more fun.

Too bad you wouldn’t be doing any of those things tonight.

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?” you ask, making your mother pinch your side. You do your best to ignore the pain.

The man you’ve been talking to for the past several minutes pauses, his sweet smile becoming strained.

“And- Oh, it’s Jimin.” You nod, pretending like you’ll remember it five minutes from now. You feel bad. The guy’s pretty cute, his dashing eye smile and boyish features making his cautious flirting all the more adorable. But it’s difficult to really appreciate his looks when your mind is occupied with other faces and names. Or, well, a very specific face and name.

“My apologies, her mind is always wandering,” your mother intrudes, leaning into your conversation as if she’s the one who’s supposed to be initiating a courtship and not you.

“It’s alright…” Jimin squirms uncomfortably under your mother’s scrutinizing stare.

“We really would love to know more about your father’s business. You are the eldest, correct?”

Jimin’s eyes flash from your blank expression to your mother’s eager one, before, like all the suitors before him, he realizes that this really isn’t the place he wants to be. He gives you an apologetic look before inventing some excuse about seeing a business friend and darting away before your mother can protest.

She turns to you, eyes ablaze.

“You’re acting like a petulant child,” she snaps. “Don’t expect to leave your room at all for at least a week. Keep this up and you’ll be lucky to have a single meal.”

“It’s not my fault!” You know you aren’t helping your case by being defensive, but at this point, you don’t care. You’re bored and miserable and your skin still stings where your mother slapped you. “You keep scaring them away!”

“Watch your tone.” It’s ironic, really. You could smile and flirt and be docile all day long, the only thing stopping your mother’s wishes of a suitor from coming true is your mother herself. She can’t help but question the hell out of every man who walks your way until they’re shaking in their dress shoes, fully regretting ever coming within your vicinity. You’ve never had a courtship last longer than a month, let alone make it past the first conversation. At least not one that your mother knows about.

Your mind wanders again to the vision of a snarky boy you’ve come to care for deeply, his thoughtful, coffee-colored eyes, his pouty lips. You’re grinning to yourself at the memory of his ever-stern expression breaking into a sheepish smile when you push just the right buttons, make just the right remark. There isn’t much you wouldn’t give to be talking with him rather than the men picked out by your mother, but, alas, not all dreams come true.

“Ow!”

Your toes ache when your new suitor clumsily steps on them, his palm sweaty and nervous against yours. He quickly panics at your expression but continues the waltz.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” he whispers, awkwardly twirling you under his arm, just as his foot slams onto yours again. You wince. The poor kid might be your age, but it seems he still isn’t quite used to the lanky limbs puberty gave him. He’s barely even dancing at this point, mostly just stumbling across the floor and stringing you along. You wonder if this is his first ball, because it took a good ten minutes for you to coach him into actually leading you, instead of the other way around.

“It’s really okay,” you assure him, noticing his blonde strands falling into his face. You were scared out of your mind the first time you danced, too, though probably for entirely different reasons.

“I promise I’m not usually this awful,” he insists. “I broke my glasses just before I got here, so everything’s pretty blurry.” You sympathize with him. Awful vision and carefully maneuvered dancing don’t exactly pair well together.

“Namjoon, was it?” He nods, flashing a small, dimpled smile. “This your first time?”

His grin turns sheepish. “Was it that obvious?” You shake your head, but then wonder if he can even tell, if his dancing is truly a reflection of his poor eyesight.

“No, I just hadn’t seen you before. I attend most of these things.” Namjoon relaxes at the casual conversation, glad to be talking as peers and not potential spouses.

“Really? Don’t you get tired of them?”

“All the fucking time.” Namjoon’s jaw drops at your language. You cringe, glad your mother can’t stalk you while you’re dancing. “Er- sorry.”

“It’s fine, really.” The lights are dimming outside and your sympathy for the man only grows. Even your vision begins to fail once night falls. Would it kill them to get better lighting in this place?

“My point is, they get easier. Promise. The nerves will go away eventually, probably quicker than you think.” Namjoon laughs skeptically, his grip loosening in yours.

“Easier said than done.” A smirk creeps across your lips.

“See? You’re already comfortable with me! I’m proud.” He immediately starts blushing and tensing up again, but you’ve made your point and Namjoon is grateful. You knew you could be quite intimidating, that this whole event could be quite intimidating, so you’re always glad to help a fellow straggler out.

The dance ends with Namjoon accidentally knocking his head against yours as he bows deeply, profusely apologizing. You laugh it off and send him on his way, probably to recover from the embarrassment in private. You almost get your hopes up that your mother will let you go, but it doesn’t take long for you to be shoved into a new conversation.

“It’s just- I love her, you know?” The boy is staring at you earnestly, his chin propped in his hands and his shaggy, brown hair anything but styled properly. You’re not even sure why your mother settled for this guy. He certainly doesn’t seem like a rich bachelor looking for a wife.

You lean in, fully captured by his heartfelt story. It only took two minutes before the guy noticed your disinterest and gave up on flirting, suggesting the two of you chat casually over desserts instead. You accepted his offer in a heartbeat, feeling your mother glaring holes into your back as he guided you away, finding a corner table and a heaping tray of eclairs. Now, you were listening to his romantic tale, absolutely astounded at his experiences.

“Yeah, I think I do. But what are you supposed to do? She’s locked in an enchanted tower! With a witch!”

“Exactly!” Taehyung responds, throwing his hands into the air. “The only reason I’m here and not with her is because of my family. If I could just get away from them, I’d think up a way to rescue her, I’m sure of it.” You ponder his dilemma as you shove another eclair into your mouth, treasuring the sugary pastry while you still can. He’d already tried the obvious choice, bringing a rope, but as soon as he stepped inside the tower with his love, it disintegrated in his hands, spoiling the plan.

“Maybe you can trick the witch!” You suggest, words muffled by the dessert you’re chewing on as you blatantly talk with your mouth open. All manners have been abandoned as Taehyung is eating two eclairs at once, equally focused on the matter at hand. “Well, no, maybe trying to trick a magical scary lady is a bad idea.”

You think for a moment longer, taking a few more desserts, before your brain lights up.

“Wait, we’re both idiots!” you exclaim, slamming the table in epiphany. Taehyung leans forward, anticipating your new idea. “Just cut her hair and use it as a rope! Surely the enchantment isn’t that advanced.” Taehyung processes your idea before his lips grow into a wide, joyous grin that stretches into his cheeks adorably. If it weren’t for other circumstances, you’d actually consider courting this guy.

“That’s genius!” he shouts, jumping up from his seat. “What do I do now?” You rise with him, taking his hands into yours.

“You have to go to her. Now.” Taehyung’s face grows solemn with resolve as he takes a deep breath.

“I will! Thank you, really.”

“You can thank me by inviting me to the wedding!” The boy laughs and assures you that he will before he grabs one last eclair, dashing out of the castle and into the night. You can only hope that he’ll be successful in his quest, that he won’t die because the plan went horribly wrong or the witch is waiting for him. You send a silent prayer to whoever is listening, but a part of you just believes he’ll be alright.

Having nowhere else to go, you make your way back to where you last saw your mother, brushing against several shoulders as you weave through the crowd. But instead of your mother, Jin is who you see, pigging out on a plate full of food from the buffet. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Where’s mom?” you ask tentatively, Jin barely meeting your eyes before returning to his meal.

“Went to talk to someone important. I dunno.” You sigh. For being your older brother, he sure is useless.

Your second great idea of the night begins to grow in the back of your mind, daring to give you hope.

“Oh… Well, if you see her, tell her I’m speaking to another suitor. A very rich and very powerful one.” Jin nods, barely half-listening. Knowing your mother, if she was really talking to someone important, it’d take a while. Giving you plenty of time to do the one thing you really came for.

“Uh-huh.”

You dash off before Jin can think twice, leaving him with his second love, only topped by himself, of course.

Your heart is throbbing in your chest, lungs aching from lack of oxygen as you weave through the ballroom and sprint down the halls, making your best guess as to where to find him. You can see the look on his face now, seeing you all dolled up and exhausted from socialization. He’ll make fun of you to no end, but you don’t mind. You have plenty to tease him about, too.

As you round a corner, you collide with a strong chest, only stopped from falling by a pair of strong arms.

But when you glance up, you’re met with a very different squire than the one you’re seeking, but still a dear friend.

“Y/N? I thought you weren’t coming!” You smile as you steady yourself.

“Are you kidding? I’m always at these things, Hoseok.” You step back, peeking around his shoulder, but you’re only met with an empty hall.

“You’re telling me,” he laughs, a friendly hand still lingering on your shoulder. “What took you so long?” You shrug, still catching your breath.

“Suitors, dancing, my mother… You know how it is.” Hoseok nods in understanding, his kind eyes and warm brown hair a welcome sight after a night full of socializing with strangers. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

“Ahh, it’s our last night off. Like a reward before we get knighted and swear our lives to the crown and all that.”

“Wait, really? You’re getting knighted?! That’s amazing, Hoseok!” The man blushes, shrugging sheepishly. His stupid humility reminds you of Sowon. The two of them would be great friends, you muse, being all shy about their accomplishments together. But never in a million years would you allow them in the same room, not with Hoseok’s reputation.

“Well, we both are.” His eyes light up at something behind you. His hand spins you around, facing you towards the rest of the ballroom. “But your boyfriend can’t even enjoy his one night to have fun. He’s over there brooding in the corner like he’s on duty or something. Doesn’t matter how many times I or Jinyoung tell him to relax, he won’t listen.”

“Sounds about right,” you muse.

“Go talk to him, will you? Make him lighten up.”

Hoseok winks at you before strolling off, making you roll your eyes. But your gaze quickly returns to the idiot you’ve come to love, looking more like a criminal than a knight as he watches the crowd with narrowed eyes. He looks dashing in his ball attire, his dark hair slicked back and leaving his forehead exposed, only a few strands falling out of place. He’s dressed in a simple suit, a white dress shirt with navy blue slacks and overcoat, but he makes the entire look seem classy and elegant.

Despite his piercing gaze, he doesn’t notice you until you’ve snuck up behind him, trailing your fingers up his arm, leaving goosebumps in your wake. His eyes barely flicker to your before quickly returning and focusing on the dance floor, as if you were never there.

“Hey, squire.” No one notices you fiddling with the collar of his coat, not as the lights are growing dimmer and dimmer. He doesn’t respond, face still fixed ahead.

“Oh, come on, you’re off duty. Hoseok told me. At least talk to me.” Still, nothing. He’s as still as a statue.

“Please? I’m sorry I took so long, I got caught up with my mom, you know how she can be.” It’s like you’re talking to air, having a conversation with yourself. His brows furrow at the mention of your mother though, sharing as much hatred for the woman as you do.

“Yoongi.” He sighs, finally facing you. But upon seeing your face, really taking it in, his expression immediately fills with concern, rather than that smile you really want to see.

“Are you okay? Your eyes are swollen.” Damn it. Rely on Min Yoongi to always see right through your facade, to never save you your pride. “Was it your mother?”

“No,” you lie. “I’m fine, really. I just missed you.” Eager to change the subject, you smirk, eyeing the top of his shirt, left unbuttoned. “Really, Min? How unprofessional…” You reach up and fix it, leaning close enough to feel his breath on your face. You meet his eyes cheekily, seeing the conflict brewing in his mind.

“Where have you been? How’s Sowon?”

“Around. Turning down suitors. And as far as I know, she’s good. Hopefully enjoying herself.” Your hands linger at his collar, fiddling with it as you grow closer and closer.

“You sure they aren’t turning you down? You’re pretty damn annoying.” You feign a gasp.

“Wowww, do all those years of me helping you train mean nothing to you? All those late nights for you to insult me like this?” Yoongi takes your hand before you can slip away in your faux-anger, intertwining your fingers.

“I think you’re glossing over all the years that I protected you from the snakes in the palace garden.”

“Oh please,” you scoff. “That was all just a ploy to get me to hold your hand.” He smirks, fully turning away from the party and towards you.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Only because I wanted it to. Now, are you going to keep holding my hand like we’re fourteen or kiss me?” He laughs, eyes flashing to your lips.

It only takes a moment before the two of you have disappeared from the main room and you’re pressed up against a wall, kissing him messily in a quiet hall, far from the other guests.

You’re not stupid enough to go any further, as much as you’d like to, but for now you’re satisfied just to feel his lips on yours, just to be in his presence for a while. Your fingers are running through his hair, ruining his hairstyle as his arms are wrapped around your waist, tugging you close as he kisses you senseless, as if to make up for the lost time.

No matter how many times you see him, no matter how many times you corner him in a dark room with time to kill, your heart always thumps in your chest and your stomach always flutters when he’s nearby. It’s always like the first time you talked to him, nerves racing up and down your spine like the idiot teenager you were back then.

He’s always been the first one you want to talk to in the morning, the last person you want to see before your head hits the pillow. And, of course, he’s the one you always wished was treating you to dates or romantic strolls instead of whatever suitor your mother chose next.

While your mind is racing, hands beginning to wander, Yoongi pulls away all too soon, leaving you reeling.

“Sorry,” he mutters, growing all embarrassed when the tips of his ears turn pink. “I was getting carried away.” You laugh, poking at his blushing cheeks. He jerks away, summoning a scowl that he can’t maintain as you only laugh at him further.

“That’s not very knightly of you,” you tease, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still alone, a habit you’ve developed over years of seeing him in secret. Yoongi shakes his head, glaring at your proud grin.

“I don’t think sneaking off with a squire looks very good for you, either, dumbass.”

“I think you mean running off with a soon-to-be knight! Hoseok told me!” Yoongi scoffs.

“Of course he did. Asshole.” You quirk your brow.

“Wait, are you not happy you’re being knighted?” You affectionately comb your fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix the damage you’ve caused as he shakes his head furiously.

“No, no, that’s not it. I wanted to tell you myself, that’s all. There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, now.”

“What, that you’re finally using your knightly privileges to kill me once and for all?”

“What? No! At least, not yet.”

“You’re gonna get me my own sword?”

“No. I’m-”

“You’re going on a quest to save a girl in a tower?” Yoongi’s expression is incredulous. It takes everything in you to suppress your giggles as you relish in his confusion.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Trust me, it happens.”

“Oh- Okay? Well, what I’m trying to say is-”

“You’re leaving me for Hoseok? It’s okay, I understand. He’s so hot, I would too-” Exasperated, Yoongi claps a hand over your mouth, still keeping you pinned in the corner despite your struggling.

“God, no! I’m trying to tell you I’m gonna marry you, okay?” You freeze, eyes going wide. His hand lowers, letting your jaw drop. “I mean, assuming you want to.”

“Yoongi…” You sigh, a sadness you’re often able to ignore filling your chest and throat. “We talked about this, you know my mother won’t-”

“I don’t care what your mother thinks.” He sighs, face unsure instead of smug or annoyed, as usual. The sight makes your chest constrict. “I’m serious. I’m in love with you and I have been for years, you know that. I’ve been saving up and I can take care of you, at least for a while. But after I’m knighted, I’ll have a steadier income. And then in a few years, maybe we can open that tailor shop with Sowon you’re always talking about. You can do the numbers and Sowon can sew and I know I’m not great with either of those things but I’m sure I can figure out something to help with. I’ll make it work, I promise. You just have to trust me a little.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to hope. To stare into his pleading eyes, to imagine a future with him, a life filled with sarcastic remarks and flirtatious glances and a shop, a place to call your own with the people you love. Out of your mother’s reach, in Yoongi’s arms, happy and content.

But you’re not stupid.

No matter where you go, she’ll follow you. She’ll crush you and ruin you just like she’s done to everyone in her path, spreading rumors and menacing words until you’re despised and cast aside. You’d watched her do it to her own friends, to Sowon in her own house. Once she knows about Yoongi, she’ll do the same to him too. You can’t allow that to happen. You might be afraid of your mother, but you’re far more afraid of what she would do to him than what she would do to you.

“Yoongi, I love you, I really do, but I- I can’t. I won’t.” I won’t hurt you. You almost laugh. In order to spare him from a world of pain, you have to inflict pain yourself.

His face darkens, his expression flashing with hurt. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. His grip loosens on you, and the disappointed but unsurprised look on his face is too much to bear.

“Are you serious? Is this really what you want? To let her control you?” Yoongi bites his lip. You wish he’d get angry. That he’d yell and scream and insult you. Instead, his eyes grow glassy and sad, his brow furrowed with concern, making you feel all the worser. You wish you could kiss him until it was all gone, until nothing mattered anymore and you both felt alright again.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You slip away, out of his arms. You’re out of the room and wiping tears from your eyes in a flash. You hurl yourself down the hall, muffling your choked sobs behind your hand. You’re stumbling like Namjoon on the dance floor, ignoring Yoongi calling your name and chasing after you. You know he’ll leave you alone once you make it back to the crowd, once it’s possible your mother could see.

Maybe it was better this way. If you just left each other alone, pretend it never happened. You were nothing but a leech, really. Taking and taking and taking from him and never giving. You didn’t deserve him, not his talks, not his kisses, not his anything. You deserve to grow old miserable with someone you don’t love. You aren’t brave enough to try for something more, not like Yoongi is.

“Y/N?” You nearly run into the girl, her face looking as panicked as you feel. You quickly dab at your eyes, summoning a casual smile. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, Sowon! Having fun?” Not unlike Yoongi, she’s clearly conflicted on whether or not to press you further. You’re grateful when she doesn’t.

“I- um- yeah. I’m leaving, actually.”

“What?” You aren’t carrying a watch, but you know it’s not anywhere near midnight yet, not by a long shot. “Why?” It’s then that you notice that her cheeks are slightly tear-stained too, red from embarrassment. Her hands are shaky, barely holding onto yours. “Did something happen?”

“I really can’t talk about it, now,” she says, voice breaking. “I just have to go.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you at home, alright?” She nods, her weak smile thankful.

“Alright, see you-”

“Y/N.” Your heart leaps into your throat when you see your mother standing not too far from you and Sowon, her glare murderous and cold. She pretends not to see her stepdaughter, but you know a majority of her fury comes from her presence at the ball tonight.

You shoot your stepsister a look and she’s gone before you can blink, tearing off into the crowd. Wait, is she missing a shoe? Those took up half of your budget!

“I was just looking for you!” You say it awkwardly, the worst acting performance of your life. You’ve done better than this as an eight-year-old. You try to force yourself to forget everything that’s just transpired. All that matters is minimizing your mother’s wrath, if possible.

You aren’t entirely sure why, but she hasn’t dragged you away to a private space to scream at you for your insolence. Instead, she’s forcing a strained smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Your stomach starts to sink. Somehow this feels worse.

“We’ve been summoned. By the royal family.” Your stomach accelerates from a sink to a drop, leaving you nauseous and an anxious feeling itching up your arms and back, choking your throat.

“What?”

“I don’t know why I continue to do these things for you,” she says, wringing her hands, as if to keep them from lashing out. “But it seems I’ve secured you a betrothal. To the Crown Prince.”

“What.”

It had to be a lie. How had your mother, the least personable human you knew, managed to do this? And she hadn’t even consulted you? Not that you’re surprised about it, but the stress and pressure and cruelty of it all is getting to you. What would this even mean? Is it all just a lie to get you alone so she can really yell?

But the look in her eye and Jin’s story support her claim. Your emotions hit you like a train again as the realization sets in.

“Mom.” Your lip trembles, unable to force itself into a smile for her, not anymore. “I don’t want that. Please.” You silently follow up your plea with desperate eyes, frantically attempting to keep tears from further spilling down your face. But her expression contorts, leaving no room for fake smiles and laughter. Her brows are pressed as far down as they can go, her mouth permanently twisted into a scowl. Her hand raises and you flinch prematurely, casting your face downwards.

“You ungrateful little-”

“I’ll be glad to escort you to the royal family.” Your eyes shoot upwards at the sound of the familiar voice. But Yoongi doesn’t even glance your way, looking at your mother with his stoic, knightly expression he’s worked to perfect over the years. Like he didn’t propose to you minutes prior.

“Who are you?” your mother sneers, giving him a skeptical look.

“A knight,” he states plainly. “This is my night off, but considering your daughter’s recent change in status, it’s only practical she receive a change in security as well.” Your mother ponders this before smirking, the pride of your apparent future marriage already fueling her own ego. She nods, forcefully taking your elbow. Yoongi’s eyes barely flicker with fury when he glances at your mother’s hand, knuckles white from her grip, but he’s able to calmly mask it before your mother notices.

“Well, then, by all means, get on with it.” She gestures ahead as if she’s the one paying him to be here and not the palace. He pretends not to notice her blatantly rude behavior, steadily striding back down the hall, leading you to your own doom.

Ironic, really. You’ve just had someone propose to you and now you’re being lead off to another engagement by the very same man. My god, you’re about to be engaged. To the fucking crown prince. What’s his name? Isn’t he younger than you? You can’t even remember, your mind is going too fast, your heart pounding too loudly.

Your mother is hissing instructions into your ear, berating you for your behavior before you’ve even entered the room, but you don’t hear a single word.

You’ve accepted defeat before the battle has begun as you bite your lip to keep it from trembling.

You hate the way Yoongi doesn’t fight it, how you can only watch his backside as you walk towards an engagement you never wanted, too afraid to say no. You want to run away, to grab Yoongi’s hand and never look back. But that leaves too much to chance. You don’t know where you would go, if you could take Sowon with you.

Crippled by fear and indecisiveness, you stay silent.

“Well, I think that settles everything.” You jolt in your seat, yanked from your daze when you’re being pinched harshly.

Jin’s been pouting in his seat the whole time, frustrated he even had to be here in the first place. He should be pleased, he’s about to have all the food and women he wants, and more.

“We’re incredibly thankful at being given this opportunity,” your mother insists. You muster a smile, unable to meet the eyes of the supposed prince, who’s pouting like a petulant child. His features match his seemingly immature personality, boyish and cute. His eyes are large and doe-like, nearly bulging out of his head with each word spoken, each negotiation settled. You’re glad you’re not the only one who feels poorly about this, though the two of you express that emotion very differently.

Yoongi hasn’t looked at you once the entire time. Instead, he’s standing at the door without a sound, just like the knight he’s been trained to be.

“Well, we’re grateful to have negotiated this opportunity as well, Lady Kim. I’m sure your daughter will make a lovely queen alongside Jungkook.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You hadn’t even opened that can of worms yet. How were you supposed to be a queen? You could barely play checkers without panicking, how would you be able to manage the stress of ruling a country?!

“I’m sure she will, too. Right, Y/N?” All eyes pin on you and your blood runs cold, goosebumps running up your arms and legs.

“I- I’ll do my best,” you murmur, your voice choked and quiet. The king leans forward, brow furrowing.

“What did you say?” You open your mouth to repeat yourself, but your mother beats you to it.

“She said she agrees. She’s really quite the talented socializer, always making friends and connections. She’ll be a beloved queen, I’m confident in it.” The queen smiles softly in approval, gazing at you affectionately. She must think your nerves stem from being in the same room as the prince, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. You’d give anything to be able to sprint away, never looking back.

“I’m sorry, but when did I say I agreed to this?” Jungkook shouts the question, making everyone else in the room jump. Your gaze lowers to the table again as you try to pray yourself out of existence. The queen places her hand over her son’s, sighing disappointedly.

“Jungkook, not right-”

“No, Mom! You tell me to get married and I say fine, as long as I can do it on my own terms. You tell me to find a girl I liked at this ball, who I think I could care for and would make a good ruler, and I did. I found someone and you won’t even hear me out!”

“Enough!” the king roars, slamming a fist on the table. “Your ‘girl’ ran off and all you have to prove her existence is a glass shoe. A glass shoe, Jungkook. That’s not evidence of a queen candidate, it’s footwear!”

“I told you, your stupid guards scared her off! She started panicking and mumbling things about a stepmother and needing to go and your guards kept me from following her! And now this is all I have to show for it.” A loud gasp leaves your mouth and you look up to see Jungkook holding a small heeled slipped, made of Venetian glass. Sowon’s slipper.

“What?” Jungkook leans forward, eyes boring into yours. “Do you recognize this? Do you know her?” Your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water, unable to form words. But your mother has already pieced together this puzzle, what with your startled reaction and Jungkook’s retelling of the story.

“Oh, surely not,” your mother insists. Her hand squeezes yours, nearly crushing it, making you yelp. You barely see Yoongi’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t move. “She just loves Venetian glass, don’t you, dear?” The question falls on deaf ears when Jungkook starts ranting to his father again.

“I’m not giving up on this,” he states matter-of-factly, almost initiating a staredown with the king himself.

“And I’m not going to be controlled by a teenager who doesn’t understand priorities,” he snaps back, eyes blazing. The queen sighs, massaging her temples, as if this isn’t the first time such an argument has occurred.

“I have an idea!” your mother exclaims, clapping her hands together and momentarily drawing the attention of the rest of the table. Jin is still totally checked out, staring off into space. You wonder if he’s sleeping with his eyes open.

“His Highness should try to find this mystery girl! Put out an ad, let girls try on the shoe, do house visits if you wish.” You gawk at your mother, wondering what the hell she’s playing at. “We all deserve a chance at love, no?”

“Yes,” the king responds. “But-”

“But if in, say, two weeks, this girl doesn’t show or she doesn’t turn out to be a good candidate…” You gasp when she interrupts the king, a blatant show of disrespect, but he says nothing, only listening to your mother’s idea patiently. “Then we move forward with the engagement with my daughter. That way we all get a fair chance at what we want.”

“I… suppose that would fine.” Jungkook looks at your mother skeptically, but he really has no reason to say no. She’s just offered him his chance with his dream girl. Why would he refuse?

To everyone else, your mother seems charitable, maybe even absurdly so. But to those who are privy to full the context of the situation (you, Yoongi, and Jin), she’s anything but. In one fell swoop, she’s managed to seize full control of the situation while making a good impression on the royal family. As long as she has you and Sowon pinned beneath her thumb, she’s won easily.

“Yes, I suppose that is fair,” the king says. “Two weeks, Jungkook. That’s it.” His son nods solemnly, determination filling his eyes.

“Two weeks.”

You say nothing to Yoongi as you leave. You know he understands just as well as you do. You’re getting engaged. Just not to him.

“Wait!” You spin around only to be met with your maybe-future-fiancé, gripping your shoulders with a desperate look in his eye. You catch another man staring at you from the door, but you pointedly don’t meet his gaze.

“Yes, Your Highness?” The prince groans.

“Oh, please, don’t call me that.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Your cheeks heat as your mother glares at you from the side, just out of Jungkook’s view.

“Are you sure you don’t know this girl? She’s about this tall-” He raises a hand to just below his shoulder. “-and she’s blonde and really pretty and she was wearing a pink dress.” You’re about to respond, but he continues his description. “And she’s honestly the nicest, most sweet person I’ve ever met. I don’t think she could hurt a fly if she tried.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I know I’ve gotta sound insane right now, but I’m not claiming to be in love with her or anything like that. I just have to see her again. And by the way she was talking, I’m really worried. She might need help. Even if she hates me and that’s why she ran off, I just have to make sure she’s okay and safe.”

You’re astounded at his passionate speech. You’d misjudged him completely. He might be immature or naive, but never had someone seemed so genuine. Never had someone seen Sowon the way you saw her: the silly, sweet girl with a heart of gold.

You’re impressed.

But your pleasant surprise is spoiled when you catch your mother’s gaze, and a realization hits you.

You’d be stupid to trust this Jungkook idiot. No matter how earnest he was, there was no guarantee your mother wouldn’t contradict you, wouldn’t call you insane and have you institutionalized. She could go home tonight and have Sowon shipped off and killed before Jungkook had a chance, and it’d be all your fault. No one was going to stop this. Not Jin. Not Jungkook. Not Yoongi. Not you.

No matter where you go, no matter what you do, your mother will always be there, always be pulling the strings. To try to resist it would only make things worse. For you and Sowon.

You won’t be selfish. You won’t be brave. You’ll take whatever your mother makes you do, as long as she doesn’t hurt Sowon.

Your eyes meet Yoongi’s, full of unspoken apologies.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you lie. “I don’t know her.”

You turn away before you have to see the disappointment in either of their faces.

Two weeks later, you’re allowed to leave your room again. You’re dizzy and nauseous with the guilt and hunger and exhaustion, but your decision remains firm. It’s not like you could really undo it anyway.

You lug your body downstairs, forcing yourself to smile, to look pleasant. Jungkook is sitting in the foyer, a poorly masked sad expression on his face. You’re sad, too.

“-really am disappointed you weren’t able to find your girl. I suppose some mysteries just can’t be solved, can they?”

“Mmm.”

You gulp. You worry about said girl two floors up, who you haven’t seen in a fortnight, probably feeling upset and betrayed.

But you’d been able to cut a deal. Your silence and compliance in exchange for Sowon’s freedom and safety. Maybe it was reckless and stupid to prioritize your stepsister’s life over yours, but after years living in a household that did the opposite, you figured it was the least you could do.

Or maybe you were the selfish one. Maybe all of this was an elaborate ploy to avoid standing up to your mother, your biggest fear.

Either way, it felt much too late to turn back now.

Of course, to make things more painful, Yoongi had to be here too. Watching as you betrayed yourself and him, maybe even Sowon too. You hated how he attempted to hide his obvious disapproval and hurt, to hide his true feelings for your sake.

He stills looks just as good in uniform as he did in his ball clothes. He’s still dressed in navy blue, but the royal crest is embroidered across his chest and a sword hangs at his waist, his hair slicked away from his face again. He looks dashing. Knightly. Regal.

But you’ve given up the privilege of being able to look at him that way. He’s not yours anymore.

An exhausted look duke stands next to the equally tired Jungkook, blabbering on about logistics and future plans. They’re here to take you away permanently, to begin residing at the palace and training for queen hood and preparing for the marriage. Your mother and Jin will follow soon after, leaving their servants here to be released from work, including Sowon, for which you’re grateful.

“Well, I’ll miss her dearly while you’re keeping her,” your mother croons, her voice so sickeningly sweet you think you might vomit again.

“I’ll make sure she’s treated well,” Jungkook assures her. Another bout of guilt claws up your throat. He’s much too innocent, much too good for you.

“I would hope so.” Your mother wraps an arm around you and squeezes. “She deserves the best, she really does.” At some point, Yoongi’s dropped his stoic look, putting up his hands pleadingly in desperation.

You deserve better, he mouths.

“I don’t.”

“What?” Jungkook’s brow is quirked, a very puzzled expression on his face.

“She’s just humble!” your mother nearly shouts, voice strained and threatening to crack.

Are you going to let her decide for you?

It is my decision.

I love you.

You look away from Yoongi before you cry again. You’ve done enough of that over the past two weeks.

“Well, I suppose it’s time we get going,” the duke pipes up, gesturing to the rest of the guards, who begin trudging to their feet and filing their way out of the room. Jungkook takes your arm awkwardly leading you away from your childhood home. You bite your lip and squeeze your fist.

Is this really want Sowon would want? You don’t know. She ran from Jungkook, after all. If she really thought he cared about her, if she really thought safety or love was possible, wouldn’t she have stayed? Jungkook seemed genuine, seemed caring. So why?

An awful thought occurs to you. An awful, terrible, irreversible thought.

There was only one reason you could think of as to why your stepsister had run, had sacrificed her chance with her prince charming.

She didn’t want to leave you behind.

Your mother would have been furious, would have dragged both you and Jin out of the country if that’s what it took to quell her own embarrassment. She’d threatened it before, and she wasn’t one to do so without the intention of following through. You’d never see Sowon or Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, anyway.

Your stepsister risked everything for you, sacrificed her own happiness for your own, and here you were about to leave her behind in the same way she refused to do to you.

You’re giving up everything you cared about, because, what? You’re scared?

Yoongi loves you. You love him. You’ve longed to be with him, to really be with him, for years. And he gave you a solution. He put in the effort to make it work, put it all on the line to be with you.

And you told him no. Because you were scared.

You don’t want to be scared anymore.

“Stop!” you shout, pushing Jungkook away, his expression riddled with surprise. “Just, stop. I have your mystery girl. Come on.”

“You what?” You sigh loudly, leaving him in the dust as you march back up to your mother, who’s gaping at you in horror and disgust from the large doorway.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” your mother gasps. You ignore the way your stomach clenches and that familiar feeling of wanting to crawl under the covers and never come back out.

“Get Sowon or I will.” You state it loudly, for everyone in the vicinity to hear. She gasps, her face turning bright red with anger. You see the retort forming on her lips, the scream threatening to tear from her lungs, but your spine remains straight and tall.

You resist smirking as a familiar presence eases its way behind you, a gentle hand landing on your shoulder.

“Move aside,” Yoongi bellows. His voice clearly sends shivers down your mother’s spine as she jumps to the side out of fear, but you’re suppressing a giggle when you know that he’s just a big softie underneath.

As you make the final trek upstairs to unlock the door and bring Sowon to her awaiting prince and freedom, Yoongi’s hand never leaves yours, giving you reassuring squeezes every time you hesitate. He’s never been one for passionate declarations or romantic gestures, but his unending honesty and small actions are enough for you to feel loved.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmurs into your ear as you tug Sowon out the door for the last time. You don’t give your mother the dignity of a last glance. You can guess how she appears, face contorted in anger and embarrassment and shock as she realizes she’s been betrayed, that she won’t be able to manipulate her way out of this one, though you wouldn’t put it past her to try.

You do, however, give a single nod to Jin as you go, a silent message of forgiveness. He returns a similar look to you. You know the two of you can never be close again, but you hope one day you can see him again. You both are just doing what you must to survive.

After being peppered with questions and giving thousands of explanations to the guards and Jungkook, you’re finally allowed a moment to breathe. Sowon and her prince are staring at each other sheepishly, both suddenly shy and unsure. He awkwardly shakes her hand just as she goes to curtsy, making the both of them burst into stiff giggles and smiles. You shake your head at their antics, but a part of you hopes they make it past this phase and work out.

Just as you’re about to suggest that the group get moving lest your mother takes all of your heads, you’re being yanked away into the shadows behind Jungkook’s carriage and being met with a knowing smile.

You smirk, looping your arms around his neck.

“Hey, squire.” You lean up to press a kiss against his lips but he stops you with the pad of his finger.

“Knight. I’m a knight now.” He’s grinning cheekily, smile so wide you can see his gums. You shake your head and pat the top of his hair, which luckily isn’t covered with a silly metal helmet.

“You’ll always be a squire to me,” you tease, combing your fingers through his hair. Yoongi feigns a glare before wasting no time in stealing a kiss (or three) from you, the two of you pressed up against the carriage, tucked away from sight just like in the good old days.

“And this- Oh!”

You tear away from Yoongi, your cheeks heating as you see a pale Jungkook staring at the two of you in horror as Sowon stands slightly behind him, sending you a look that says, ‘You really couldn’t wait any longer?’

Your eyes are burning holes into the ground as you silently wonder whether kissing a royal guard while kind of engaged to the prince is treason.

“I am so sorry,” you manage, trying to formulate an excuse, but none comes. Yoongi has returned to his knight like stance, acting like a statue and not a lovestruck idiot.

“It’s, uh… It’s fine.” You glance up in surprise as Sowon slips her hand into Jungkook’s, pulling him in the opposite direction.

“Sorry for interrupting!” she calls over her shoulder as she leads her prince away, not noticing his sheepish grin as he stares at their interlocked fingers. “We’re leaving soon so don’t waste too much time…”

As soon as their forms disappear from view, you’re laughing quietly to yourself. After years of sneaking off with Yoongi, it’s still Sowon covering for you. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to pay her back for everything she’s done for you, big and small, but today is certainly a start.

“So…” Yoongi begins, his hands finding yours. “Did you think any more on what I asked you the other night?” You laugh, resisting the urge to tug him in for another kiss.

“Well, seeing as my chances with the prince have been completely ruined…” Yoongi groans, fingers hovering above your stomach threateningly. You jolt backwards, only to be met with the side of the carriage. “I was joking! Just teasing! Please don’t tickle me.”

The man you’re hopelessly in love with only rolls his eyes, fumbling with the pocket of his pants.

“And I’m trying to be romantic. One of these days I’ll get my revenge for the amount of headaches you give me.” He produces a small box from his pocket, but before he can ask any questions or see the happy tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, you pull him close, pressing your nose into his shoulder. He laughs, quickly reciprocating the embrace.

“Does that mean yes?” he asks. “Because I don’t have the ring yet, the box was a symbolic thing. Unless you like my grandmother’s ring, in which case-” You scoff. A thousand teasing remarks come to your head, but you decide to cut to the chase, not leave him hanging.

“Yes!” You can’t wipe the stupid grins of either of your faces as you pull apart slightly, staring at each other in pure joy.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because then this would be pretty embarrassing. For you.”

You’re still giggling as the two of you round the carriage hand-in-hand, garnering a few odd glances from the other knights and guards. But instead of quickly jerking your hand away, creating a normal distance as usual, you proudly march up to Yoongi’s horse, let him help you up and lean against his chest as you sit in front of him. Sowon and Jungkook are long in their own world, chatting away about god-knows-what.

As the caravan of carriages and horses rides away, you don’t look back once. You don’t worry about making it back to your mother in time or planning an elaborate explanation to give her to quell her suspicions. Instead, you fully relish in Yoongi’s warmth, teasing him relentlessly and talking about nothing and everything all at once.

You can’t guarantee that it’ll all be easy, that the royal family won’t be royally pissed at you for keeping such a big secret for two weeks. But as the hope of a long life spent with Yoongi and Sowon becomes closer to the truth than ever before, you think you’ll turn out just fine.

#fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #this ended up being a little bit more about OC and cinderella than i intended #but i think i can live with that lol #enjoy :)

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aquidragon · 5 years ago

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Purple (Part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: Spencer sometimes considered his eidetic memory a curse, however when he spots a gorgeous woman crossing the street with a purple ribbon, he can’t help but fall heads over heels for her. However, there’s more to her than it seems... Warning(s): Mentions of blood and alludes to violence Word Count: 2.2k A/N: Here’s my first ever x reader series! Thank you to @criesinreid for beta-reading this for me! (Part One: Here) (Part Two: x) (MASTERLIST) ---

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Spencer Reid POV

It was a sunny Tuesday morning when I saw her, with beautiful h/c hair that was tied with a purple ribbon. Maybe it was because of the color, since purple was my favorite, but I felt like I was drawn to her. I watched with a rather stupid expression as she walked past me, with a wide smile from across the street. I felt my heart flutter and my face get warm. She was gorgeous. My eidetic memory allowed me to picture her smile and her shining h/c hair as she chased after her friends. After a few days, I caught myself imagining holding her hand and taking her out on dates. Would she like attending the library with me? What kind of genres did she enjoy? I could tell that she at least could read, since she was holding a few books close to her chest as she ran. I could no longer focus the book I held in my hands, the words seemed jumbled and scrambled. Nothing made sense, except for the woman that had blessed my very mind. The few seconds that I had my eyes on her, I couldn’t get her picture out of my vision. I let out a small sigh as I closed my book, allowing my mind to drift to her again.

“Pretty boy has got a crush.” The familiar teasing voice of my colleague joked from right above me. I looked up from my slouched position on the jet’s couch, I snorted, brushing over my lower lip with my tongue. “I-I don’t have a crush.” I responded, which I knew wasn’t convincing as Morgan laughed and took a seat beside me.

“Come on, you’ve been staring out into space.” He gently patted my shoulder, his dark eyes just dancing with playfulness. “So, who is she?” The older FBI agent asked, earning a small groan from me. “I told you I don’t have a crush.” I unintentionally let my voice lift up an octave, which gave away my lie. The look on Derrik’s face made me sigh and finally give in. “I saw this girl across the street from the coffee shop I frequent before work, Morgan she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” I knew it was rather dramatic, but it was true. “Well, did you get her number?” My co-worker asked, I shook my head sadly. “I didn’t get to her, she was running after some friends.” The sinking feeling in my chest began to drag down my mood. I suddenly felt like a dunce, how couldn’t I have just ran to her, asked for her name, her number, anything?

I cursed my inept ability to flirt, or talk to women in general. Looking at my friend made my brain begin to curse itself. I wasn’t as confident as Morgan, I couldn’t even cross the street to go after the girl that I was really fond of. This made me bring my hands up to my face, I dragged my palms over my eyes, I was much too tired to think too much about my hopeless attempts at relationships.

Morgan must’ve noticed my downwards spiral into hopelessness, because he patted my shoulder a few more times as the plane began to shake into the descent. “Hey don’t lose hope, she might live in DC, maybe you’ll see her again.” I looked up at him again, rubbing one of my eyes as the pressure rapidly changed. “How? Morgan I can’t just search DC for her, there’s 705,749 people that live in DC.” I challenged, hopelessness sinking deeper into my chest. I also felt frantic, I felt this paranoid need to find this woman again.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh I know you Doctor Spencer Reid, you’ll find this woman.” Before I could respond with more statistics about the likeness of me running into a random person I hadn’t even met, the plane started to rumble on the runway. The rest of my team all groaned as they were awoken from their naps on the five hour flight we had just endured in Seattle.

After the plane was landed, I begrudgingly dragged my suitcase behind me towards the BAU offices. I wasn’t looking forward to doing paperwork, usually I could whisk through them with ease, but the nagging feeling in my heart made it impossible to think. All I could think about was her, and that purple ribbon that bounced with her movements as she ran. I scuffled all my paperwork back into a file, I would fill it out tomorrow morning, after my third coffee of the day. I was just about to leave when I heard the soft voice of my closest friend.

“Leaving so soon Spence?” JJ asked tiredly, I could tell that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. “Yeah- I’m too tired to do paperwork tonight.” I responded briskly, bringing up three of my fingers to rub one of my eyes. “Wow, Spencer Reid, too tired to do paperwork?” The teasing voice of Penelope came next, her entire body was limp and exhausted. I couldn’t help but crack a small smile, gathering up the last of my stuff. “Yeah-I have plans” I responded nervously. I couldn’t tell Penelope that I had a crush on a girl I randomly laid eyes on. I’m sure I could just tell the woman that the mystery girl owned a purple ribbon and she could find my crush within a couple hours. Tops.

“Ooo plans?” Garcia asked, a little bit of excitement glittered in her eyes. I opened my mouth to tell her that it was just a trip to the library, but Morgan stepped on. “Woah now Baby Girl, we can’t have our pretty boy here giving away his secrets.” He sent a wink at me, which made me chuckle. “I gotta go guys, see you on Monday.” I walked out of the office, heading towards the silver elevator that would take me to the main floor.

Now, I normally don’t believe in dream analysis. There’s just not enough evidence to prove that our dreams are somehow linked to ourselves. However, the events in my dream felt so unbelievably real. I saw the woman again, with her gorgeous h/l hair and sparkling e/c eyes. We were in a void, which reminded me of being underwater. My hair was fanned around my head, as if I was swimming. I looked back over at the woman, her hair was also floating around her pretty face. The purple ribbon was no longer on her head, but instead it was tied around her pinky finger.

“Spencer, look!” She spoke, but her voice was echoed, and sounded like a weird mix of voices. “We’re connected.” I blinked, confused. “Connected?” I muttered to myself, before I felt a tug at my pinky finger, making me look down. Just like the woman’s, a purple ribbon was tight around my finger, and led just to her pinky.

I let a joyous laugh bubble out of my chest. “I guess we are.” I looked back at the girl, she was now closer. Her face was slightly blurry, but it also seemed so clear. She seemed sad, from the way her hands floated over my shoulders. “Please find me.” The woman with the purple ribbon whispered, her voice softening. “I need you.” Then I heard gunshots, screaming, and a woman screaming for help. I moved to protect the girl, but she was gone, I was now in a decrepit looking house. I unholstered my gun, approaching the door where I heard the noises. Blood began pouring from the crack between the door and floor. I let out a scream.

And then I woke up

--- Y/N L/N POV

Any method to get away from my psycho family was a win for me. Even if it meant hanging out with my shitty friends from high school, who did nothing but cause trouble and get high. Now I didn’t really have an issue with people getting high, I once dabbled in it when I was in my early college years. I only stopped when I started to fall behind in my classes.

So today, I decided I was going to the cute little coffee shop I passed after stopping at the library. I’ve been in a desperate need for coffee anyway. Looking into the mirror of my vanity, I cautiously applied makeup to my face. Brushing a hint of blush onto my cheeks as I smiled at myself. I loved makeup, maybe it was because my parents never let me use it growing up. They believed it was “against God's will” or yadda yadda.

It didn’t matter anymore, I lived in my own shitty apartment, so I could do whatever I wanted to myself. After finishing up the last touches to my face, I reached over to tie my ribbon. I didn’t know why, but I was always drawn to the color purple, so I bought a lot of purple-colored accessories. My ribbon was my most prized accessory though, I could tie it in my hair in whatever way I saw fit.

So, I tied it in my favorite way before admiring myself in the mirror once again. I tried to ignore the subtle scars marking certain locations on my face, but I felt like my makeup covered them well. Feeling satisfied, I switched off the lights, grabbed my phone and headed out.

“Ugh seriously?” I exclaimed as I stepped outside, only to feel the subtle drops of rain on my hair. The coffee place was only a block or so from my apartment complex, and I really didn’t feel like digging for my keys again. So, I bolted, hurrying to the cafe as the rain started to pelt down harder.

Once I reached the building, I threw open the door and got inside. Breathing heavily, I searched my purse for my wallet and made my way over to the line. The line went by fast, I ordered my coffee and went to sit down right by the window. A storm had rolled in, I sipped at my beverage as I watched people outside scramble about in hopes for shelter.

One of them being a handsome lanky man that I swore I saw somewhere. He glanced at me from outside, through the window, and his face lit up. He swiftly entered the cafe, and made a beeline over to me. He didn’t order anything, but the baristas seemed to recognize him, one of them even waved.

“I-I’m sorry is this seat taken?” The brunette asked, breathlessly, as he stood behind the seat next to me. I shook my head, scooting my chair over so he could get into the one he wanted. “Do I know you from somewhere?” I asked, curiously, I swore I recognized him.

The handsome man seemed surprised, he took off his soaked jacket. “Uh, I saw you last Tuesday.” He mumbled, his voice squeaking a bit. I bit the corner of my mouth and observed him from head to toe. He was well-dressed, with a dark grey cardigan over what seemed to be a dress shirt and tie. He wore dress pants, but had two well-worn converse and two differently colored socks.

Suddenly it came to me, I had glanced at him as I rushed to catch up with my friends. I remembered that I really wanted to look back at him again, but had a time constraint. “Oh yeah!” I grinned, taking another sip of my caffeinated beverage. “I remember now.” The man seemed pleased at my words, fumbling with the ends of his cardigan nervously. “Oh, well, I’m Doctor Reid.” The man seemed like he wanted to shake my hand, but kept his hands as far from mine as possible. He nervously cleared his throat, looking at me in the eyes. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Spencer gave me a hopeful smile, which I returned. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you Doctor, my name is Y/n.” I didn’t bother saying my last name, I didn’t want to be associated with it.

“No please, call me Spencer.” The fawn-brown haired doctor sounded tense. “No need to use formalities with me here.” He clarified, making me laugh. “Alright, alright. Spencer it is then.” When our eyes met, I swore that Spencer looked at me with so much intensity I thought I would explode. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to say something.

Ring

“Oh sorry lemme get that.” The doctor scrambled into his pocket, pulling out an ancient flip phone and answering the call. “What? Already?” He paused, listening into the call, I began to become more intrigued by the minute. His face fell, his once bright and handsome face turned into one that resembled haunted somberness. “I understand, I’ll be there right away Hotch.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, not bothering to suppress my curiosity. “It’s my-job.” Spencer answered sluggishly, making a face as he slid on his damp jacket. “Oh?” I watched as he scrambled for a napkin and he fished a pen from his satchel.

“Call me?” The honey-eyed man asked hopefully, after sketching out his number on the paper. I nodded, taking the napkin into my hand, scanning over the haphazardly written numbers. “Of course-” I responded, but Spencer was already halfway out the door. I snorted, slipping out my phone and typing in the man’s number. Now THIS will be interesting...

---

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #multiparter #spencer reid fluff #purple #criminal minds #reader insert #implied soulmates

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thebeauregardbros · 4 years ago

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“The Ultimate Character Questionnaire”: Alus Beauregard

a fuckton of random questions abt alus ramblingly answered

questions stolen from [here]. i cut out ones that ask the same questions i accidentally answered prior, or just didn’t interest me enough to answer, so if you wanna do this for your own OC I recommend copy+pasting it from the source!

Basic Character Questions

First name? Alus (pronounced ‘Ah-Loose’)

Surname? Beauregard (taken from adoptive father)

Nicknames? Alus wants to be called “Al” but it doesn’t stick because his name is already short. Lots of people unfortunately call him Alice. he does not like that

Date of birth? unknown but he celebrates his birthday on All Saint’s Wake (aka Halloween)

Age? Funfact: Alus and Arc’s age is the age between the RPers’ real-world ages (I’m 24, Arc’s player is 25, but for a brief period Arc’s player becomes 26 while I’m still 24.) So they’re going to be 25 this year (2020)... what the fuck. stop growing. dont do that.

Physical / Appearance

Height? I... he’s tall. Despite Alus being the max height for Miqo’te characters (5′8″/173cm), other male Miqo’te RPers say their characters are taller than that anyway, so I’m like.. not sure what to answer. I don’t want to break reasonable canon of what’s possible for Miqo’te but I also don’t want him to be short or average sized in comparison to other average Miqo’te. I’m just gonna say, definitively, “Alus is tall for a Miqo’te”. If you have a tall Miqo, Alus is just as tall. Or half an inch taller. Take that as whatever you want. I’m tired.

Weight? I... don’t know? This question really doesn’t clarify anything to me; people can be the same height and weight and look totally different in body type. If you absolutely had to get an answer from me, my best guess is maybe somewhere between 170lbs-180lbs? (assuming he is 5′8″)

Build? Wide shoulders, slender hips, long legs, big wide chest and a nice strong core. He is muscular; burly and brawny; his body type feels intimidating and large. He has a healthy amount of fat over his muscles, but still has much clearly visible muscle especially while flexing.

Hair colour? Golden blonde; it’s got a subtle yellow-ish tone that reminds you of sunshine.

Hair style? Alus’ hair is naturally thick and wavy. His hair is grown out long; about armpit length. His hair is choppy, even somewhat feathered. It’s a bit badly damaged from years on the road, but the split ends and fly-aways sparkle brilliantly in the sunlight like a messy halo around his head. His hair naturally very poofy, like damaged 80s hair. Long bangs that were once pushed back fall gracefully over his face like a wild child running about in spring. Whilst resting away from work, he braids it loosely.

Eye colour? Heterochromia; A raspberry red in one pupil, and a sun-shiny yellow-orange in the other.

Eye Shape? Thin and serious, and slightly down-turned. Small double-lid.

Glasses or contact lenses? His eyes are overall pretty healthy, but he’s slightly far-sighted. He uses glasses once in awhile to read, but they’re not super necessary.

Distinguishing facial features? Heterochromia and his adult male Miqo’te markings. He tends to wear purple eyeshadow around his eyes and a subtle purple lip tint.

Which facial feature is most prominent? The facial structure of Alus more resembles an Elezen than a typical Miqo’te; he has a long slender nose, a oval face shape and noticeably high cheekbones.

Which bodily feature is most prominent? Alus’ lion-like tail is somewhat unique among other typical Miqo’te.

Other distinguishing features? His style of dress tends to stand out in a crowd; he favors pure white and soft pastels over more popular color tones among adventurers like blacks and greys. Also unlike the typical adventurer, he is more want to wear fabrics of the fancy and soft nobleman, decked out in frills and lace like a prince locked far away in a chamber more than any man on a dusty and bloody battlefield.

Skin? Uh... a... “medium tan” skintone? (again I have no idea how tf I’m supposed to figure out labels for skin tones when there’s no widely used phrases for specific tones fghdjkgh) with a “warm gold undertone”. The small amount of skin that’s ever exposed upon him is surprisingly soft, as if he never did much hard work in his life. [SPOILER]Underneath his clothes, however...The countless scars upon his torso, back, legs and upper-arms are rough and hard, like treated leather.[/SPOILER]

Birthmarks? Not that he knows of. He has lots of scars from messing around in his childhood but he can’t remember the origin of them all. Any of them could be birth marks as far as he can tell.

Tattoos? None! And he never plans to get one. He has yet to see any tattoos that match his personal aesthetics of what he’d put on his body yet and even if he did, he can’t imagine liking them enough to want to get one.

Physical handicaps? [SPOILER]Numbness in various small patches of skin throughout his body.[SPOILER]

Type of clothes? I already answered this somewhat but if you’re curious about specifics, I made [this pinterest] of stuff I’d imagine he’d wear. Pretty much just take the “aristocrat” Japanese street fashion genre and turn it white, and give it a bit of a gold trim. Lots of frills and lace; heavily inspired by fantastical shoujo manga glorified depictions of what a Prince Charming looks like in medieval setting fairy tales.

How do they wear their clothes? Some (not all) of the specific guidelines I have in my head of what his wardrobe’s like; Colors are only pastels, white, or gold - once in a blue moon he might wear a rich dark raspberry red color or bright orange or yellow. He will NEVER wear grey or black. Pants have to be long enough to reach the ankles. He prefers wearing his shirts tucked-in. Clothes MUST fully cover everything on his body excluding head, neck, and hands at all times - low neckline acceptable in off-duty time. Under special occasions only (ie beachware); lower arms, top of feet or shins can be uncovered. He wears a lot of jabot ties.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc) Alus takes his quality of fashion seriously. He’s the type of guy who wears expensive fancy soft white socks trimmed with gold nobody will ever see with the little suspenders on his legs to keep the socks from sagging down. He adores wearing white pointed dress shoes, especially if they have a bit of a high heel. Gold jewelry or buckles are lovely, and any shoe with lace, bows, ribbons, fancy beadwork or faux flowers are supreme. (Google image search ‘Bridal Boots’ if you wanna see his shoes. He’d seriously wear any of them.)

Race / Ethnicity? hhhhhhhhh it’s 5am man I dont have the energy to google faces until i find a reasonable faceclaim and try to figure out that person’s ethnicity... they’re Fantasy Characters... alus is a miqo’te.. maybe had some elezen or hyur in his lineage? idk

Mannerisms? Alus is like a living embodiment of a cartoon Disney prince. I don’t know how to better describe it; He’s elegant and gentle for the most part but can also so comically stiff you could mistake him for an automaton or a piece of background cardboard - then when the moment hits, he can spring into an unrealistic slapstick looney toon nightmare. He always seems to be in a constant state of floating between elegance, stiffness, and slapstick. There is never a break. There is never an in-between.

Are they in good health? For their active life circumstances of constant physical hardship, they are in amazingly good health.

Do they have any disabilities? I don’t think of ADHD as a disability (and I’m saying that as someone who has autism and most likely ADD or ADHD myself) but it’s classified by a lot of people as a disability. So yeah, uh, Alus absolutely has ADHD.

Personality

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Definitely more optimistic, sometimes to a fault. I think there’s a degree of choice in there but he’s kinda lost the boundary between blind trust and trying to believe in people and situations because he morally wants to. He is still a worry wart, and that is what causes him to fight so hard as he does for making things around him better as well as making himself better - but I think he makes a very active effort of not letting anyone see that part of him, maybe in an effort to convince himself as well that everything is and will be okay.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Extroverted in a lot of ways and introverted in others. Alus loves and thrives around people, and I think he’s a bit more drained than the average person when he’s alone vs. being in a crowd, but he’s still living more as an introvert - one-on-one deep talks can make him extremely anxious. He’s great at the surface niceties but can often find himself too devoted to strangers, which leads him into trouble sometimes. He’s like a really great social co-worker and a extremely awkward off-duty member of society that doesn’t really know how to function or navigate normal relationships.

Do they ever put on airs? A b s o l u t e l y. Alus’ entire persona is carefully hand-crafted over a lifetime. It’s not to say “This isn’t who he really is, he’s a liar”, but moreso “He’s not quite the person he wishes he was yet.” He makes a really large effort to put on airs of this confident and beautiful Princely type of heroic figure straight out of a fairy tale where he simultaneously knows that such a goal is impossible, since this isn’t a story book - this is real life, he is flawed and complicated, and nothing is as perfect as you wish it was. But he keeps trying no matter what.

What bad habits do they have? Low-key bullying his brother, for sure. Arc is the only person Alus just can’t really put on airs with so his perfect image just breaks down around him. While Alus appears to be a very gentle and kind individual around other people, he’ll comically slap and roast his brother without mercy. (Don’t worry; it’s mutual between them.)

What makes them laugh out loud? Almost anything. Alus is definitely a big giggler, and an even bigger loud spontaneous laugher.

How do they display affection? There’s two major levels of it. First, it’s showering you with little gifts - sweets, flowers, even money if you’re in need, with nothing asked in return. If you’re very close to him, it’s skinship; he loves spontaneously hugging others and holding hands and all that kinda platonic stuff. He’ll pretty much not let go of your arm if you’re around him. He also loves dancing with people, you bet he’ll do the whole nine yards of weaving you around him, lifting you above his head and dipping you.

Mental handicaps? Hates being touched. He has some really bad memories of being manhandled and despises any type of physical restriction on himself, especially from people he doesn’t find VERY close to him. He hates even more to be seen in casual clothes, especially clothes that expose his skin. He’s really not a fan of his exposed body and it’s gonna take a lot for him to get over it. He’s slowly getting better but it’s a long journey.

How do they want to be seen by others? Someone to look up to; someone to rely on. He wants to be the hope for humanity, essentially. He wants to inspire others to heroism and kindness just by seeing him, and he wants to make the world a better place just by existing in it.

How do they see themselves? Someone who’s just not good enough; Someone who needs to keep working to be better; someone who’s chosen destiny is to be the hero of humanity.

How are they seen by others? Probably as a weirdo. He definitely comes off as eccentric; his strange comedic ramblings and sudden dancing mid-conversation, as well as his random gifts and bag full of pranks, magic tricks and fireworks just really feel off-the-wall. His immediate devotion to others may also come off as exceedingly suspicious. I think how he dresses and his cafe also indicate he’s kind of the ‘rich unhinged guy’ stereotype. People who know him well though know that he’s an extremely good person who would give you the clothes off his back if you needed them more. He loves humanity and would do anything for it.

Strongest character trait? His stubborn devotion to his ideals, for sure. If he wants something, he’ll work his hardest to make sure it happens.

Weakest character trait? Far too trusting of strangers; he gets taken advantage of very easily, and he’s almost always happy to come back for more. He’ll even give the biggest villain a 2nd and 3rd and 4th chance. His inability to condemn anyone as truly evil may cause far more hardship for everyone in the long run than if he just chose to kill the person or lock them up indefinitely and be done with it.

How competitive are they? Alus thrives in competitive environments due to an absolute love and adoration for sportsmanship. He does a fantastic job making his competitors have fun and feels that a competition that is too one-sided doesn’t have any fun or worth. He loves difficult competition because he feels that it helps better himself and his rival.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Oh, he’s absolutely a “strike now while the iron’s hot” type of a guy. He knows that even a second of a wait can change things for the worse. He’s also definitely a philosophical type that thinks over every possible scenario in his mind in his off-time, but ultimately, he’ll always be the one running off to get things done as soon as they’re brought to his attention. He’s the opposite of his brother, who wants to slow things down before making rash decisions. Alus just knows those decisions need to be made, so it might as well be now, so he just gets it done and worries about the outcome later.

How do they react to praise? He’s actually probably never used to it. I think he has a bit of a low self-esteem problem in how he sees himself as never quite as good as he wants himself to be, so praise can catch him off-guard pretty easily. He’ll cover that up by clumsily stating something comically over-the-top like “Of course, I am incredible! I am the best! Mwahahaha!” but not before gasping for air and stuttering like a shy schoolgirl first.

How do they react to criticism? He has a great ability to deflect toxicity into positivity; he asks what people mean and tries to understand them. I think if the criticism can be taken as constructive, he’s always happy to take it. If the criticism is just plain mean, I think he’ll ask if there’s anything he can do to help the person he’s talking to - he knows nobody would say such mean things to another unless they were having a pretty bad day.

What is their greatest fear? Oh, y’know. Losing his brother. Slugs and slimy things. If you wanna get painful and philosophical about it, I think he’s terrified of the future. He tries to live in the moment and just do the best he can at all times, but when he sees that what he does doesn’t help a lot of the world to stay safe, it freaks him out. In his mind, he’s doing a lot, but in reality - it’s not much at the grand scheme of things. He tries not to think about it too much. He tries not to think much of the past either - of all the mistakes, of what he could and couldn’t have done. It frustrates him. I guess you could say his greatest fear is his own limits. It never feels like he’s doing enough, or even if he ever could do enough.

What are their biggest secrets? [SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY] Alus is absolutely disgusted with the military powers of the world, and the politicians. He tries to stay optimistic and bright on the outside - he stays useful and does what he can without complaint, he tries to lie to himself and say it isn’t too bad, tries to focus on the good these systems do, to be placated and trust his brother that things will work out alright in this setup - but he sincerely wishes that somehow they could be abolished entirely. He’s frustrated with the idea of any one person or power having control over the lives of others - people those single powers may never meet - will inevitably cause a lack of humanity and understanding of others. Nobody should have this power, not even him, not even the gods. As Alus’ writer, I don’t think he knows a good alternative, he just knows he’s seen enough immoral and inconsiderate shitfuckery in these systems that he can barely stand it anymore. I think many soldiers probably feel like this eventually. [/SPOILER]

What is their philosophy of life? literally just look at the [quote insp tag]

When was the last time they cried? I FEEL LIKE ALUS IS THE TYPE TO TEAR UP AT EXTREMELY COMMON SHIT TBH?? EVERYTHING IS SO BEAUTIFUL I STARTED CRYING TYPE??

What haunts them? [SPOILER]Literally just... becoming a soldier or a fighter to begin with. He wishes it never happened, he wishes the world didn’t need fighting to begin with. But he knows he can never go back now, and even if he did, he’d probably still become a soldier all over again. It’s all he can do in this violent, terrible world.[/SPOILER]

What are their political views? Notable traits would supporting equality rights for Beastmen, more funding towards helping refugees, more funding to adoption agencies and orphanages, more transparency about tax profit and spending, creating opportunities for different countries to share their culture.. etc. (Note: I like to believe that larger glaring IRL political issues like lack of LGBTQ+ rights, gender inequality, ableism, skin-color-based racism and other large current inhumane social problems aren’t problems in FFXIV’s universe. If your RP character uses bigotry in accurate line of these IRL social issues as a character trait, you are not welcome in my RP circle. Period.)

What will they stand up for? He hates violence in general, so he’ll do whatever he can to stop it. Anyone who seems to be controlling or keeping other people against their will is something he loathes. No means no!

Who do they quote? Urianger. like a lot. Probably mostly accidentally; he picks up a lot of vocal mannerisms from the guy.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outdoorsy, for sure. He grew up under the stars and being forced indoors for a long time will probably give him feelings of anxiousness and claustrophobia, especially if the space is small. He has had some bad experiences being unable to go outside so he takes his freedom to roam outdoors very seriously.

What is their sinful little habit? He loves sweets. This guy is all about boasting a healthy diet, but his weakness shows the exact opposite. More serious answer: He tends to procrastinate bad, especially when it comes to his passive military duties.

How do they treat people better than them? If they breathe, they’re royalty. Utmost respect and courtesy. Treats them as if he’s the royal butler to their fancy ass selves, even if they’re the lowest of the low in poverty.

How do they treat people worse than them? Honestly? Pretty much the same answer as above. If he gets truly angry at someone, he’ll tell them how and why straight-up, but he’ll never stop giving them the respect and courtesy he believes every human being deserves.

What quality do they most value in a friend? Someone who is as ridiculously open-hearted and ready to confess love to the nearest person along with anything else in the world as Alus tends to do, but also someone who pays close enough attention to him that they can tell when he’s in distress. Alus has a hard time speaking up about when he feels uncomfortable, so someone who has a talent for empathy - detecting other peoples’ emotions - would be incredibly invaluable. That’s the fastest way to his heart.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? None, and all. He thinks that if anyone gets carried away with any traditional virtue to the point that they’re causing evil in the world, they’re just misguided. He understands that - or at least actively wants to understand that - so he can forgive.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? He... honestly thinks of himself as more of an Elezen than a Miqo’te. So anything that ‘gives away’ that he’s a Miqo’te, he could probably do without. He likes his ears and his tail though! But maybe if he was taller? lmao. (I don’t intend to ever Fantasia Alus FYI, MAYBE if male viera comes out and my partner agrees to it AND I have absolutely no active RP going on, but it’s very unlikely, and if it does happen it will be considered a retcon, not a character development)

What is their obsession? Definitely his aesthetics. He spends an incredibly large amount of time, effort, and money on making himself look and properly act like a “fairy tale prince charming”. It’s not only a philosophical mindset of being moral and heroic, but also being charming and supportive to everyone around himself. He honestly hopes and believes that if he succeeds in creating and upholding this image that every person who rests their eyes upon him will be filled with determination and hope that heroism and safety is real.

What are their pet peeves? He disapproves of the glorification of alcohol, smoking, or any other vices that are bad for the average person’s health. He won’t turn away the people with these vices as potential friends, but he’ll certainly be tempted to lecture them on it. He is also really not a fan of casual skinship between strangers, nor is he a fan of an aggressively pessimistic attitude, nor will he ever really be used to people who wear very little clothing (He isn’t disapproving of the sex industry or sex workers per say, he just doesn’t ‘get it’; he could never imagine himself in their shoes), nor is he a fan of other people trying to change him to be more chill about his aesthetic code (how he dresses, how he positively interacts with others, etc.) - but he tends to be more quiet about his dislike of these things. He tries to stay open minded and patient, but yeah, maybe it’ll take a bit longer to get to ‘close friend’ status with these things.

What are their idiosyncrasies? (special mannerisms?) His posture tends to be stiff as a board: too perfect, like some sort of breathing statue or mechanic humanoid, while at other times it’s as if a switch is flipped to make him become a crazy slapstick ragdoll. He tends to speak in a constant fluctuation of ‘ye olde English’ and common casual speech, and he keeps a few feet distance from people he isn’t especially close with at all times. He’s generous with money and far too trusting of strangers to the point it feels like an overblown parody of these traits. He’s painfully optimistic and takes compliments first with a moment of surprise before he adjusts his reaction with over-the-top narcissistic vigor. He’s a constantly faltering image of himself. He’s a walking symbolism of good-hearted chaos.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? The only people Alus regards as true family is his twin brother, Arc, and his late adoptive father, Gwenneg. There are other Beauregards in the world, and other great “found family”-esque friends yet to make, but Alus cannot imagine them ever meeting the kind of friendship and connection he has with his brother and had with his father. Perhaps he’s tried in the past, but it just never feels the same. He’s at the point he’s given up on the idea of it happening casually.

What is their perception of family? A close-knit group that is always there for eachother, practically living at eachother’s hips. The type of people you can just glance at and they can read your mind, and even if they disagree with you, they’ll go along with you and fix it later. They’re always up for improving eachother. They are essentially extensions of oneself, and like limbs, even if such is cut - it is carefully looked after and healed, the rest of the body worries and tries to better it, never blaming it’s limb for not being good enough. All part of one system.

Describe their best friend. Arc is undeniably Alus’ best friend. I feel a bit weird talking about my friend’s OC for them, but I will say this; Arc’s strengths are in his slow and strategic approach to things; his love of politics and ability to glide through them, the way he finds the best routes and setups in battle, the timing, everything down to the little tiniest details to turn a battle of either wits or blood - he thinks over all of it, something Alus lacks. And despite being much less prone to trust than the willingly naive Alus, he can find the good in just about anybody when it really comes down to it. Arc knows the dark side of this world and is constantly aware and remembering of it, but understands it’s still worth fighting for. He’s also got a pretty good fashion sense! He seems extremely shady when it comes to his bar business though... It seems to be played up as a joke, but you’re never quite sure as you’re talking to him about it.

Ideal best friend? In assumption this means ‘a best friend besides Arc’, I think Alus’ standards are low. Of course, he’d love to have someone who shares his basic interests of aesthetics and his moral philosophy that centralizes on a love for humanity, and the honor and strength of action to act on it, but he also wants to know someone who can teach him a lot. I think that type of person could be absolutely anyone, especially someone that is nothing like him. Alus doesn’t want to necessarily completely change himself through the journey of knowing anothers’ life, nor change someone else entirely either, even if it’s for the better. He just wants mutual understanding with others. He finds a joy that can be found nowhere else when he feels two people, who don’t have anything in common, can find a common ground. This kind of thing excites him. I think something in-between -- someone who is a lot like him in a lot of ways, but has a few traits he lacks completely -- is ideal for him.

Describe their other friends / Describe their acquaintances. (combo’d) Alus doesn’t really have other people he regards true friends, I think. He kinda regards every person he meets as his friends. That’s really all there is to it for him.

Do they have any pets? No pets, just a lot of animals that follow him around for food scraps and snacks. He always has an open window for birds and butterflies, and an open door to dodos and chickens and stray cats. He enjoys the company of birds the most, though he’s a fan of the loyal doggy too. In terms of his mounts - He mainly only claims ownership over his military-issued chocobo for paperwork purposes, but regards her as a friend without a voice more than an animal under his ownership.

Who are their natural allies? Anyone who agrees for humanitarian rights, I think. Alus just exists to be a hero, really.

Who are their surprising allies? People he once fought. He always reaches out a hand for people who’ve made mistakes and tells them that he’ll be their friend if they agree to stop their mean-spirited behavior.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? Equal combination “good kid” and “absolute little shit”; On the surface, he’d always be loyal to his father and polite to strangers, but the second he and his brother got some time to themselves they’d get into all kinds of shenanigans - especially if they manage to find some way to conceal their identity. Most of those shenanigans were pranks trying to scare people with All Saint’s Wake-esque props. They were also a time they were absolutely not above purposely trying to confuse people on which brother was which whenever it was convenient or just funny.

Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor, but I think he still thought himself as lucky. He might not have had a big room to himself or a lot of possessions, but he got to travel the world and meet so many interesting people and see so many interesting things in his father’s caravan.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured for sure. His family were joined at the hip.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said? I’m sure Alus used to have a potty mouth when he was a kid and young teen. He picked it up from being exposed to so many different individuals growing up. If he’s been around a lot of sailors in Lima Lominsa, I think it’s a safe bet that he probably swore like one too. After his father died that changed almost immediately though in order to honor his dad’s memory.

What is their greatest achievement? I’m sure there’s much more impressive individual achievements he has accomplished - monsters he’s fought, hostage situations he’s negotiated, villains he’s managed to persuade to become heroes, but if you asked him, he’d tell you that simply being lucky enough to be chosen to become one of the Warriors of Light or opening his cafe are the achievements he’s most proud of.

What was their first kiss like? [spoiler]Still haven’t had it![/spoiler]

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? I feel like even though Alus adored his father, he probably did a lot of things to make him worried or stressed out, maybe even ran away once or twice just for the fun of it. It was a lot more innocent time for Alus and I don’t think he’d do anything like that in adulthood.

What are their ambitions? Alus just wants to end all war. Full stop. It’s not that complicated. He doesn’t really know the most effective way how to, though. He just keeps doing whatever he can when people request his help - which usually ends up taking advantage of his physical combat skills.

What advice would they give their younger self? Cherish this time. Hug your father and tell him you love him more often. And maybe focus on being a medic or someone who helps the world peacefully more than someone who uses violence to solve the world’s problems. Maybe care a little more about politics.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Chamomile, road dust, seasalt, and old fancy dusty antiques.

What was their childhood ambition? To grow up to be a glamorous warrior that saves the world again and again and to rescue a pretty princess.

What is their best childhood memory? Dancing on the streets of Ul’dah with his brother for a little extra pocket money and becoming unexpectedly popular.

What is their worst childhood memory? Losing his father to the calamity and being passed between temporary foster homes again and again, then finally losing his brother in that mess, too.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Alus left out honeyed milk for faeries all the time as a child. Post-calamity, he started to quietly make-believe that faeries and little unicorns visited him when he was particularly lonely or bored, or just wanted to escape his own mind for awhile.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? [FFXIV POST-STORMBLOOD SPOILER]Hearing about Zenos’ body being revived against Zenos’ wishes for a perfect death.[/SPOILER]

What past act are they most ashamed of? Any time Alus can’t save someone from death. Sometimes, Alus must be the one to kill them himself. This is an unbearable sin to bear for him.

What past act are they most proud of? Any time he can save someone. Any time he can help the suffering of someone by giving a little coin. Every time he has made someone smile. It is all the most cherishable, wonderful memories to him. None better than the others.

Has anyone ever saved their life? His twin brother Arc probably on at least a weekly basis. I think saving eachothers’ lives is a regular thing on a battlefield, even if your ally is basically a stranger.

Strongest childhood memory? Just sitting underneath the stars, curled up under a blanket with his brother while they rest their head on their father’s lap as he reads them bedtime stories.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? Absolutely. Guy will trust anyone at the drop of a hat, why not fall in love, too?

Are they in a relationship? Not officially, no. I think he casually flirts a lot and has gone out on sporadic dates with many people, but he hasn’t become anyone’s “steady”.

How do they behave in a relationship? Alus is extremely inexperienced. I think he’ll end up trying so hard to show off to whoever he’s dating that he’ll become exhausted. He wants to treat his future spouse like royalty.

When did you character last have sex? [SPOILER]Never![/SPOILER]

What sort of sex do they have? Nothing kinky or out there, he’s a shy confused mess to begin with when it comes to sex - he’s probably very reserved and traditional about it. I should note that Alus is canonically asexual, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet. He doesn’t really understand the appeal of sex but he’d want his significant other to be happy. [NSFW/18+] He’d definitely insist on being a top, though. [/SAFE!]

Has your character ever been in love? As an greyromantic writer, I have no fucking solid idea what romantic love is supposed to be defined as. If you define it as ‘fantasizing about having a certain person in mind as a future spouse’ then, yes, Alus has been in love loads of times.

Have they ever had their heart broken? Many times, but it rarely gets him down for too long - he’ll fall in love with the next person he sees, then the cycle restarts.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? A fake, forced smile. Explaining calmly to the enemy that what they’re doing is wrong. Explaining calmly to the enemy to drop it and go drink tea with him instead. If being calm doesn’t work, yelling at them about their hypocritical morality like some sort of shounen superhero making a speech.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, for sure. Alus will be so painfully reasonable with his enemies that the only way he’s drawing his sword to fight is someone else draws first.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Like any hero, he’s a sucker for hostages. Also, math completely turns him fucking stupid. [SPOILER]Also... having his morality questioned, especially being accused of being a hypocrite.[/SPOILER]

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? A faerie tale storybook from his childhood his father read to him often when he was alive.

How do they perceive strangers? “A friend he doesn’t know yet.”

What do they love to hate? I don’t really imagine Alus truly ‘hates’ anything or anyone, just greatly dislikes or disapproves of them. And even then I think he doesn’t particularly enjoy disliking them. I don’t think he views negative feelings as something to be prideful over.

What are their phobias? Slugs and other slimy creatures, as well as mild situational claustrophobia.

What is their choice of weapon? His fists, for sure; there’s some sort of philosophy inside his mind that fighting with his bare hands or body without tools or weapons to aid him is the ultimate form of respect towards other human beings’ pain and livelihood - he wants them to know he shall feel pain right back if he strikes someone else, and he’s allowing himself the possibility to be hurt in return.

What living person do they most despise? I think anyone who justifies war or pain as a glorious and wonderful thing instead of a tragedy is someone he dislikes. Especially if said person has no respect for human life or the bodies of the fallen.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? Plenty. Unfortunately mostly his given name is particularly targetted. He’s also been called too soft plenty of times.

Where do they go when they’re angry? Home - his house is well soundproofed and cozy. He may go on an off-trail walk alone in the middle of Thanalan or the like.

Who are their enemies and why? The Garlean army, the Ascians.. do you really need to ask why? They wish to create death and chaos, that’s plenty of a reason enough.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? Maelstrom military field medic, café proprietor, free paladin

What do they think about their current job? The café is seemingly always empty, but he doesn’t mind continuing to pour money into it. It’s a safe haven to him and a symbol of his independence from the violent life of military duty. Being a field medic is endlessly horrifying, but he’s glad he can help people. His status of Free Paladin makes him obligated to carry out duties to help Eorzea, which is something he’s proud of - but he is always not all that great at drawing his sword at the sign of trouble.

What are some of their past jobs? The only other “jobs” Alus has had in the past were mostly just side jobs for a little extra pocket money, mostly dancing on the street.

What are their hobbies? Dancing, capoeira martial arts, piano, tea brewing, baking, reading, writing, sketching, watercolor art, goldsmithing, fashion, bird keeping.

Educational background? Went to a school for accounting for a few years. He retained absolutely no information about accounting.

Intelligence level? Literate; can read older more complex texts easily. Good with maps. More of a “physical education” kinda guy.

Do they have any specialist training? Paladin training. Nothing else formal.

Do they have a natural talent for something? Weirdly incredibly good at parkour - stuff like navigating tightropes and climbing up buildings without any hesitation or struggle.

What is their socioeconomic status? At the moment, Alus is pretty well-off. He and his brother own their own business in the Lavender Beds, and Alus can afford high class clothes, hobbies, furniture and the like. He’s also prone to donate to charity near constantly.

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? whatever birds are ROUND

Which animal to they dislike the most? S L U G S

What place would they most like to visit? His cafe, honestly. It’s a safe haven.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? People.

What is their favourite song? Simply Satie

Music, art, reading preferred? Alus loves playing piano, drawing sketches and reading storybooks. I don’t think he could trade one for the other! (He’s awful at singing though.)

What is their favourite colour? Pale blue, white, yellow-gold, and pastel pink.

What is their password? “Password”. Nobody will ever get it!

Favourite food: La Noscean toast! (AKA French toast!) with lots of berries and whipped cream!

Who is their favourite artist? ??? ((OOC: if Alphonse Mucha was in FFXIV it’d be him idk))

What is their favourite day of the week? E V E R Y D A Y (but probably mostly Sunday)

Possessions

What is in their fridge: Fresh salad, fruits, fresh berries, vegetables, tofu, jackfruit, orange juice, leftover strawberry shortcake, protein shakes, leftover rice, eggs, butter, yogurt, frozen berries... and even fresh flowers?

What is on their bedside table? A dozen lighthearted fairytale and academic books on aether he recycles through reading every night as he goes to bed, a pitcher & glass of water, a vase with a flower in it, reading glasses, 3 inch tall lil stuffed dodo.

What is in their bin? Compost bin for old fruits/vegetables/egg shells/bread and a recycling bin full of paper and packaging garbage.

What is in their bag? A lot of coin, a hairbrush, a box of ice chilled flowers, travel-size beauty products, lots of fireworks and other fun little spectacle toys, a pocket-sized book of poetry, a basic armor polishing set, a miniature sewing kit, bandages, healing potions.

What is their most treasured possession? A very old and damaged book of fairy tales from his childhood.

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? His adoptive father - at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

Do they believe in the afterlife? Yes! Very much so.

What are their religious views? [SPOILER]Alus has a complicated relationship with religion. For the most part of his life, he’s believed in The Twelve like every other Eorzean, but as he’s grown older he’s found himself more and more impatient and even disgusted of the cruelties that the gods allow to happen, and the ways followers of Nald’thal and Halone use their religion as a means to prey on the weak for the sake of money, classism, and racial disparity. Hearing the words of Garlean soldiers point out that proof that The Twelve exist is seemingly nonexistent has further disrupted Alus’ belief in them. Alus does, however, firmly believe in Hydaelyn.[/SPOILER]

What do they think heaven is? Alus has no true confident belief in what exactly the seven heavens are, but he likes to think heaven is a place where flowers bloom all the time, the weather is always warm and sunny, bugs don’t bother you and war and violence never happen, and relaxing tea parties are hosted all day long, clothes are comfortable and pretty and never soiled by dirt and mud no matter how much you play in the grass.

What do they think hell is? Like many Eorzeans, Alus believes in the seven hells. The seven hells are a place that one must climb out of to eventually make it to heaven, and depending on how bad of a person you were in life, the deeper in hell you start out in after you die, and the more you have to climb before you get upward into heaven. Alus finds great comfort in this ideology because it means that no matter how bad a person was in life, they may still find forgiveness and redemption in death.

Are they superstitious? I think he’s open-minded. He seems to discover so many legends of being real every day that it’s difficult for him not to believe in anything and everything he hears. He tries to be respectful of the unknown and follow their rules, but when push comes to shove it’s all about the grandest happiness for everyone - he will challenge whatever fae or ghostly apparition that wants to mess with him if he thinks what they’re doing is immoral or unfair.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? A stream. A rosebush. A rainbow. Something that others can look at and feel at peace, something for others to enjoy. A way to give love without living a life that inevitably creates suffering through heroism. To just exist as part of the beauty in the world.

How would they like to die? He doesn’t know. Death scares him. He does not want to die in battle. He does not want to die sleeping in a bed. But he wishes he’ll be old. He wishes he’ll have lots of friends. And he wishes he did everything he could while he was alive to make the world a better place as much as he possibly could.

What animal is most like your character, spiritually speaking? .... A golden retriever. Eager to please, extremely loving and loyal, a strong body, picky about weird things, and incredibly goofy.

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Betrayal?? torture?? bullying?? rape?? what do you want from me. He hates all forms of toxic and violent behavior!!

What is their view of ‘freedom’? The ability to form your own path; the ability to be whatever you want, even if the dream seems impossible to everyone else. The ability to go anywhere you want, walk and run anywhere you want, travel anywhere you want. The ability to say no when you want. The ability to be respected as independent.

How often do they lie? NEVER!!!!!!! He might bend the truth a little bit or side-step an answer but even white lies he’s not into. He rarely needs to white lie about anything anyway; he tends to see the best in everything.

What’s their view of lying? BAD AND UNNESSESARY

How often do they make promises? Constantly.

How often do they keep or break their promises? He 100% keeps his promises unless he’s literally physically incapacitated and in which case he will apologize and try to make it up to you so much

Daily life

What are their eating habits? Vegetarian. He eats really healthy and he eats a lot. Big fan of asian food I think. Has no problems eating stuff that’s bland as hell; I feel like it’s part of his determination to better himself. Has a terrible weakness for sweets, though. Secretly hates stuff that’s slimy, like mushrooms, but he will never complain if it’s given to him.

Do they have any allergies? Nope, he’s lucky. If he does, he hasn’t discovered it yet.

Describe their home. Very white, tons of gold nouveau trim on everything, and tons of flowers everywhere. Looks like the home of royalty. [Here’s his housing aesthetic.]

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Neither, I think. Maybe leaning closer to minimalist over clutter-lover; he likes everything being clean and easy to access in his house. His design aesthetic of nouveau isn’t necessarily minimalist in inherent style though imo.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Wakes up extra early, takes a quick cool shower to wake himself up, eats a quick and simple breakfast full of protein; most likely something with a lot of nuts and eggs as it’s ingredients + big salad. packs a simple lunchbox and starts his day: Every morning, he walks to the statues of Nald and Thal, viewing the warm pink sunrise in the process. he pays his respects to each; cleans and dusts with a simple cleaning kit he’s left there prior. Leaves some simple offerings. Finds somewhere nice and empty in Thanalan to do some excercises and martial arts training for the day. sits down and eats lunch afterwards. lazily walks home, takes another quick shower to get the sweat and dust off. while his hair is drying, he puts on makeup and decides a proper outfit to wear for the day. meets up with arc, goes on their obliged military-issued mission for the day.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Makes an effort to drag Arc over to his place for a big fancy dinner. Tea and crumpets as an early evening appetizer. Alus cooks everything while Arc hangs out and talks, lending a bit of help when Alus demands asks for him. Arc sneaks in alcohol. Alus yells at him. repeat next week.

What do they do on a Friday night? this but like, outside, alone, in the middle of thanalan somewhere

What is the soft drink of choice? If soft drinks existed in Eorzea I can’t help but feel like Alus is one of those freaks who don’t like any of them.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? NO

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? This question originally linked to some basic archetypes, but I already have TVtropes collected and they’re far more interesting as an answer imo SO: [All-Loving Hero], [Reluctant Warrior], [Cloudcuckoolander], [Warrior Poet], [Stepford Smiler], [Motor Mouth], [Large Ham], [Stupid Good], [In Touch With His Feminine Side], [The Fashionista], [Light Is Good], [Flower Motifs], [Declaration of Protection].

Who is their hero? I don’t think Alus has a specific person in mind that isn’t fictional - fact is, nobody is as perfect as the type of person he strives to be. I think he finds traits of admirable heroism everywhere in people, though. Everything from his friends who fight for the good of the world no matter what, from the villain who unexpectedly saves someone while nobody else is watching, to the single mother who works hard to raise her children, to the homeless people who just continue to fight on to live even when everything feels so hopeless around them. I think he sees traits in others he wishes he had all the time. He wants to embody all the good traits of everyone. And I should mention, if one is to have a ‘hero’, it is expected that person to be better than one, yes? I don’t think Alus believes he’s particularly better than anyone else, especially in their positive traits.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Alus goes HARD on All Saint’s Wake. He and Arc’s signature best costume always ends up being these hyper-realistic ghost costumes that they trick out with special glamours, magic, and tech to surprise the passerby. If it doesn’t genuinely scare someone, it isn’t enough!

Are they comfortable with technology? I think he’s absolutely got the boomer brain when it comes to allagan technology. He can get by fixing old mechanical clocks and the like but when it comes to allagan stuff, he’s just absolutely out of his element. He’ll certainly listen if someone wants to try explaining it to him, but it’ll take considerable time before he fully “gets it” and usually when he does, it’s more on blind faith and an ability to follow basic directions more than true understanding. I think in general it just doesn’t really interest him and if he’s going to spend the time and energy to learn about it, he’d rather use that energy on his other interests - books, physical training, baking and the like. (Modern AU: He’s absolutely the guy still using an ancient flip phone because “It still works!” Also, he capitalizes and uses perfect grammar in all his extremely-hard-to-type number code texts.)

If they could save one person, who would it be? It’s a difficult question, because of course - the first person to come to mind is Arc. But the thing is, Arc can take care of himself. And Alus knows this. Alus trusts this. So when it comes down to choosing between Arc and someone less capable.. Alus will most likely help the less capable person. If Arc is hurt, Alus knows he’ll forgive him. But if Arc were to die? And it be Alus’ fault? It would utterly crush him.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Arc, of course. There’s nobody Alus would rather have by his side while dealing with problems.

What is their favourite proverb? “Since it is likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and courage.” – C.S. Lewis (Personally my fav proverb in thinkin about Alus is “Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.” – Hermann Hesse)

What is their greatest extravagance? This is kind of a depressing and even controversial answer, but it’s honestly any time he has ducked out from military duty with or without permission when all of it has just gotten to him too much. He knows that him not being there will be more of a problem than a solution - he knows that - but any moment he can just pretend, for a moment, that he’s just a normal man running a normal little girlish cafe during a time without war.. That’s his greatest extravagance.

What is their greatest regret? The amount of enemies he has been forced to down when talk wasn’t enough is piling higher and higher every moon cycle. It’s an absolute horror. He tries so hard to be nonlethal as possible. He’s studied so much how to avoid vital organs, how to down someone without hurting them badly, but no matter what there is always the chance of there being a prior injury he didn’t know about, or a undiagnosed medical problem that was just activated by the smallest knock.. That isn’t even to mention the people who have been hurt because the people he talked down didn’t keep their word or stood back up when he thought they’d stay asleep. No matter what, he just isn’t enough to save everyone. Why is it that no matter how hard he works to have this ideal of pacifism, it never works completely? Why is it never enough?

What is their perception of redemption? That the unwavering truth of this world is that people are fundamentally capable of change. He refuses to believe otherwise, no matter what. Perhaps it is an active choice instead of an instinctual one, nobody is certain for Alus’ mindful case. He believes the expectation for lifelong punishment for a past crime is petty and cruel, and in itself deters people from switching sides for the better. He believes anyone and everyone deserves the right to have the choice to right their wrongs at any time. Don’t misunderstand though - He understands sometimes people are far too gone for simply dropping everything they’ve done and that’s enough to erase their mistakes - he knows that some people can only find rightful redemption in the afterlife after execution, even if execution is not an ideal solution to stopping them in his eyes. But he prays for them. He’ll never give up on anyone.

What would they do if they won the lottery? Back into investments or savings to get an even bigger profit later. Alus knows how to play the smart long game. But uh... If the fates play a trick and he sees a beautiful fashion piece in a shop window, maybe that won’t last too long. He’s also notoriously overly generous with money to the needy, he spends money on service tips like pouring water out of a glass. Money is always moving, and if he starts to run low, he just works a little harder to get back to the comfort zone. He’s in a pretty good place in his life monetarily wise atm already.

What is their favourite fairytale? It’s difficult to answer this because I don’t know what sorts of stories exist in Eorzean canon! But I can say that the real-world 1986 manga “The Sword of Paros” is a huge inspiration to Alus’ character. It’s about a person born with the title of ‘Princess’ who believes to have been born the wrong gender, and does everything in their power to prove themselves worthy of the title of ‘Prince’ despite immeasurable odds against them from their family and their country. The hero also falls in love with a commoner woman who wishes nothing more to be loved by the idyllic image of a charming knight in shining armor that comes and rescues her, and their love is ultimately tragic as it’s also not recognized as valid.. but the prince never stops fighting for his title and the right of his love, and the ability for them both to be happy. Though the story ends without the ideal conclusion, the very concept of these characters fighting against all odds for something genuinely better for the whole world is something Alus is really all about. (Also, seriously, read this manga. It’s groundbreaking. It’s Utena done right.)

What fairytale do they hate? Any faerietales that have unhappy endings, or seem to focus strongly on tragedy or pessimistic ideas of realism in the world. That tends to fall into the category of ‘cautionary tales’ most the time. He’s also really not a fan of stories with body horror or gore.

Do they believe in happy endings? I think he believes that happy endings should always be the goal, but I don’t think he truly accepts that they actually exist. He understands that happiness and safety is always temporary, and this is why he should always strive to make the world a better place. If he helps someone get to a point that they’re happy, healthy, and safe - he’ll just move on to the next person who needs his help. A happy ending for himself though? I think he’s not confident in it, but he wants to live every day to the fullest as he can before he dies. He accepts this as part of his duty - he knows he’s living on ultimately borrowed time.

What is their idea of perfect happiness? Being in love, being surrounded by people you love, having the support of others you trust and having the ability to spoil the people you care about. Having a home you’ll never be kicked out of.. And no war that you have to leave to. No people you have to harm. Just the peace to drink tea with your former enemies as you gaze out onto flowers on a warm day... That’s all he ever wants.

What would they ask a fortune teller? I think he’s concerned if he’ll ever someone to truly share his life with besides his brother. He just really wants a good friend.. Ideally, someone attractive he can hold the hand of!

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Before the Calamity. He’d just want to listen to his father tell him a few more stories again. He misses the peacefulness of his childhood, the certainty that someone out there stronger than him loved him and wanted to keep him safe, the ability to ignore his own call to war... He wouldn’t so selfish to want to try and bend fate enough to save his father, though he would if he had the chance.. But he knows it’s impossible.

What sport do they excel at? (Modern AU) He was definitely a cheerleader in highschool and/or college, I feel like. Probably into dancing! And ofc a dedicated martial artist. I feel like he’d be pretty good at football and wrestling too - games that require a bulky build to be great at - but he just doesn’t have a particular interest in either of those.

What sport do they suck at? (Modern AU) Probably stuff like archery and tennis - not only would he’d thrive better in big team sports, he’s just not much for long-range dexterity. He’d also be absolutely incompetent as an esports competitor lmfao.

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Anything that was especially effective at saving peoples’ lives. Time travel to stop mistakes before they happen or say the right thing before a war breaks out, super effective healing powers... anything. Just to stop suffering and death.

#meme #alus beauregard #ffxiv rp #this literally took me like 4 months to complete fuck

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

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Forgotten stories 2: From shadow hunter to Bald cuck (Mortal Instruments)

Alec signed as he was walking back from getting a snack to his room, and spotted jace coming back from his date and in tears. he was also in drenched pants and the stench of the piss someone ruined the taste and smell of his triple decker hogie sandwich. as the blond was home much earlier then expected, one had to assume the wet pants had something to do with it and Alec found himself mentally debating going and seeing what was wrong with the little crybaby or leaving him alone since Jace himself had clearly told him off and said he wasn't jace's daddy anymore. (the two had been in a bondage/ S & M nursery daddy and boi relationship that had amused many of the others but Jace himself had apparently gotten tried of soiling himself in bugling diapers and called it off.) Spotting Alec, jace whined loudly, then rushed over and practically tackled Alec, putting his sobbing face in the brunettes chest and knocking his sandwich to the floor. "No no, it's OK. not like i was gonna eat that." Alec grumbled softly, and then softly patting the sobbing dorks back. "ALEEEEECCC! it was Awful!" jace was sobbing and whimpering, and Alec was certain he was getting boogers all over his favorite shirt. "what happened,, as if i can't tell." Alec said, gently moving them toward his room. if he was going to have to be stuck with the little dork all night he wanted it in his room which had enchantments to cut down on the smell of certain things..which had proven useful when he let jace sleep in his room. (he'd also had enchantments put in Jaces room that amplify the effect of those same smells, meaning Jace's room could at times smell like a diaper pail.)

as the big baby calmed down enough he became to tell Alec how he'd met up with a boy from a bar, and they went and saw a movie together (Elmo vs. the teletubbies, part three) and the guy assumed that jace was just being quirky with the movie choice. After the movie they'd gone and picked up a 12 pack of bud, and then had gone back to the guys apartment for a quick little make out session before the main event. (alec had pointed out that Jace KNOWS that beer just goes right though him and due to his angel blood doesn't get him drunk, but Jace had just whined that he didn't wanna be rude.) sitting on the worn leather coach that the date had bragged was inherited from his grandfather, jace had felt himself getting crazy hot in the loins for the cutie, only to realize that he was getting hot, because he was starting to soak himself.

"So then the guy freaked out and yelled at me and called me a stupid diaper baby, so I smashed a beer bottle and cut up that stupid crotch and came home!" jace finished and sniffled, in just his soaked undies now and rubbing a eye as alec stripped him. "...well that was rude." alec said. "I know right? Like it was my fa-" "let me rephrase that. you were a naughty little boy who's in for it now,!" Alec said. "W-what!? But he yelled at ME!" "For pissing yourself like a god damn baby, yeah, and somehow you think he's in the wrong? you're gonna get put in proper clothing for a little spaz like you, then you're going to go over to his place with me and say sorry!" Jace huffed at that and stooped a foot, crossing his arms. "Not gonna and you can't make me!" Alec rolled his eyes at that and just reached for the hair brush as Jace's look of defiance turned to one of terror and the back of his undies, already piss stained, bloated out and a faint smell of shit filled the room. "...you know a cow could drop a deuce in here and the enchantments would cover it up? what the fuck have you been eating?" Alec asked. "...I like grilled cheese sandwiches but they don't like me." Jace whined. "..let's get you cleaned up, and dressed and then we'll visit this poor guy." "well uh..i don't remember his name. or where he lived.. or what he looked like!" Jace lied quickly. "I'm sure it'll all come back to you after a few minutes over my knee." "..Um..I uh..gosh it must of been a memory charm and somehow being back here cleared my head! I can tell you everything!" "amazing how that works. you're still getting a spanking for being a brat." "But thats not fairrrr!"

one quick and efficient shower later, Jace was being dried off by Alec and looking nervously at the hair brush and noming on a edge of the towel that was on his head. "Do..Do you hafa use the brush?" Jace finally asked, even though his cock was standing out at all 6 inches of it's stiff glory. "would you prefer I use the studded paddle? or got a wooden spoon?" Alec asked, noting with a smirk that despite the tremble and look of fear in the big babies eyes, and the fear in his voice.. jace's cock was twitching and drooling. "Nooo! Just your hand!" the Blond baby whined. "Hmmm..I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a hand spanking, but when we go you wear that pretty purple dress Isabelle got you. if you take the brush, sailor shorts and a sailor top with the hat. and if you take the paddle, Shortalls." Alec said with a smirk. "...I really hate you sometimes." "keeps our relationship interesting." Alec agreed. "ngggh..Not a freaking sissy.." Jace whined then looked thoughtful. "Make up your mind soon or you'll get both the brush and paddle, and then I'll put you in the dress." Alec said after 20 seconds. "Ah! Paddle!" the little diaper baby whined., then covered his mouth. smirking and tugging the whiny diaper bitch in for a forehead kissed, Alec chuckled. "no take backs."

before the spanking started, Alec made jace sit on a training potty (shaped like duck just to piss the little guy off) and used a spell to ensure that jace's bladder and bowels were cleared out before the spanking. he could always after all refill the brats guts, but this helped keep him from pissing all over the place or shitting everywhere. (the potty had been bought after the first spanking, so Alec knew what he was talking about.) with the sluices cleared so to speak, and Jace almost squirting out his loser milk five times as alec wiped his hole and cock clean, the blond brat was over his daddy doms lap. "...you know..you should go easy on me with the spanking." jace tried. "Oh?" Alec asked, tapping the paddle on the blonds bubble butt. "Y-yeah! see, you made me a helpless pants wetter so all of this tonight is kinda your fault." "mhmm..who begged who to spank them and put them in thick diapers where they belonged to start all of this?" alec asked. "...just saying is all." Jace huffed and closed his eyes. "well i predict the next thing you say is 'owwww daddy please spank me harder!'" alec smirked and brought the paddle down hard. and wouldn't you know it? He was right.

even with the ribbons he had tied around Jace's cock to keep the little bitch from spurting during his spanking, there was a puddle of pre on the floor that jace was currently laping up while on all fours, sobbing and moaning as he kept reaching behind himself to squeeze and fondle his tormented cheeks. Daddy meanwhile was laying out 4 thick diapers and then picking out a light tan pair of short all's and a white diaper shirt to go with. there was also a pair of white socks and a pair of tan sneakers,and to finish off the look there was a tan pacifier. "you better keep your cock under control brat or I'll bring out the clippers again." alec warned as he noted that Jace had been trying to low key work some of the ribbons off so he could FINALLY spurt out his load, his balls looking rather heavy and full. "Buh..but..I hate the head shaving!" Jace whined and pouted. "...according to you you hate all of this and yet here we are. though if you think about it. going up to a guy who was ready to fuck you..diapered." whimper. "Dressed like a toddler." Louder whimper. "and with your cuck diaper baby hair cu-" was as far as Alec got as jace cried out and fired out streams of cum, howling in frustration as the ribbons kept him for getting the full benefit and when he went to reach down and stroke himself Alec was quickly there, holding his hands behind his back and kissing Jace's neck. "you're gonna look cute as a cue ball." he chuckled. "A-asshole." jace whined.

the hair cut hadn't taken too long, and jace whined and sobbed as his long blond locked were shaved off all while daddy hummed happy tunes. the big baby was in just his diapers as daddy didn't want the hair getting all over his other clothes, but kept mentioning how itchy and irritated the shaving was going to leave the boy alll night long and would playfully pinch and tease jace's nipples while bringing such facts up. after getting his head bald as a melon, and making Jace wave bye bye to his hair before he flushed it down the toilet, Alec had then gotten the big baby dressed up and put a little curse on the pacifier that Jace could only remove it from his mouth with permission from daddy, or if someone else removed it for him. with the oversized nipple pressing down on jace's touge this meant that A) the former blond, now cue ball was blissfully quiet for a change and B) was a very drooly baby as Jace got out the seasume street themed toddler leash and got it attached to jace. "Don't worry though buddy.. if you get soo red faced and humiliated that you end up cumming again, this time daddy won't punish you. he'll just point it out to everyoneeeee." alec promised and rubbed the top of jace's head. "Man, you craving grapefruit too or just me?" he asked, making the poor baby bitch look in the mirror. jace just drooled and sulked. 'Jesus Christ. lex luthor likely has more hair then me now.'

heading out onto the streets, it was late enough that they didn't run into alot of people, though those that they did either stared and laughed, or who muttered about freaks. they did have the misfortune to go by a pack of vampires who took one look at the ex blond shadow hunter who loved to torment them and they all burst out laughing, giving the pair safe passage as they joked that they didn't hurt widdle babies. getting to the apartment block with jason (the Scottish boy that jace had been flirting with lived,) jace whined and mumbled around the paci, or tried to and just made more spittle go down his chin and add to the damp stain on the front of his shortalls. "huh..maybe next time I'll add a drool bib." Alec chuckled and then buzzed Jason's apartment. "Don't even think about trying to run. the same curse i put on your paci? i put on your diapers. unless you wanna be stuck in the same diapers for a week.." Alec trailed off and jace whined..but stopped trying to pull away. "Hello?" came a voice over the intercom and alec put up a finger for jace to stay silent, not that the big baby could talk right now. "Hi, is this jason Moonshore?" alec asked. "aye, what be it to you?" came the boys voice. "I have someone here who wants to say sorry for eailer tonight, and is going pay for the damages to your furniture." alec said. "...who's this and what makes you think i want that crazy bugger back up in here?" jason asked, his voice filled with hostitly. "I'm his Daddy dom, and trust me, you'll never forgive yourself if you don't at least see this." alec said. "look, there's 100 bucks in cash in it for you, taken from baby jace's own private little fund he was saving away to use on a trip to Disneyland." alec added as jace went wide eyed. that motherfucker had gone into his room and musta broken up mr.oinky, his piggy bank! DICK MOVE! "...aye just know I'ma regret this." the scot said after about 15 seconds of silence and buzzed them in.

As jason opened his door he took one look at jace and burst out laughing, and shaking his head. "git off, this is some damn yank prank show is it?" he asked, poking his head out into the halls to look for cameras. "nope. just a total diaper wearing bottom bitch and the poor sucker who puts up with him. may we come in?" Alec asked. "I suppose so.." Jason said and looked down at the puffy waist of jace. "aye doubt he'll be leaking anymore in here t'night." he added with a grin and stepped aside. though as jace waddled past, eyes filling with tears and looking down at the carpet he handled off and swatted the big baby's puffy backside. "aye could get used to that." he mused. "Noted. I'm always looking for babysitters. " alec laughed. Popping the pacifier out of Jace's mouth alec smiled at the bald baby, and nodded to jason. "Is there something you'd like to say little man?" "...I'm sowwy fer making tinkles on yer couch den being a bwat." jace said babishly, then looked confused for a second before realizing that alec must of had a baby talk curse on the pacifire as well. "Pffft...Bwhahahaha! Oh god! this totally makes up for the pissy couch. and as long as ya fix it up, yer forgiven." Jason said and then patted the bald babies head. "Fank ku! Dada, I's said sowwy, we go home now?" jace asked, his cock throbbing in his diapers even as he was mortified. "Hmmm I dunno..I think we owe Jason a evening of hot steamy sex still. well, those of us who can control ourselfs." alec smirked. "aye, I was promised a night in paradise. and ye be looking mighty fine." the scot said and smiled at alec. "But..but what 'bot me!?" jace mewed and whined. "..do you have any toys or something the baby can play with while we fuck?" alec asked.

And so the night where Jace was gonna show that he could be a mature young man and not a little diaper baby ended with him sitting on the living room floor of the man he had intended to top, dressed like a toddler and making tinkles and poo's poo's in his diapers while playing with action figures..all while forced to listen to his daddy and new daddy moan and cry out as they fucked hard in the master bedroom.

The end

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dragonrajafanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Dragon Dancer Chapter 19: Welcome to Cassell Pt 2

A photo of a bronze tablet appeared on the large screen TVs set up in the garden courtyard. I immediately recognized it as the one in the photo back at the mysterious lab where they were experimenting on people. After I’d read it, I heard the dragon whispers.

Part of the tablet was blacked out.

“Complete the sentence! 20 seconds!” Anjou was positively gleeful as the students shouted with dismay.

Previous Chapter

Go back to the Beginning

I’d been given a new phone from the pile of gifts I’d received. I hadn’t told anyone my new number but it rang anyway.

“H...hello?”

“This is EVA. Do you have an answer for the quiz?”

I glanced up at the screen.

“10 more seconds!” Anjou crowed.

EVA continued. “It’s multiple choice. Here are the possible answers.”

She sent a text to me. Everyone else was doing the same thing. I already knew the answer so I punched in what I remembered.

On the big screen, a large two appeared. “We have 2 correct answers!”

The 2 turned to a 3, then a 4....

I swallowed hard.

“5 seconds!”

The number didn’t budge any further. People were moaning in despair. The time ran out on the clock and the photos of the correct responders popped up.

Johann Chu, Caesar Gattuso, Lu Mingfei….

And me. There was a large number one next to my face.

First place finisher.

When my photo popped up a loud gasp went up from the crowd.

“Oh hohoho! Our lovely new S-ranker Charlotte and Lu Mingfei were the first with the two correct answers! Lu! It appears you have a new challenger!” He was laughing so hard. But I just wanted him to drop dead.

He lifted his cigar in the air. “Let’s make it more interesting!”

He stood in a sudden beam of spotlights. “Hidden on campus is a special key in a treasure chest. But there are also false chests that contain traps! Triggering the traps will remove you from the game by spraying you with the alchemy sleep potion. So please be careful! The one who gets the key in hand wins!”

Lancelot and Susie were on the phone immediately. Johann rushed out of the garden and out onto campus.

“FOR CAESAR! FOR THE GATTUSOS!”

The fancy party had devolved into chaos. Nono didn’t move, her arms were crossed, glaring at Caesar who had settled onto his phone, no doubt coordinating his club members to search for the missing key.

How could he do this? All this for a club? What about me? What about my feelings?

I ran away, trying to get as far away as I could. I heard Nono calling for me but I ignored her. There’s no way she’d be able to catch up with me in the heels she was wearing. “Ielia! We have to find that key!”

My other self swirled out from my necklace and nodded. We took two separate routes around the central fountain with the dragon hologram menacing us as we raced past. I spotted a chest. It was out in the open. It seemed too easy.

That didn’t stop one young man. “No! The chest is mine! For Gattuso!”

I backed away as he leaped upon it. A crimson flood suddenly gushed from his chest and he lay limp on the ground. Horrified, I backed away. “Oh no…”

Did he just sacrifice himself? The sight of it took me back to Japan, the sword of Chisei Gen piercing his victim’s neck, the sword of Ruri Kazama spreading the puddle of blood on the hardwood floor. I began to shake uncontrollably.

I was going to die. I was going to die here.

Ielia returned, gesturing frantically. She’d found the chest! I rushed away down the path and was halted by a large crowd.

I ducked around them to hide behind a tree. The chest was sitting on a bench and in front of the bench stood Johann Chu, sword drawn and pointed toward the people surrounding him. His golden eyes were glowing in the dark, that intimidating aura was back. No one took a step forward until one person separated himself from the crowd.

Lu Mingfei.

Johann’s determination wavered but he turned his sword toward Lu. “Don’t.”

“I don’t plan to.” Lu said. “I said I forgave you… and I meant it. There’s one more challenge after this. If you wanna win, you have to give me that key.”

Johann waited a few more seconds before lowering his sword and stepping aside.

Lu walked up to the chest and opened it, picking up the key. He then leaned over to Johann and whispered something in his ear. Johann nodded and walked away.

“What is this? Lionheart surrendered to Mingfei! Who is this guy? How is this possible!” The crowd was in an uproar.

“Charlotte wins the first round! Lu won the second round!” Anjou’s voice boomed over the school’s PA system. “There’s one more challenge! There’s a special lock box next to the statue of Anjou! If Mingfei or Charlotte guess correctly then they’re our winner!”

The crowd hurried over to continue the game. I ran over to Lu.

“Here,” he said, handing the key to me. “This will make you the winner of the second round. It doesn’t matter if Johann gets to the password. You’ll have won two out of three!”

He was helping me. My intense relief flooded my eyes. “There was a guy who bled to death on a chest!” I sobbed.

“It’s not blood. It’s just that alchemy stuff.” Lu grabbed my shoulders. “It looks gruesome, but it’s okay.”

“Why would they make it look like blood!” I squeaked, sobbing.

“Because they’re insane! Everyone here is crazy!” Lu hissed. “Anyway. You don’t have to worry about being forced to do something you don’t want to. Johann would have gladly taken on the whole crowd to keep them from getting it. But I figured this would be easier.”

Anjou’s voice came over the loudspeakers. “The lock box is opened! Johann Chu guessed the password on the first try! We’ll need another challenge to break the impasse!”

Lu sighed loudly. “No you don’t! Because I conceded to Charlotte! Charlotte has the key! So she wins two!” He took a deep breath. “You hear me! Charlotte wins Star of Cassell!”

“What a turn of events! Lu Mingfei has conceded to the new S-ranker! She has the key in her possession!”

Lu smiled and gave me a thumbs up.

“Thank you… Lu Mingfei.” I whispered, holding the key to myself.

“Don’t say it like that… this … doesn’t make up for not being able to help you before.” He hung his head.

“I’m not asking for that anyway.”

Anjou announced over the loudspeaker. “Everyone meet me at the statue to be awarded your prizes!”

“Come on… S-ranker.”

I followed him to the statue where Johann Chu and Anjou and Caesar were all waiting. “My dear, once again, your performance has impressed me.”

“Thank you principal,” I said, still clutching the key to myself. “Do I get to keep this?”

“Of course.” He said. “The key is just a maguffin.” He let out a series of rolling chuckles.

“And. This is for you.” Caesar held out a large star shaped medallion on a ribbon. I ducked and let him place it around my neck. “Three months. Your wish is our command.” He gestured broadly to the crowd standing around.

“What a silly rule. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not interested in joining a club.” I said. “But there is something I do need…”

I had no confidence that the people in this school would leave me alone. Fingel was right. He was so right. If they were willing to throw themselves onto a box of poison, then what else were they capable of? The minute the three months was up, this would start all over again.

I turned to Johann Chu, my face growing hot. “I’m tired of people who have no idea who I am, trying to get me on their side as some sort of prize. When ordinarily, they wouldn’t want to sit next to me on the bus.”

More gasping from the crowd. I could feel my tears coming, rolling down my cheeks. I inhaled sharply, my hands balling into fists.

“Sorry. It’s just… I’ve been dealing with this back-handed, ulterior motive stuff for way too long and I don’t want to deal with it any more!” My voice and body trembled with anger.

Johann stared at me. “I…”

I looked up at him. “Johann Chu, you’re one of the few people who ever cared about me and who I was. And between you and Lu, you’re the only one who can keep these people away from me.”

“Even if it’s only because I have this thing…” I stammered, signalling to the medallion. “Please. Be my boyfriend.” I covered my eyes with my arm, sobbing into it. I was standing there, crying in front of everyone but I couldn’t help it.

I felt his hand on my arm. His soft voice murmured. “Alright.”

I lowered it and nodded. I heard someone behind me ask, “Did you get it?”

“I got the whole thing!”

“Let’s… go somewhere and talk.” Johann took my hand to lead me away.

Next Chapter

#Johann Chu #Anjou #Caesar Gattuso #lu mingfei #luminous

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pftones3482 · 5 years ago

Text

I Think I Love You

Commission for @kriss-the-writing-nerd

Have all my commissions this week ended in wedding scenes? Yes. Do I care? No. Am I a sap at heart? Debatable. Under a cut for length. Enjoy!

“I got you a present.”

Keith blinked rapidly, moving his tired eyes away from the paperwork he was going over and looking up at Lance. He was shifting from foot to foot in Keith’s doorway, holding a box in his hands so delicately that, were it not Lance, Keith might have thought it was a bomb.

He was wearing pajamas, sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. The marks on his cheeks were glowing very faintly. In the light it might not have been noticeable, but it was late, so they were sparkling. It was a precious sight, one that made Keith’s heart flutter, but he forced his attention back to Lance and set down his reports from his mother.

“Why?”

Lance frowned, his hands dropping a little. “Well it…you and Hunk were off-world for your birthdays. I already gave Hunk his present, so I…I mean, it’s not really anything amazing, I made it, I just thought-”

“You didn’t have to do anything for that,” Keith said, soft. His lips parted and he glanced down at the box. His cheeks warmed a little. Obviously it wasn’t something special; he’d gotten Hunk a gift too, it wasn’t a Keith exclusive thing, but it didn’t stop the affection from rising in Keith’s chest nonetheless.

Lance stepped inside fully now, walking over to Keith’s bed and sitting gingerly on the edge like he was afraid Keith might kick him out. “Yes I did,” he snorted, pressing the box into Keith’s hands unceremoniously. “Like I said, it’s…nit’s nothing special. But I thought you might like it.”

Curious now, Keith untied the (red) ribbon from the package and set it on top of the reports. The flaps opened easily enough, and inside, nestled in (black) tissue paper, was a mason jar full of bright red jam. A piece of twine was wrapped around it, and dangling from the twine was a tiny wooden knife that was shaped suspiciously like Keith’s blade.

He pulled the jar out carefully, eyeing the label – strawberry rhubarb – and then fingering the knife, about the size of a butter knife. “You…made this?”

Lance’s cheeks were pink, his marks a little brighter. “Um…yeah? We make a lot of stuff o-on the farm, and I’m pretty good at jam, so I-”

“No, no,” Keith breathed. He looked up, eyes wide. “I mean, yes, that’s amazing, I haven’t had strawberries in forever and I’m sure the jam is…is amazing. I meant the knife.”

Lance’s tongue peeked out quickly as he licked his lips, so fast Keith barely caught it. It made his heart hammer. “Um…yeah. I uh…it’s something I picked up in my spare time. After everything. Woodworking is…relaxing. You can use it too, it’s meant to spread the jam.”

“It looks like mine.”

Lance’s smile was crooked, the glint in his eyes mischievous. “I know. Krolia helped me perfect it.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “She was in on it? Dammit, Mom.”

Lance laughed and stood, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands and nodding at the door. “I should uh…I should let you get back to your reports,” he said, eyes flickering to the paperwork on the bed. “Night, Keith.”

Keith realized with a start that Lance was already stepping out the door. “Lance!” he piped, a little too loud. If he hadn’t had any remaining dignity, he might have slapped his hand over his mouth. Lance turned back, eyebrows lifted, and Keith sheepishly held up the jar. “Thank you.”

He poured as much sincerity as he could into the words and Lance’s shoulders drooped a little – whether in relief or disappointment, Keith wasn’t sure. “Of course.”

Lance shut the door softly as he walked out, leaving Keith with a jar of jam and a pounding heart.

“Surprise!”

Keith was lucky Lance wasn’t holding a knife. As it was, he whipped around, pinning the taller man to the wall in one swift move, arm pressed firmly against his throat and his other hand shoved against his cheek.

Dead silence, and then, slowly, Matt turned the living room light on. Keith held up his hands in slow surrender and Lance immediately dropped his stance, face shifting from pissed to surprised to sheepish. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Keith settled his hand on his throat, trying not to wince at the ache Lance had left. “Yeah, well…our fault.”

Lance finally turned around, his eyes widening and hands flying up to cover his mouth as he finally spotted the rest of the group, holding presents and cake. A “Congratulations!” banner dangled precariously from where Matt and Shiro had hung it over the dining room entrance. “What the quiznak?” he whispered.

Curtis’ smile was boyish, eyes twinkling as he slapped a manila envelope into Lance’s hands. “Lance Sanchez, you have been officially accepted to the Garrison as the new flight instructor for middle and high school students.”

Lance closed his hands around the folder in a daze, staring down at the envelope, at his name, and then back up at Shiro and Curtis. “I…I put in the application last week. Please don’t tell me you guys fast tracked it, I-”

Shiro set his hand firmly on Lance’s shoulder. “Of course not, Lance. But you’re an incredible pilot, you’ve flown in battle more than anyone outside of this room, and you’re great with kids. It was a no brainer. Iverson agreed.”

Curtis’ lips twitched. “He seemed peeved that he agreed.”

The group burst into laughter but Lance just stared down at the envelope, his lips parted in soft wonder. “Wow. Wow, I…wait, how long have you guys been planning this?” he demanded.

Pidge shrugged, finally setting down the cake Hunk had made her hold. “Just this afternoon. Shiro texted the rest of us after lunch, and Keith had pretty much all of this ready by the time we got here.”

Lance turned slowly to Keith, who was smiling sheepishly. “Weren’t you off world this week?”

Keith waved his hand in a so-so motion. “For a while. I was just on Mars, though, so I wasn’t far. Plus you leave your spare key in the same place all the time. It’s not hard to get in.”

“Yeah you really need a security upgrade,” Krolia agreed.

Lance looked back down at the envelope and Keith studied him, watched the way his fingers shook, how his throat bobbed. His teeth bit into his lip, smile starting to form, and then his whole body shuddered with a laugh. “Wow,” he croaked. “Um…um, when do I start?”

Shiro tilted his head in acknowledgement. “This fall, with the incoming class. It’ll give me and Iverson time to go over teaching regimens and planning with you before your first students. But hey, you’re basically famous. They’ll listen to you,” the man said, winking.

“Now come on, you guys,” Coran whined. “I’ve been smelling this quiznaking cake of Hunk’s all day, I would LIKE to eat it!”

Hunk whooped, scooped up the cake Pidge had abandoned, and led the group to the kitchen. Lance caught Keith’s sleeve as he passed, pulling him back. “You did all this…for me?” Lance whispered, searching Keith’s face carefully.

Keith forced himself not to react beyond a soft smile. Lance’s fingers burned through the fabric of his shirt. “Of course. You deserved it, you idiot. You put in so much work, and I – we all know how much you wanted this.”

Lance’s eyes flickered to where Shiro was handing Hunk a knife. “I feel like…I feel like I didn’t earn it,” he said, even softer.

Keith turned to block his vision of the others. Emotions be damned, he reached out and grabbed Lance’s hand by the fingers. He squeezed. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you,” he murmured, waiting until Lance looked at him again before speaking. “You helped save the planet, you lost people really close to you, you-”

“That happened to you guys, too,” Lance protested. He slid his hand away from Keith’s and pulled it to his chest, curling his free one over it. “I wasn’t the only one.”

Keith tilted his head. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It did happen to us. But we all have what we want.”

He laughed, glancing back at the dining room, where Pidge was now arguing with Hunk about whatever piece of cake she was getting. “Pidge got her family back and is working intergalactically with some of the smartest beings we’ve ever met. Hunk is a galaxies wide famous chef and diplomat. Shiro and Curtis are married and travelling the world helping at risk LGBT kids and also teaching in their spare time. Coran got his home planet back and is happy with Iverson – as totally weird as I find that. You absolutely deserve this.”

“What about you?”

Keith started, looking back at Lance in surprise. He was staring at him curiously, shaggy hair hanging in his eyes. “What?”

He shrugged. “What about you? You named everyone else. What about you? Did you get what you wanted?”

His eyes swam with the depths of the oceans, glinted with the reaches of the stars. His skin was warm, this close, and being this near him, being here, ached. Ached beyond words. Keith felt his mouth go dry and his heart race. He looked back to the dining room. Shiro and Krolia were speaking now, soft, watching him worriedly. He gave them a tentative smile before turning back. “I uh…yeah. Yeah. I got my mom. I have Shiro. I…”

He trailed off, fumbling for the words. Refused to let the wrong ones slip from his lips. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose him. “I have you guys,” he finally settled on, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I got…a family I never had. Friends I never had. I work with an amazing group of aliens. I…yeah.”

His stomach rolled as Lance’s head tilted in a miniscule way. “Friends, hmm?” he said.

And he was smiling, but there was something there, something Keith couldn’t place even while he nodded. “Yeah. You guys are pretty okay, most of the time,” he tried to tease.

Lance’s lips whitened as he pressed them together, nodding. “Okay,” he hummed. “Thanks, Keith.”

He brushed past him, and Keith was left feeling like he’d messed everything up.

“You okay?”

Keith looked up as Pidge sat down next to him, her hands fidgeting with a piece of tech that Keith was sure he couldn’t even begin to understand. He hummed and looked back out over the Altean juniberry fields, watching as Hunk and Lance chased Lance’s niece and nephew through the flowers. It was their first visit to Altea, Christmas 4 years after the war, and they had asked Keith to join them on their trip.

He’d declined, preferring to watch from a distance. Being around Lance…hurt, sometimes. Especially on Altea. Especially on the holidays.

“You got it bad, huh?”

Keith choked on air, looking sideways at Pidge through the fringe of hair in his eyes. Her smile was sympathetic but her eyes glimmered with mirth. “What?” he managed.

Pidge shrugged, setting her tech aside and crossing her legs under her. Her green sweater looked ridiculously comfortable. “Come on, I’m ace, not blind,” she said with a roll of her eyes. A pause, and then she tapped her glasses frames. “Though I guess you could argue that point. You’re crushing so hard on Lance it’s kind of disgusting.”

Keith’s gut rolled and he looked down, fingers tightening on each other. He hadn’t told anyone but Shiro about his crush, though he knew that Krolia had seen some of the flashbacks of him crushing on the space whale. She’d never brought it up, and Shiro had stopped asking unless Keith spoke first. It was somewhat uncomfortable, hearing it from someone else. Like he was creepy and just…just wrong.

“Hey.”

He swallowed and let his gaze flicker back to Pidge, who was watching him with open concern. She scooted closer, bumping their knees and leaning on him. He sighed and edged his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his body and pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

Keith’s heart lurched in his chest as he watched Lance tackle Nadia and hold her down, tickling her sides until she shrieked. His smile was wide. “Yeah.”

His breathing stuttered and Pidge lifted her hand, twining their fingers together. “So talk. To him.”

Keith shook his head once, his cheek scratching against Pidge’s scruffy hair. “I don’t…I don’t want to ruin what we have. I’d rather…”

He sighed and dropped his forehead against Pidge’s hair. She hummed, the sound vibrating her whole body, and tightened her grip on his hand. “You’d rather keep what you have and hurt yourself than lose him all together. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Pidge nodded and then twisted, climbing into his lap. She was much bigger now than she had been during Voltron times, but she still fit comfortably against Keith’s chest, lanky arms curling around his torso and nose tucked against his neck. “Talk to him,” she said again, softer. “I promise you it’ll be okay.”

Keith hugged her back, feeling like his entire heart was going to be ripped from his chest. “You can’t possibly know that,” he said, still tracking Lance and Hunk’s escapades through the flower fields.

“I can. I’m a genius, remember?”

At Keith’s scoff, she pulled back from their hug, looking up at Keith with a smile. “Hey. Man, I’m like, the least sappy person I know aside from maybe you. But you’ve been so gooey the last couple months it’s driving me nuts. He totally likes you, you’re blind not to see it.”

She tapped her glasses again. “And I’m blind. I’d know.”

Keith snorted and shifted his legs until Pidge’s back was against his chest, his arms settled loosely over her hips and his chin on her head. She fiddled with the cuffs of his red Christmas sweater Hunk had gotten him. “I won’t push you,” she said, her voice lost to the wind. “But think about it, okay?”

“You didn’t hang mistletoe up in the house, did you?” he asked, a warning tone in his voice. “I know you were helping Coran decorate.”

“Oh we totally did,” Pidge confirmed, laughter in her words. “But it’s mostly just plastered around Shiro and Curtis’ room. You didn’t answer me.”

Keith fell silent, tightening his grip on her and sighing. “I…I’ll think about it,” he finally agreed.

Pidge leaned back against him, warm and smelling like fire and cinnamon. “Thanks,” Keith mumbled after a moment. “For not…”

“I’d never,” and her voice was the most serious he’d heard it in a long time. “Never. That’s for you. When you’re ready.”

Down in the field, Lance looked up, face lighting up when he saw the two of them cuddling on the hillside. He lifted his hand and waved like a maniac. Pidge snickered and waved back, elbowing Keith until he lifted a tentative hand too. “You’re in love with such a dork, you know that?”

His smile came unbidden. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Lance found Keith on the roof of the family barn, watching the stars as if he hadn’t spent the last six – or 8, depending on how you looked at it – years flying through them. He climbed the trellis up, getting a glance at his approach, and sank down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees. For a while they sat in silence, listening the wind coil around them and the crickets chirping in the distance.

“You’re going soon, then?”

Keith had been on planet for the last several weeks, since Easter, and all Lance knew was that he wasn’t staying at the farm forever. Which…part of him kind of wanted him to, even though he knew that Keith was doing important missionary work on other planets.

“Mm-hmm.”

Lance hesitated. When it came to Keith, he was at a loss. Hunk usually needed cuddling and hugs and long talks to work out his problems. Pidge used the rubber duck solution for scientific problems and quiet cuddling for emotional ones. Allura had been a mixture.

But Keith…was a mystery. Lance knew he openly talked about his feelings with Shiro and sometimes Pidge or Krolia, but never him. It stung, in a way. But it didn’t mean he was going to stop trying.

“Are you okay?”

Keith drew his knees closer to his mouth. Lance stayed quiet, knowing that sometimes pestering didn’t help people talk. He kept his eyes off him, too, watching only from his peripheral. Keith opened his mouth once, twice, closed it again and kept it shut. After a long, agonizing few minutes, he finally spoke.

“Do you ever feel…” Keith faltered, fingers physically opening and closing to find the word. “Like you’re not…I don’t know, in the right place?”

Lance tilted his head, leaning it on his knees. “Mentally or physically?”

Keith kept his eyes turned to the sky. “Maybe both?”

“Mm, yeah, sometimes. I think everyone does. Do you…feel that way?” he asked, trying not to pry too deep.

Keith’s lips pursed and Lance found himself tracing the shape of them with his eyes while he waited. “Kind of,” Keith said, licking his lips. “I…I love what I do. I love the people we help. But lately I’ve…”

He trailed off, and with a tug on his heart, Lance realized he was crying. He sat upright, eyes wide and mouth falling a little, but forced himself not to move. “You?”

Keith’s chin quivered. “I feel like…” His voice cracked. “I guess I’m homesick. But I don’t…I don’t even know what to call home. If it exists.”

His whole body shook and it took everything in Lance’s willpower to not scoot over and hug him until he couldn’t breathe. “My mom is…she’s so important to me. And I love her. And I feel at home with her. But it’s not…I lied. To you.”

Lance’s heart skipped. “What?”

“Last year, when you got the job,” Keith whimpered, pressing his hands to his face, and everything be damned, Lance scooted closer. “I told you…I told you I had what I wanted. I lied. I don’t know what I want, I just know that I want-”

He cut himself off, wary, eyed Lance like he was afraid he would laugh. His cheeks were red, Lance assumed from crying. “I want more,” he croaked out, voice wavering.

Lance let himself move in, wrapped Keith in the tightest hug he could muster. “That’s okay,” he whispered, carding his fingers through his hair as Keith clung to him. He swallowed, shutting his eyes. “You don’t have to know. It’s okay.”

“Please don’t leave,” Keith pleaded, his grip tight on Lance’s shoulders. “Please.”

Lance’s heart lurched and if he could have physically held Keith closer, he would have. “I won’t. Quiznak, of course I won’t, dude. You’re- you always have a home here. I promise.”

Holding Keith, listening to his shaking sobs and watching him break into pieces, Lance realized with a clarity he hadn’t had in a long time that at some point during the last five years, he’d fallen head over heels for the original red paladin.

“I think I love you. I think…I think I love you. I love you. I think-”

“Lance! Come on, ten minutes until the march!”

Lance huffed and pressed his hands against the wall on either side of the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, slicked back hair, dark blue tie and black suit, a shockingly pretty orange rose pinned to his lapel. “Yup. Yup, I’m coming Hunk.”

The door opened behind him and Lance met Hunk’s eye in the mirror. Matching suit, though with a yellow tie, hair pulled back into a ponytail. He eyed him, frowning. “You okay dude?”

Lance rubbed a hand over his jaw, pushing away from the wall. “I don’t know. I want…I don’t know.”

Hunk shut the door behind him slowly, leaning against it and studying Lance. “It’s not the wedding, is it?”

Lance shook his head. “No, but you’re right, we have to get out there for the march. I can deal with it later. This isn’t the place.”

“For what?”

Hunk moved aside as Lance grabbed the doorknob. He didn’t turn it though, just held it. Pondering. “I want to tell him,” he said quietly.

Hunk was silent for a second. “Oh. Oh my god, dude, yes!”

“But I don’t…I don’t know how. And I shouldn’t…I really shouldn’t do it here. Not at a wedding, I mean, that seems super selfish, right, that’s selfish? That’s totally selfish, I couldn’t do that to Coran, I-”

“Bro,” Hunk chuckled, gripping his shoulders gently. “No, it’s not. I mean, okay maybe if you do it during the ceremony or make a big deal out of it, but you’re not gonna do that. It’ll be fine. I’ll be here the whole time, so will Pidge, and Shiro, everyone. You got this.”

Shay popped her head in the room, lifting an eyebrow. “If you two are done, you are two of the main four stars of this show, and we would LOVE for you to be out there.”

“Sarcastic much, babe?”

“It seems to be the easiest way to get humans to actually do things.”

“Touché.”

Lance wasn’t sure how Alteans did weddings, but Coran’s vows were LONG as HELL. And then Iverson’s were just as long, and weirdly sappy (the man had grown on Lance a lot since his original Garrison days, but he was still a scary dude when he needed to be, so this was just a whole change of pace). The reception afterwards was lovely. Lance ate, avoided Keith, danced some more, drank way too much, and towards the end of the night downed his last glass of wine and stumbled outside.

“You’re not driving, are you?”

He turned to find Keith sitting there, red tie loose around his neck and jacket crumpled next to him. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which Lance found unfairly hot. “Because I can drive you home, if you need.”

Lance shook his head, stumbling and sitting next to Keith with minimal falling. “No. No, I’m not…no driving. I’m not…I’m not stupid. I mean I am but like…not like that.”

Keith’s lips twitched in amusement. The air around them was cold, and it was helping to dull the alcohol in Lance’s system, easing the slight throbbing in his head. “You okay?” he asked. He was warm as hell.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Keith assured him. “A lot of people. I was getting overstimulated.”

Lance frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. “I can go.”

“No,” Keith said, quick. He flushed at Lance’s curious gaze and shrugged, glancing away. “You’re fine. It’s not bad when it’s someone I…I mean…”

“I think I love you.”

Lance’s eyebrows furrowed as Keith whipped his head around, mouth gaping like a fish, until his words caught up with his brain. He clapped a hand over his mouth, swallowing. “S-Sorry, sorry, shit, that’s not-”

“Lance.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, hand still on his face. The world felt like it was spinning around him, suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe. Keith’s voice was gentle when he spoke. “Lance, are you just that drunk? Or-?”

The second time was easier. “I love you,” Lance breathed, letting his hands fall into his lap and his eyes open. He stared at the pavement, his mouth dry. “I wanted to tell you…for a while. But I…it was never the right time.”

A pause. “How long?” Keith asked, soft.

Lance licked his lips. “Thinking back on it? Since I almost got sucked out into space through the air lock. That’s…I mean, that’s when it started. It didn’t really hit me until a couple months ago.”

Silence. Lance shut his eyes again. “I’m sorry, I made it weird, I-”

“You didn’t make anything weird, Lance,” Keith whispered, and his voice was closer now. Lance cracked an eye open to see Keith facing him, a knee dragged up under him on the bench. His hands settled on Lance’s leg. “You have…no idea how long I’ve loved you.”

A breath that Lance didn’t know he’d been holding shuddered out of him and he surged forwards, hand sliding up Keith’s jaw and tangling in his hair, dragging his lips against his and trying to remember how to breathe through his nose as they kissed.

Keith’s fingers closed around Lance’s tie, tugging him closer, until he was practically sitting in Keith’s lap on the tiny bench. He gasped into his mouth, pulling back, and Lance blinked twice, dragging a thumb over Keith’s skin to swipe at a tear. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, anxiety settling in his gut.

Keith huffed a laugh, letting his forehead fall to Lance’s shoulder, hands moving to cradle him in a hug. “I’ve just wanted this for so long. It doesn’t feel like…like it’s real.”

Lance reached back and tangled their fingers together, pulling Keith’s right hand up to his chest and settling it over his pounding heart. “It’s real. I promise you, I’m real. This is real.”

He pressed a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Keith snorted. “Me too.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

#klance #my writing #klance fanfiction #voltron #writing commissions #vld #lance #keith #hunk #pidge #shiro #coran #im all in on the coriverson ship now beep beep motherfuckers #lol thank you for commissioning me again fam i love your prompts

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you-andthebottlemen · 5 years ago

Text

59 - Original: Happy Birthday Van!

A little gift from me to you to celebrate our Boy’s 27th birthday!!!

***************************************************************************************

Your desk was littered with glitter, paper scraps, and whatever else you’d pulled from your craft drawers. Your hands were covered in dried glue and you were sure that it’d take weeks to get the glitter out of your clothes, hair and carpet. That didn’t matter though as you were staring down at your freshly made card for Van. He would be arriving back home on his birthday and it was the first you’d spent together in two years.

Pen in hand, you thought long and hard about what to write. How on Earth could you capture exactly how you felt about him in a few short lines? It was the same dilemma you faced every year. You wondered if this was how he felt when he tried to write songs. How do you condense years and years’ worth of love for someone into one little card?

Van's presents where simple, some new shirts because you knew he'd never go and buy them on his own and a bottle of his favourite aftershave. You also knew better than to go over the top, as much as you wanted to. Van liked his birthday to be an intimate affair. Besides, it was coinciding with his arriving home from tour; he'd be exhausted and needy.

You lay the presents out on the dining table, wrapped in silver paper. The handmade card, your pride and joy, was balanced on the top.

Falling asleep that night was difficult. Your heart was racing with anticipation over seeing your beautiful birthday boy again tomorrow. All you could think about was how good it would be to have the empty space beside you, filled by Van’s body again. You only managed to force yourself to sleep by remembering that if you slept, tomorrow would come sooner.

You weren't sure what time Van would be back, but you took the day off work and spent the morning making a birthday cake while keeping an ear out for the door. Baking, cooking in general, wasn't your area of expertise. But Van would appreciate the effort anyway. Simple and heartfelt was his thing.

As the small, wonky cake with the pink buttery icing was cooling down, you heard the familiar click of keys turning in the door. Your heart stopped for a second before speeding up; you felt like a kid on Christmas.

You raced to the front door, heart pounding. The second Van saw you he dropped his bags to the ground and held his arms open wide. You collided into his body with such force that he had to take a step backwards as to not fall over. His long arms wrapped around you tightly and you both held each other in silence for a few moments. Van nuzzled into your hair, breathing you in.

"Happy birthday baby," you smiled up at him, giddy with love and happiness.

His hair looked flat and greasy from both touring and the plane travel, but that didn’t matter. Seeing him again for the first time in a while just reminded you how of how attractive he was; photos never did Van justice. You let your hands slip underneath his suede jacket and run up and down his back, over the navy striped long sleeve he wore religiously these days.

"Thanks, love."

Van’s lips curled at the corners and he gave you a small and weary smile. He looked tired from the travelling and relieved to be back in your arms. You both leaned in for a kiss. It was long and drawn out; you were both taking time to get to used to each other again after months apart.

Van held your face in his hands and stared at you both as if he was seeing it for the first time and is if he were trying to remember every detail ready for the next time he had to leave. You couldn’t contain your smile. You remembered how in the earlier days of your relationship it wouldn’t have been abnormal if you both stripped each other naked in the hallway the second he walked through the door.

“Smells nice in here babe,” Van commented suddenly, sticking his head up and sniffing a little.

“Oh. Thanks, yeah got something for you, birthday boy.”

You led Van into the kitchen and dining area of your little place. You leant against the counter and looked down at the cake.

“It’s not perfect but-“

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Van interrupted.

Before you could respond, Van lifted you off your feet bridal style. You giggled and clung to his neck, smiling into his skin. His gingery stubble was grown longer than he usually liked it though he was probably just too lazy to shave before coming home.

“I need to give you your presents! Go back!”

“Shower first. And you didn’t have to get me anything y/n, you’re enough of a gift as is. Stick a ribbon on your bum and I’m happy.”

“Oh stop it,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

You traced your finger along the delicate line of the golden chain that hung around his neck, hidden behind the collar of his shirt.

Van plopped you down on the bed before starting to undress. You brought your knees to your chest and just watched him, in complete awe and happy he was in the same room as you again.

“Join me?” Van asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded and let him pull you to your feet. Van undid his belt and jeans, then reached to take your shirt off. He ran his hands slowly down your body, feeling every line and curve. His eyes followed his hands. It wasn’t necessarily sexual, just intimate and you liked that.

In the shower, Van caught you up on tour shenanigans while he let you shampoo his hair. You smiled and laughed so much your cheeks were starting to hurt. You’d gotten used to Van being pretty rubbish at phone calls and texting while he was away. It just meant you were always in store for a full debrief when he got back.

Van leaned his head back as you massaged his scalp, sighing with satisfaction and closing his eyes. He wore a little contented smile too. You could tell how much he missed this sort of attention and it made you realise how much you missed giving it. Though you liked how the other guys had picked up on Van’s hair/head thing. You’d seen clips of Van on stage and Bondy giving him little head scratches. God, you just loved them all so much.

Once Van felt well and truly clean and content, you took your warm and wet bodies back into the bedroom where one thing led to another.

After the first of what would probably be many instances of love making that day, Van lay on his back and you were cuddled into his side with your head resting on his arm, both breathing heavily. He drew circles on your shoulder with the hand that was wrapped around you, almost lulling you off to sleep. Then you remembered.

“Presents!”

Your eyes opened wide and you sat up.

“Mmm no come back,” Van whined.

He had his eyes shut and reached out for you but didn’t move his body, clearly feeling sleepy.

“Do you want birthday cake?” you asked, and his eyes opened.

“In bed?”

“Okay, stay there.”

You kissed Van quickly and then climbed out of bed. You felt shivers up your spine as you detached yourself from Van’s body heat, so you grabbed a bathrobe, despite Van’s little groan of protest. You glanced back at him and he was now laying on his side with his head propped up on one hand, looking at you with a pouty face and messy half wet hair.

As you waited for the kettle to boil, you cut two slices of cake.

“Don’t forget to call your parents!” you called to Van.

“Already spoke to ‘em in the taxi here!” he replied.

You smiled to yourself as you plated up the cake and wondered when you’d see Mary and Bernie again, you loved them both dearly.

First you brought in two mugs of hot, steaming tea and placed them on the bedside tables. Van pulled himself up and sat against the headboard.

“I’ve missed the way you make a brew,” Van smiled. “Among other things.”

You ruffled his hair in response, and he gave you a cheeky look before reaching for the mug.

“Careful, it’s hot!”

“Like you babe,” Van winked.

You managed to balance Van’s presents as well as two plates each with a slice of cake, in your arms and hands. Van took the plates from you and set them down on the bed before quickly reaching down and grabbing his shirt off the floor with a slight shiver. You climbed in beside him and both sat cross legged.

Van tucked into the slice of cake, getting some pink frosting around his mouth.

“This is class y/n, thank you,” Van smiled as he finished off the cake.

“You’re welcome, there’s more in the kitchen if you want.”

You reached out and wiped the pink off Van’s top lip and then sucked your finger. Once you’d finished your own cake in between mindless chatter and kisses, you placed the silvery presents in Van’s lap. He looked down at them in amazement.

He went for the card first. You watched as he held it carefully in his hands and looked at the picture on the front; your attempt at a collage and glitter birthday cake.

“Did you make this?” he asked, sounding impressed.

You nodded and his jaw dropped a little.

“So fuckin’ talented,” he said under his breath.

“Like you can talk! Mr wrote three successful albums!”

Van rolled his eyes. Once he read the contents of the card, he placed it down and grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you hard. His lips were warm and soft and you’d missed kissing him with every ounce of your being.

“I fuckin’ love you. I’m so in love with ya’,” he gushed.

“I fucking love you too babe. Happy birthday,” you replied and ran a hand along his hairline, sweeping his fringe out of his eyes.

“But hey guess what,” you began, a stupid grin on your face. “I can’t believe you’re....no longer....26.”

Van looked at you with a deadpan and unimpressed expression, but you burst out laughing anyway.

“Should never have written that line...” he mumbled to himself.

Van opened the presents next, ripping the silver paper in a way that made your sentimental heart hurt a little bit; you were always one to keep nice paper to craft with later.

When Van saw the shirts, his eyes lit up. He pulled his top off over his head and immediately replaced it with one of the new button ups. You couldn’t help but chuckle. Only Van McCann.

“Whadya think?”

It was skew-whiff and poorly buttoned due to Van still being sat in bed but he held his arms out and waited for your assessment anyway. You’d chosen a blue shirt with a thin white stripe to it and a burgundy one, knowing both would bring out his eyes. He was wearing the blue stripe.

“So handsome, that one’s my favourite. Maybe you can wear it tonight?”

You reached out and fixed the collar.

“Tonight?”

“I thought we could get dumplings with Larry then go to the pub after?”

Van grinned at the idea.

“I want it to be just us for a while though, yeah? I’ve missed you.”

Van let his body fall into yours and rested his head on your shoulder with a sigh. One of his arms found its way around your waist, the other in your lap.

“Yeah, we can meet Larry late. I’ve missed you too,” you exhaled, feeling calm and content.

You moved the card, plates and presents off the bed and Van pulled you back beneath the sheets. You were enveloped in each other’s arms, legs intertwined and feet touching.

“You’re gonna get your new shirt all crinkly,” you whispered, tugging at the collar.

“Better take it off for me then?”

#van mccann #van mccann fanfiction #van mccann fan fiction #catfish #catb #Catfish and the Bottlemen

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fridays--child · 5 years ago

Text

Skin

Deacon helps Gene relive a past life on her birthday.

Prompt: Sole and Companion(s) take their first photo together.

Rating: 18+

Also on AO3

It had been a long time since Deacon had gone to a birthday party. Not some little shindig under the old church, shotgunning cheap swill before passing out in the catacombs. An actual party, with music, and dancing, and people dressed up to congratulate the guest of honour on another rotation around the sun. The excitable, rowdy crowd was already three sheets to the wind, bestowing both a blessing and a curse for Deacon as he tried to navigate, undetected, through them.

The Third Rail was in full swing, heavy smoke and jet haze filling the old subway, softening the near-fluorescent garlands hanging around the joint. With the stampeding crowd already three sheets to the wind, it was easy to camouflage. Deacon mingled, dodging and weaving towards old Whitechapel Charlie, keeping his face down in case anyone sought to recognise him. Galatea’s impressive social reach meant most of the room had met him under one disguise or another. Joe, the trader, seeking out Daisy to trade… stuff. Mike, the DC security guard, all brawn and no brain. Or Morgan, the sad old widower in the Memory Den, whacking off to the memories of his long dead wife. Ouch, that one was a little too.... method. It was awkward trying to keep track of personas.

Despite the ever present complication of being eternally undercover, it wasn’t a bad show out. Magnolia was serenading the crowd with bright little pre-war ditties, beckoning the crowd to move in time with the music and the swing of her hips. Leaning against the bar, Deacon watched as Hancock spun the birthday girl around, before hoisting her up onto his bony shoulder to the cheer of the crowd. From her heightened position, Galatea scanned the room, twinkling her fingers in a delighted wave which Deacon reciprocated. On the last blaring note, Hancock unceremoniously dumped her on her feet, and she slapped his hand from her waist, giggling as she threw her arms around his neck before making her way to the bar.

Deacon whistled as his favourite agent approached, motioning for her to twirl in her party dress. She obliged with a roll of her eyes, holding out her hands. Ta-fucking-da.

“Finally, a party you actually have an invite to.”

He laughed, motioning for Charlie. “Oof, icy. Whiskey?”

“Sunset Sarsaparilla please, Charlie.” Widening her eyes, she lowered her voice, drawling in mock shock. “I’m a teetotaler now Deaks. Was getting a little sloppy in my old age.”

“And just how old are you now, spinster? Should I call the nursing home?”

Rolling her eyes, Galatea cheered her drink at Charlie. “Practically geriatric. Twenty-five.” Deacon choked slightly on his own. “Give or take a few centuries.”

Jesus Christ, she was just a kid. Where was he at twenty-five? Fresh off the bigot train and trying to recreate himself, his first experience in shedding his skin. Shameful heat tainted Deacons cheeks. Galatea tapped on his arm, blissfully unaware, before jumping behind the bar’s counter.

“I have something for you.” Chipped nails push a box across the counter, badly wrapped in copies of the Boston Bugle. Deacon eyed it suspiciously, raising it to his ear with a slight rattle.

“Well jeez. I dunno birthday worked in ye olde times, but aren’t the guests supposed to give the birthday gal presents? Though,” he held out his hand in mock surrender, “totally not complaining if the roles were reversed.”

Galatea growled in the voice she usually saved for raiders, or the Diamond City security. “Just open it.”

Inside the box lay a leatherbound camera, small and square with a simple lightbulb attached to the top. Probably old, even before the bombs fell. A thin layer of grease and dirt clung to the crevices in the leather, accumulating over the centuries it had probably lay buried. Some of it clings to his fingers as he traced the words around the lens. Kodak Brownie Flash Six-20.

“Where in the Great Green Jewel did you find this?”

“Preston managed to find some of my old stuff buried in a bunker in Sanctuary. Piper brought a suitcase of it here.”

“Huh.”

He had lost his last one when the Switchboard went bust. How did she know? Deacon turned the camera over in his hands, flicking the shutter open, before holding it up and snapping a photo of the birthday girl. The flash blows a little too brightly. Galatea blinked rapidly, delicately wiping her watering eyes.

“Jesus Deak, not sure if my retinas are still intact. Remember, not everyone wears sunglasses constantly.”

He grinnned at her sheepishly. “My bad.” She waved away the apology.

“Still don’t know why you’re spoilin’ me, Galatea.”

Her small hands gripped his wrist, vice-like, as she pulled him closer to whisper in his ear.

“Because, for my birthday, you’re going to help me relive a past life. Deny it all you want, but I’m sure you probably have photos of me from when you were tailing me as Joe the trader, or whatever.” That familiar nervous frequency, sent hertzs of vibration from her fingers on his pulse. The same pulsing energy that radiated from his partner whenever someone suggested something equally stupid and dangerous. “Let’s get some I actually consent to, you voyeur perve. You might even like these more.”

Deacon was grateful for the glasses to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks, but his spatial awareness pricked up the eyes on the back of his neck. Galatea’s bronze eyes narrowed just past his shoulders, and she nudged her chin a fraction towards them. “Friends of yours?”

Deacon turned around, casually, as if to watch Magnolia as she took a sip of wine, the band launching into the opening bars of another song. “Brotherhood.” He muttered back to her. “Didn’t know they had legs outside of those metal spacesuits.”

The corner of Galatea’s dark lips twitched. “You should go.” She slipped him her keys, rusty on a Nuka-Girl keyring. “Third floor, remember? I’ll be there later.”

~~~

With most of the old warehouse-turned-apartments’ tenants either at The Third Rail, or passed out in the gutter around it, Deacon was able to make his way to Galatea’s apartment relatively unscathed. There was one guy, a synth he had helped liberate eighteen months ago, who eyed him off with hazy recognition. He pointed at him in greeting, feigned excitement as he quickened his pace. “Yo Steve, my man! I’m dyin’ for a piss, I’ll catcha back inside, yeah?” Before he answered, he had darted around the corner, pretending to pull at his jean zipper to take the backstreet.

Entering the apartment with keys was much easier than the first time he was there, recalling with a twinge of guilt breaking in through her third floor window. All part of the job, of course, scouting out the frozen woman fresh from the vault. He still hadn’t gotten the balls to ask her if she had noticed. He suspected she did.

Forty-five minutes later, Deacon had managed to get the kettle on, settling into the tatty arm chair when sharp heels clicked up the outside stairs. Galatea pushed once, twice, three times against the sticky door before getting it open and heading into the kitchen.

“Still up? Thanks for the tea.”

Back to her, Deacon held up a book. In Search of Lost Time. “You weren’t kidding about the Proust, huh?”

Galatea plopped a small tray of tea and stale Fancy Lads on the rickety coffee table, stretching out on the adjacent lounge. “Again, not everyone lies Deacon. Why would I fib about what books I own?”

Deacon wrinkled his nose at her. “Wasn’t he kinda anti-semitic? Kinda strange, I thought you were Jewish.”

“I guess, if I wanted to be.” She shrugged. “I’m half. Papa was a good Irish Catholic boy.”

“Which means…”

“Which means December was always very confusing.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Opening a pack of smokes, Deacon fumbled in his pockets for his lighter. “So.”

Galatea wriggled her eyebrows at him, reaching for the cigarette he'd just lit. “So…?”

“Why are you home so early? Gonna turn into a pumpkin now you’re all old?”

“Mhm, no.” Stretching her small body as long as she can, Galatea popped her heeled feet on the top of the couch, cracking the bones in her neck. Nearly upside down, she looked up at him through dark eyelashes. “It turns out parties aren’t as fun when you’re not off your tits.”

Taking another lungful of nicotine, she waved the cherry in his general direction.

“Did you like your present?”

Leaning forward, elbows on knees, Deacon pulled the camera from his back under the couch, before shaking it gently at her.

“‘Course, who doesn’t like presents?” The corners of his mouth twist as he peered at her through the viewfinder. She ran her hands down the front of her dress with a laugh.

“Are you going to take my photo before I lose my looks? I’ve already looked like this for nearly two hundred years longer than expected, it probably won’t last much longer.”

Shaking his head at her, he snapped a photo.

Gravity pulled at the hem of her dress, slipping down to hint at the tops of her stockings. Heading over to her, he borrowed the fabric of her skirt to clear the lens, letting the back of his hands brush against her thigh. Smirking, she leered up at him.

“Are you going to tell me I look nice?”

Deacon snorted back at her. “What, you fishing? You already know that, braggart.”

His fingers hit cool metal against her skin, hooking around a garter belt ribbon.

“Sheesh, you did dress up. What else have you got hiding under there?”

The heel of Galatea’s shoe pushed mean against his chest as she pushed him off her, and he captured her nylon covered legs through the frame. Moving him to sit on the couch, Galatea turned her back to him, unwrapping herself as she tugged on the zipper of her dress, sliding it slowly off her shoulders to reveal the sheer, high-necked blouse underneath. Her hands followed the trail of her dress as she pushed it down to her ankle with her legs kept straight, before kicking it to the side as the flash went off again. Deacon wolf whistled, slightly shaky with a laugh, reaching out to run his hands down the mesh and satin are pulled taut and clinging to her body, accentuating the dip of her waist. A strangled sound escaped his throat when he felt the boning underneath.

“Jesus, what’s all this for, baby? You’re more metal and plastic than a Gen 2.”

Rolling her eyes at him, she peaked over her shoulder.

“Structural integrity.”

Deacon’s freckled hand moved on its own, lower, following the straps of her garter belt up and under her little slip skirt. His breath nearly whistled as it hitched against her neck, feeling the heat radiating from her body.

“You’re full of surprises. No panties?”

She bit her cheek as he ghosted over the soft hair against her slightly wet folds.

“Didn’t want lines showing through the dress.”

The familiar feeling of control, of power, rushed through Deacon, and he gathered her wrists behind her back, moving her firmly until Galatea was bent over the couch. Slightly clumsy with one hand, he took a photo of her exposed to him. Dropping the camera to the couch, he shoved her skirt slip up around her ribs, smacking her ass harshly until she hissed at him. He took another fast shot, desperately wishing the flash would encapsulate the shape of his hand print. Still holding her wrists, Deacon discarded the camera, using his spare hand to palm at himself through the tightening denim of his jeans.

“Shit baby, you look like something outta a pre-war nudey mag. What was it called, uh… Dick’s Brazzers?”

Galatea barked her filthy laugh at him, wiggling beneath her held wrists.

“John Willie’s Bizarre, as if I haven’t seen the copies lying around HQ. Not that I ever was good enough to be featured.”

Her comment woke something equally aroused and confused within him, and he pulled her back to look at him.

“Wait - there’s photos of you, like this, out there?”

She shrugged, laughing at his expression.

“A girl’s got bills. It was fun and a quick way to make a buck.” Adding to his incredulous expression, “Men feel powerful thinking the women in the photos were vulnerable. We had the power of making them believe that.”

Shaking his head at her, brain still not processing the images she’d injected into his mind, he bit her shoulder playfully.

“I’m searching for them. Next time we’re in the Common.”

He ground against her, hand grabbing at her thigh. The other released her hands to gather the slick growing between them. Galatea smirked at him.

“What, between the super mutants and raiders? You’ll be dead before you read the Freedom Trail?”

“Worth it.”

She must’ve been able to feel how hard he is for her, how he’s always surprised how much she gets him going each time they get it on. He kissed up her pulse, hands guiding her to move against him as he alternated between dipping into her shallowly and running circles around her clit. Her raspy voice vibrated against his mouth.

“Never had a partner, want to get a photo with me?”

Deacon groaned against her neck, shaking his head against her dark hair.

“Galatea, you know that’s not a good idea. I’d have to get a face change after, there’s the whole bruising and recovery thing...”

She pushed her back against him, using a hand on his shoulder to seat him on the couch with a wicked smile.

“Who said anything about your face?”

Dropping to her knees, she pulled roughly at his jeans, tapping his hip impatiently until he lifte his hips enough to slide them down his thighs.

“Shouldn’t I be doing this to you, birthday girl.” He joked, slightly breathless.

She pulled a face at him, licking her dark lips until a slight shine appeared.

“Only you would make a comment when a girl is about to suck you off. Shut up and let me indulge.”

Galatea moved slowly, teasingly, as she always did. Putting more effort into her performance than he ever did into his disguises. Barely opening her mouth, she dragged her mouth up and down his shaft, the tip of her tongue tasting the precum he’s already spilt. Letting her breath tickle against the wet her mouth has left, she smirked up at him. He took another photo as she licks at his head, giving him a few shallow bobs of her head before taking him deep in her throat. Swearing, he tangled his hands in the curls of her hair, pricking himself on the pins holding it up. She continued working on him methodically, using her hands on the parts her mouth and throat can’t reach. She pulled away with a shuddering breath, wiping the makeup from her eyes to kiss the tiny, freckle sized B on his hip.

Deacon’s breath hitches as images flood his mind. He’s barely older than she is now, hopped up on beer and herb cigarettes, pissing himself laughing as his wife tattoos him with a needle and pen ink. It’s a wonder it didn’t get infected, spending those days drunk in love and cheap alcohol, ekeing out a humble farmer's life. If he forced himself to remember, he was pretty sure the night of the tattoo was also the night they decided to try for kids. To be stupid and optimistic enough to believe creating a human culmination of their love was the logical best choice for their life. A few months and a sea of spilled blood later, it was all that remained of them, of her. The only part of him that remained untouched, a dozen face changes later.

It unleashed something angry, untamed in him, and he wasn’t sure if he wants to fuck away the memory or lose himself in it. Knotting her hair in his fist, he reached under her armpit, pulling her roughly up against him before bending her back over the threadbare couch. Gripping the flesh of her heart-shaped ass, he pushed into Galatea roughly. She scrambled against him, nails scratching against his stomach through his thin shirt, as he snapped a photo of her stretched around him. He’s already so close, impossibly, balls pulling in tight as his stomach pulls in taught. It’s too soon to have made it good for her, her breathing still a steady rhythm, and he’s nearly apologetic as he pulls ekeingher by the neck to bite at her ear.

“Fuck baby, shit. I-ah- I’m going to cum.”

He pulls out a second too late, the first wave of his orgasm filling her before he paints her thighs with his cum. Sweating against her, he tugs her face against his in an exhausted, shaky kiss.

Galatea froze against him as his tongue pushed against the seam of her lips, her whole body flinching away from him as he panted against her lips. One of her hands blindly reaches back for him, shoving him away from her.

“Deacon, don’t.”

Stumbling back two steps, Deacon ran a tired hand over his face, two fingers putting pressure on the inner corner of his eyes. When he opened them again, Galatea was still braced against the couch. Looking over her shoulder at him, she tugged the hem of her slip down. Deacon let out an uneasy laugh.

“Woo, Galatea. Shit. You’re too good. Give me a second baby, to catch my breath. Then I’ll make it up to you.”

She stretched out her back, hands on her hips, as she shook her head at him.

“No, it’s okay.”

There was an unease between them, not uncommon but surprising. Tentatively, he reached out to her back.

“Gene, I- uh,” Shit. “You okay?”

She nodded, picking up her dress from the floor.

“How do you want me to…”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve uh, we’ve been drinking.”

Frowning, Deacon ran a hand down her back. His stomach dropped a few inches as she leaned away.

“I thought you said you weren’t drinking?”

Not looking at him, she pulled her shirt tighter against her neck.

“We’ve got an early morning. Des wanted us back at HQ by midday, right?”

Swallowing, he nods.

“And I’ll have to duck in to see Amari, now.” Heading towards the partition that separates her room from the living space, she dumps the dress into the cardboard box acting as a laundry hamper.

“You remember where the spare blankets are, right? It shouldn’t be too cold if you just want to sleep on the couch as is.”

He waved her comment away. “Yeah, sure.”

He watched as she threw her clothes over the partition, presumably to wrap herself up in the ratty yellow robe she wore whenever she was at home. He clears his throat, awkwardly.

“We good?”

She laughed dryly.

“Yeah, we’re fine Deak. Goodnight.”

“‘Kay. Happy birthday.”

She snorted, and he could nearly imagine the disgusted face she’d pull at him.

“Yeah, sure.”

------

Look, I've been staring at this for nearly a week and it's not getting any better haha. Please accept this humble offering so I can move onto more exciting projects.

Also, John Willie's Bizarre was an actual fetish magazine in the late 40's. There's some gorgeous photos and pictures from it floating around the internet if you're into that. The images he took of his wife, Holly Faram, are particularly stunning. He was also part of a fetish club in my small hometown in the 1920's, which is cool.

#Fallout 4 #FO4 #deacon x sole survivor #gene grady #deacon

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minstrophywife · 6 years ago

Text

The Year of You [March]

⇢Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Jungkook x Reader ⇢Genre: Highschool!AU, Slice of Life!AU, Teenage Romance!AU ↳[fluff fluff fluff] ⇢Word Count: 12,210 ⇢Chapter: 1/13 [march] ⇢Warnings: A slow burn (wow surprise) with a lot of cheesy tropes and scenarios from the fluffiest of animes and your typical corny romance books. Also the ages of OT7 are a little different and vague (but that’s just so they can all be in the same high school together, lol). I can’t help but love these tropes anyways.

⇢Masterlist

⇢Summary: Your parents announce your sudden move from Busan to Seoul, right before you begin your high school life. This could be the change you need- to learn about yourself, find new friends, and perhaps experience a little love along the way.

↳Chapter summary: You feel an immediate connection to the sleeping boy on the bus. Who is he? You must find out.

A/N: I wanted to get this done for Saturday, but holy shit guys, the comeback happened and.. yeah… writing didn’t happen. Lol. So it’s here on Friday instead. Also, can we just say that Tumblr sucks and I had to redo this entire post because it decided it wanted to delete everything that I had just done? I want to cry. If it is different from before I am so sorry.

MARCH

It’s the first day of school of your sophomore year and you are a bundle of nerves. These nerves aren’t the ones of anxiety or nervousness however- it’s more like you are buzzing with excitement. When your parents announced your departure from your hometown in Busan two weeks ago, they looked all nervous, anticipating your tears. What they did not expect however, was your enthusiastic response of, “When? I need to get packing don’t I?”

It took only a couple of days for you to collect all the things in your room and organize them into boxes, neatly signing your name on them with a sharpie. Your parents definitely gave you raised eyebrows with how helpful you were in packing up the rest of your family’s belongings too. On the last day in Busan, you took one glance over your childhood house- it feeling much more empty without your belongings making you not feel nostalgic, but more anxious to be leaving.

Arriving in Seoul, your Dad had to already attend to his new role in the company, leaving you and your mother to do most of the organizing in your new home. While not as spacious as your house in Busan, it certainly was more modern and chic. You don’t know how your dad managed to find a house with a small garden in the middle of metropolitan Seoul, either. It didn’t take long to make a house into a home- opening all the boxes of your belongings helped keep your mind busy and on task, filling out the last weeks of winter break before

You woke up a whole hour before your alarm went off, putting on your summer uniform for the first time. The school uniforms in Seoul are a lot cuter than the uniforms in Busan- instead of a boring navy blue, your school’s accent color uses a cute pastel pink and grey- the ribbon around your neck matching the plaid skirt and short-sleeved crisp and white summer uniform top.

You’re excited, because coming to Seoul from Busan means you can experience the big city. As great as Busan is (nothing beats the beach), Seoul is the nucleus to everything current.

You’ve already decided that you are going to gather your confidence and charm that comes with being an outsider from Busan in Seoul- you want to make new friends. You were a bit of a quiet person back in Busan, and when your parents mentioned the move to Seoul because of your dad’s promotion, you couldn’t help but feel excited for the chance to break out of your shell and start anew with a newfound surge of confidence. It’s finally a chance to break away from any previous stigma that has been hanging around you with your childhood hometown.

When you get on the bus you already notice a bunch of other students with your matching uniform, interspersed throughout men and women who are heading to work. You opt for an open seat near the front of the bus, sitting next to another girl who you bow to politely. She smiles back at you and continues to listen to her music. You’re grateful that she isn’t making it awkward. You look around the bus, and someone catches your eye. You only see the profile of his face, but it causes you to want to crane your neck. His headphones cover his ears atop a black beanie, clashing against his pale skin. You see his eyes are closed- probably sleeping, ignoring the morning rush on the bus. You also notice how he’s wearing the uniform of your school, the pattern of the pink untied tie draped over his shoulders a dead giveaway.

From that moment on you feel a strong connection to the sleeping boy- you decide that you must figure out who this boy was.

You sneak glances at him every chance you can get, trying to not look obvious. Are you blushing? Your face definitely feels hot. You blame it on the crowded bus. It doesn’t look like he’s waking up anytime soon however, so you continue to appreciate what you see in front of you. What stirs you from your rose-colored stupor is the harsh grinding halt of the bus, and the flurry of students standing up to push through to the exit. In your hurry to join them, your mysterious and handsome crush disappears- how he woke up and left before you you don’t understand- and you feel disappointment hang heavy in your chest.

You don’t have long to feel regret, because soon enough you are walking through the school entrance, trying to not look too obvious that you are a new student as you meld into the flow of students all rushing to the signboard to see which homeroom class they are going to be in for this year. Your eyes sweep over the students hovering by their perspective year, and notice you aren’t the only first year looking a bit tentative. You don’t want to be pushy, especially since you are new, and so you let others go in front of you, quietly analyzing what they do first. Eventually there is a small gap, and so you slide into place, starting to look at homeroom class 1A. Conveniently for you, you see your name on the sheet, backing away to politely let other students to get a chance to hunt down their name.

Since you are a transfer student, you have to go to the teacher’s offices in order to receive your student ID. It’s easy enough to find your homeroom teacher- Teacher Lee, A soft smile on his face when you approach his desk. Teacher Lee seems to be pretty calm, for the first day of the new school year- although he looks to be on the younger end of the spectrum, it seems as if he has been teaching for a while. “You must be Y/N.” he says, and you bow respectfully, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips too. He stands from his chair, grabbing a stack of printouts that you will inevitably see in a moment. On top of that stack is your student ID, which he hands to you immediately. “You are the only transfer student in1A this year, so we can go ahead and head to the classroom.” You follow him silently, gipping the straps of your backpack between your hands. “While most of the other students are from the same middle school, don’t worry. Transfer students always make things interesting and new to your classmates, so you will have friends in no time.” You nod your head in understanding, until. You realize that Teacher Lee is facing forwards. “Yes sir, I’m excited to be in Seoul.”

1A is the first classroom that appears when Teacher Lee and you round the corner of the staircase of the third floor- but he continues to pass the classroom, stepping into a side corridor. “Here is where the lockers for 1A are located, to the left. I believe your locker is here… ah, there it is.” He hands you the key to your locker. “Don’t worry about storing your things this morning- it’s only the first day and you have yet to receive all your textbooks.” You grip the key in your palm, and slide it into the front pocket of your backpack. You’ll need to buy something for your student ID and your locker key later- you’re really bad at leaving things behind and misplacing stuff in the silliest of places.

Retracing your steps, Teacher Lee approaches to the sliding door of classroom 1A- your new ‘home’ for the next year. Your hand naturally raises to the small name badge that rests above your heart. Perhaps you’re just feeling a tiny bit nervous now, standing in front of a whole classroom full of about 30 students. All staring at you. You don’t have much time to contemplate your growing anxieties- the door slides open to announce Teacher Lee’s (and your) arrival. The previous chatter of students quiet down, and there is a scurrying of students to get back to their designated seats. Teacher Lee clears his throat, and you feel many eyes on you- staring you down. You hold your head high though, staring right back. “Good morning Class1A, I am Teacher Lee, your homeroom teacher for your first year of high school. And this,” he motions toward you a polite hand, “is Y/N, a new student who arrived in Seoul not too long ago. Please briefly introduce yourself to your classmates.” He nods slightly, signaling for you to begin. You bow. “Hello, my name is Y/N. I moved here from Busan. I’m excited to share my first year of high school with you all, I am in your care.” You bow again, hearing some small clapping out of kindness. Teacher Lee smiles. “Thank you. I’m sure we will make Y/N feel right at home. Correct?” You hear a mixture of different affirmative responses. “Now Y/N, please make your way to your desk. It is located by the window.”

There is a pretty obvious empty desk, and you walk over, eyes glancing over at your desk neighbor. You make eye contact, and he smiles brightly back at you, looking genuinely happy that the transfer student is his neighbor for the rest of the year. His smile reaches his eyes, pupils disappearing behind eyelids. You return the smile in earnest, settling comfortably in your chair. Your neighbor turns to you to whisper and enthusiastically point at himself- “Park. Ji. Min.” You’re glad your desk neighbor is so friendly, and you give him a small wave in return.

The first half of classes before lunch goes by swiftly, as classes consist of textbook handouts and meeting the teachers of each subject. You feel restless in your seat, and your stomach sure seems to match your energy, as a small growl of protest escapes. Finally the afternoon bell chimes, and students are already pushing back chairs to hang out with friends. Your desk neighbor, Park Jimin, turns in his chair to face you, and he’s about to open his mouth, before two you see two pairs of arms pulling hurriedly at his side. It’s an easy enough distraction, and so he gives you a little apologetic wave before being dragged along with two other boys. There is no point dawdling- you’re hungry. You didn’t prepare your own lunch today because you were focused on getting ready for the first day, so you stand up yourself, and begin to exit out of the classroom, trying to follow the flow of traffic to what you would assume is the direction to the cafeteria.

As you are walking along, there is a tap tap tap on your shoulder, and when you turn towards said tapping, you are met with a bright eyed face of a girl with cute bangs and shoulder-length hair. Beside her, another taller girl with long, straight black hair smiles at you- and she removes her hand from her skirt pocket. “Y/N, right?” The girl with bangs circles your elbows with yours. “We’ll show you to the cafeteria! Just follow Soobin and I.” You nod, a sigh of relief you didn’t know you had held escapes your lips. “I’m Soobin, nice to meet you.” You smile at her, and she returns the gesture. She seems level headed- and interesting contrast to the bright energy that the other girl exudes. You wonder how they became friends. “I’m Mina! The moment I saw you I knew I had to be your friend.” Your head turns to Mina, and you feel slightly embarrassed. “Oh really? I don’t think I’m all too special. I am thankful though that you came to approach me first!”

Soobin shrugs. “I’ve never been the transfer student, but everyone feels apprehensive about moving. When Mina suggested that we eat lunch with you, I agreed instantly.” You hum in appreciation. “Well thanks you guys. I’ll follow your lead.”

The three of you continue to the cafeteria, which already is packed with students. Mina smiles. “I’ve heard that the food at this school is actually pretty good.” “Really? I hope so. The food from the cafeteria in middle school in Busan was really bland.” Soobin tuts. “We’ll see. I’ll have to taste for myself. Rumors tend to blow up about this school and it’s strangely good cafeteria food.” You laugh. “This is why I usually cook my own food from home. At least I know what I’m getting myself into!” The three of you load up your plates with food, finding a small table that you crowd around. It probably is only meant to hold two people, but the three of you manage. You tentatively take a bite of your stir fry noodles. It’s actually pretty decent. You hum in response to the good surprise. “Well, it’s not as good as people were touting it to be,” Soobin says, picking up some more noodles with her chopsticks, “but it’s definitely much better than the food from our middle school.” Mina happily swallows her mouthful. “I’m just happy that we get to eat lunch with you Y/N.” You smile softly to yourself. You’ve gotten really lucky so far.

The chime to signal the end of the day rings, and it stirs you in your seat. It’s technically only the first day of classes, so there isn’t any real reason to stay after school and study- especially as a first year. The only homework you have is some early reading comprehension, and something for Teacher Lee. Clubs haven’t officially opened applications for first year students yet- that will happen at the end of the week, though you suspect by the time you get to school tomorrow there will be recruitment posters aligning the signboards in the hallways and the school entrance. If anything, you can at least pack your new textbooks in your locker to lighten the weight of your backpack.

Students are already rushing to get out of the classroom, and the unlucky two students who had to stay behind to clean up on the first day begrudgingly begin cleaning up the classroom. Mina and Soobin meander their way from their own desks to your own. “We don’t have much homework today, but do you want to study at the library together?” Soobin asks as you are packing up your backpack. You nod. “I have no other plans, plus, you guys can show me the library.” “More importantly,” Mina says, as the three of you stroll lazily through the hallway, “we can exchange phone numbers.” You giggle, while you can feel Soobin’s eye’s roll.

When you make it to the library, the three of you find an empty spot, which is easy enough considering that it’s the first day of school. You complete your work quickly, especially under Soobin’s guidance. It wasn’t too difficult, just some simple reading comprehension, and an “about me” sheet for Teacher Lee. Day one of school is easy enough. Too bad high school couldn’t stay like this. You stay and chat about everything and nothing, drifting from topics of Busan to the cute boys in your class. You find yourself eyeing Mina’s pencil case, and her cute stationery supplies. Soobin’s is equally cute, though not as pink. “Where did you guys get your stationery supplies? They’re so cute. I should get some new ones!” Mina brightens up at the possibility of shopping, and Soobin seems to be interested as well. “You’ll need new supplies for the year.” Soobin nods, beginning to pack up her items. Mina takes the hint. “Come on Y/N! We’ll take you to our favorite store. It’s not too far from the school, only about a ten minute walk.” You already are zipping up your bag.

Exiting the school from the back entrance, the three of you pass by the large track and field, as well as the basketball and tennis courts. It looks like there are already some people playing around. You don’t spend too much time looking, but you see a familiar side profile. You pause for a second to get a better look. Sure enough, you notice the boy you fatefully saw on the bus. You finally are graced with what he fully looks like. Being able to see his face your eyes widen in realization of just how attractive he is. He has pale, fair skin, contrasting with his dark and intense eyes. He sweeps his long bangs of his silky hair to the side as he wipes away some He may be one of the shortest amongst the seven boys playing on the basketball court, but he’s definitely the most agile, taking shots towards the hoop with ease.

“Yoongi, over here!” The boy from your class you remember is named Kim Taehyung. Now that you look further, you notice other boys from your class- Park Jimin, your desk neighbor, and Jeon Jungkook, the close friend of latter two. Either way, you finally get to hear his name. Yoongi, huh?

“Y/N?” Mina calls, and Soobin walks back towards you, as they had walked a few steps before noticing your lack of presence. “That guy, the one named Yoongi. Do you know who he is?” Mina squints, looking at the seven boys running around the court. “Oh! Min Yoongi?While I don’t know him personally, he’s pretty famous at this high school- he was famous in our middle school too.” Soobin nods in agreement. “Actually, all seven of those boys are pretty famous for being the seven princes.” You snort a bit at the nickname. “Seven kings? Because they are so handsome?” Soobin shrugs. “Just what I overheard anyways.” Mina suddenly grabs both you and Soobin’s elbows, walking quickly. She whispers under her breath. “I think we’ve been spotted by Jeon, we should keep walking forward.” Oops, you don’t want to be caught staring- that’s embarrassing. You feel your ears turning warm.

“What’s Min Yoongi like?” You ask, at a safe enough distance from the court. “He’s pretty stoic around people he doesn’t know.” Mina says, turning to look at you. Soobin also speaks up. “You seem very interested. Do you perhaps have a crush already?” Your warm ears turn into a full on blush that spreads to your cheeks.

“I-I wouldn’t say that.” You stutter. Even to you that sounds lame. “I just saw him on the bus this morning and felt a connection. You know?” Mina nods enthusiastically. “Like you needed to know who he was immediately? How romantic!” She gushes.

Soobin just smiles. “You sure know how to choose them though Y/N. One of the seven princes!”

You wait patiently at your desk, waiting for your desk neighbor to arrive, but instead, you see Jeon Jungkook arrive instead - it’s the rare occasion that he is not near Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. While you have only been at school for one day, it’s pretty obvious just how close he and his friends are. You silently wonder if you’ll ever be that close with Mina and Soobin, but you don’t want to make assumptions.

That was his name, correct? Jeon Jungkook? You aren’t as comfortable talking to him as you are talking to Park Jimin, your fellow desk neighbor, or even Kim Taehyung, who’s so excitable and friendly to everyone. You weigh your options- just how badly do you want to know Min Yoongi? Your bite your lip in annoyance. You decide it’s now or never. If not Park Jimin or Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook is going to have to do.

You approach him as He’s digging in his bag for something- he must have forgotten his wallet. Jungkook can feel your presence, especially your hesitance. He mentally sighs, pretending to struggle to find his wallet even though his fingers brushed upon it just moments ago. He isn’t going to make it easy for you- but he wishes you would just get this over and done with, because then he can set the record straight, and end it before it begins.

You clear your throat. “Jeon Jungkook!” A voice shouts for you, and the both of you turn to face the loud rattle from the door. It’s Park Jimin. You mentally breathe a sigh of relief. “Hurry up dude, we’re starving.” Kim Taehyung pops behind him. His eyes perk up when he notices your presence too. “Hello Y/N!” Jimin says happily, walking up to you. “Were we interrupting anything?” You shake your head, waving your hands in front of you a little too dramatically. “Oh no, not at all. I can just talk to him later.” You liar, there is no way you’ll approach Jeon again.

Jungkook sighs. “I got it. Come on, before all the good meal options are gone.” Taehyung ignores him, walking up to you. “Where are your friends? Choi Mina and Lee Soobin right?” You shrug. “They are fulfilling some tasks requested by Teacher Lee.” Jimin excitedly talks too. “Why don’t you eat with us? It’s never fun to eat alone.” You feel your eyes bug out of your sockets. Your pretty sure Jungkook’s does the same. “She might have other plans.” Jungkook interjects. Taehyung peers at you. “During lunch? Nah. Come on Y/N, do you have your wallet?” You nod your head. Taehyung walks with you on your right, Jimin on your left, and now it would be too awkward to say no.

Honestly? Jungkook doesn’t understand why you got invited to lunch. He continues to eye you warily, as Taehyung and Jimin both drag you off to the cafeteria, chatting with you excitedly about their hyungs. Jungkook makes sure he trails slowly behind. He’s seen this scenario before in middle school- girls consistently hanging around to ask who is friends are. And then come once they know, there is the constant bombardment of questions- “favorite food?”, “favorite color?”, “favorite drink?” and of course, his least favorite, “what his ideal girl?” And the girls seem to always start very enthusiastically, however the attention and friendship of all six of his friends wears them out, and they leave in the end. Jungkook mentally sighs. Girls give him headaches. Why can’t they appreciate and have fun with all of his friends? Why do they crush first but give up half-way?

Jungkook doesn’t just feel this way for his friends either, he gets antsy when he can tell a girl is obviously flirty with him. It makes him nervous and unsure- making him very wary of any approach of the opposite sex. It’s not that he doesn’t have any female friends or anything, or that he can’t get play and banter or hang out- it’s fine when he’s with his friends. It’s when he’s cornered -alone- and a girl professes her undying love to himself or his friends that he gets him a bit anxious.

He’s decided to be reserved but cautious concerning you- it’s obvious that you have hearts in your eyes whenever you look at Yoongi across the room in the cafeteria- even though you haven’t gotten the chance to speak to Yoongi directly yet. However, he’ll give you some credit- you haven’t yet asked a ton of questions, or consistently following him around. Today was the only time you approached him, and even then it seemed like you were contemplating whether or not you wanted to bug him. Jungkook is surprised- ever since he spotted you when you passed the basketball courts the first day of school, eyes immediately zeroing in on Yoongi, he thought you would approach him, or jimin or Taehyung the very next morning. But you didn’t.

It also seems as if Jimin and Taehyung have decided to include you first- maybe you have an easy going aura about you- you already have made friends, as people seem to like you already even though you are the new transfer student. He still may be cautious about you, but he trusts his friends- even more than he trusts himself. So for now, he’ll watch from a distance.

As you approach the cafeteria, Jimin and Taehyung nudge you in front of them in the queue. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I actually brought my own lunch today.” The three boys all glance down at your lunch box, which they hadn’t noticed yet. “I don’t mind waiting with you in line though, Park. Kim.” You nod towards them. Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows together in distaste. “There’s a ton of Parks and Kims and Jeons here in this school, let alone In Seoul and in the South Korea. Just call us by our first names.” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s okay? You barely know me.” Jimin scoffs. “Wouldn’t you feel weird if we started calling you by your last name?” You shrug. “Well I think it’s weird for classmates to call each other by their last names. I insist- call me Taehyung. Or Tae! That’s what all my friends call me.” “And please call me Jimin. It’s a lot more friendly- especially since I’m your desk mate!” Jimin appeals to you via a cute pout. You notice the silence from Jungkook. Better stick with calling him Jeon, for now at least.

“Alright, Jimin. Taehyung.” You smile softly.

You wait patiently as the line creeps forward, and the three boys gather their lunch, trays in hand. You follow to their recognizable table in the cafeteria. It looks like the third year, who you e identified as being Kim Seokjin, is eating a hearty helping of sweet and sour pork at the moment. It looks like the others have yet to arrive. You notice that Kim Seokjin dips his pork in the sauce, not pouring it.

“Ah! Jin hyung. We have a guest sitting with us today. This is Y/N, a fellow classmate from 1A.” Jimin motions for you to sit down at the table first. Jin finishes his bite, hand reaching across the table to shake yours. “Kim Seokjin. Please call me Jin though, it’s much more comfortable that way. It’s nice to meet you!” You smile. “I see you dip, not pour.” His eyes find yours, and he grins. “Ah, you noticed. Well, it’s the correct way.” Taehyung sits next to Jimin, which leaves Jungkook to shuffle around to sit next to Seokjin on the other side. “Namjoon and Hoseok busy this lunch?” Jungkook subtly tries to change the conversation. “Speak of the devil.” Jin says, eyes glancing behind you.

You turn in your seat, and see Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon, walking with trays in hand. You don’t see him though. “Who do we have the pleasure of eating lunch with?” Namjoon smiles, motioning with his head in your direction as he takes a seat next to Jungkook. Hoseok follows suit. “I’m Y/N, Jimin and Taehyung were kind enough to invite me to eat lunch with you all.” Namjoon smiles, and you notice a cute pair of dimples that appear on either cheek. “I’m Kim Namjoon, and this is Jung Hoseok. We are second years.” You smile back, and begin to open your lunchbox in front of you. “Oh, what’s that? It looks really tasty!” Hoseok says, eyeing your steak salad. Everybody’s eyes swivel to your lunch, looking in interest. Jin looks especially excited. You blink down at your meal. “It’s a simple steak salad that I made from yesterday’s left overs from home. Nothing too special.” You pick up your chopsticks and take a bite. You note that next time, you should add some potatoes as a side dish, to make the meal a little heartier and more filling. Looking up from your bite, you notice that the boys haven’t taken a bite from their own meal yet. “Aren’t you going to eat?” You ask, a little embarrassed with how intensely they are looking at your lunch. That seems to shake them out of their reverie.

“How rude would it be for me to ask for a taste when I only just met you?” Jin asks, eyes still not leaving your food. You shrug. “I don’t mind, but you have to give me a bite of yours!”

All six boys attempt to shove their plates at you. You laugh at their enthusiastic response, and place a small piece of steak on all of their plates. You look down and notice you don’t have much of your own left, but looking at all of their reactions, you remember why you enjoy cooking in the first place. Each of them look happy with their small portion, and each of them scoop up a healthy portion into your lunchbox in return. Jungkook even gives you a larger piece of chicken.

What do they say again? A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?

“So have you decided on a club yet Y/N?” Jin asks between bites. You shake you head emphatically. “I’m a transfer student, so I’m going to take my time choosing. I’m not sure what club I would suit anyways. Maybe I should wait until next semester to join.”

Hoseok makes a sound in disagreement. “Don’t do that, you’ll be a loner like Yoongi. Already a third year and he never joined a club. He’s missing out on a lot of fun.” Your ears perk up in the mention of Yoongi’s name being mentioned. Namjoon shakes his head. “You know how hard he works on his music. He’s good at it too.” Taehyung quirks his head in thought. “Speaking of Yoongi, where is he?” Jin dismisses Taehyung’s question with a wave of his hand. “Where do you think? He told me he wasn’t hungry, and he had sudden inspiration or something. He disappeared the minute the bell went off for lunch.” Jin then turns to you again. “More importantly Y/N, I think you should join the cooking club. I am the president this year, and tasting your steak is convincing enough for an invitation.” You chew on the insides of your cheek. “Is the steak really that good?” Namjoon nods. “Trust me, if Jin thinks your good enough to join just based on one bite, your steak is good.”

You’ll give it some thought. You wonder if your cooking would taste good to Yoongi too.

It seems as if Mina and Soobin have both been interested into other clubs. Which is why you pause with your hand on the doorknob to this particular club alone.

“You could join the dance club with me!” Mina tugs your hand encouragingly, and you shake your head. “Me? Dance? There is no way I have enough coordination for that Choi Mina.” She pouts a little at your immediate distaste, and Soobin chimes up. “Well I’m heading to the Student Council’s office- I heard that they are asking for applications to fill in the empty treasurer spot. I know they are also looking for class representatives though, so you could follow me if you wanted to.” “As much as I would like to hang out with you more Soobin, I don’t think I would get chosen since I’m a new transfer student.”

“Which club are you going to join then Y/N?” Mina looks worried for you. “Do I have to join one today? Can’t I take time to explore some clubs?” You sigh, slightly annoyed at your indecision. You know clubs are important for being involved with the school, and is a perfect way to relax for a couple of hours before intense studying, but you just aren’t sure what club you want to join just yet. “If you don’t find an activity, the school is going to expect you to stay after school to just study alone.” Even for studious Soobin, she winces at the idea.

“Well, I guess I do have one in mind.”

It’s not like any other club has piqued your interest, so that’s why you have decided to go to the cooking club, accepting Kim Seokjin’s invitation. You still aren’t sure if he genuinely invited you because he liked your cooking, or if he invited you out of kindness, but you figured you might as well join a club of a hobby that you really enjoy. That’s better than study hall after school any day. Who knows, maybe you’ll get to test out a couple of recipes that you haven’t gotten a chance to do at home. You hear a small laugh behind you, and you yank your hand away from the door in surprise. “Are you trying to figure out how to use a door Y/N? Did they not have those at your old school?” You feel the tips of your ears go red. It’s Kim Seokjin, waiting patiently with his arms crossed. How long had he been standing there for? “Of course we do, I was just wondering if I was at the right place.” You push open the door, Seokjin following close behind. You are met with a few others sitting near the sink counter, three of them girls, and two boys. Seokjin clears his throat, and you scurry to find a stool to sit on.

“Hello fellow cooking club members! We have a potential interested party in our lovely little club. She has good skills too, I have tried it myself. This is Y/N.” You bow politely to the group. “Let’s try to convince her to stay shall we! Since Minji graduated, we are minus one body to qualify as a club.” Seokjin turns to you. “Don’t feel pressured to stay though- lets just enjoy this recipe for today!” The other members of the club go in a circle to introduce themselves- there’s shy Ha Eun, the only other third year (who’s face seems to flush whenever Seokjin acknowledges her), and for second year students, there is excited Jae Hyun, chatty Yoona, and equally chatty Min Ji. Yugyeom is the only other first year, staying that he joined yesterday. After introductions, you bow again. “I’m in your care!”

You begin to help set up each cooking area, handing out ingredients, following Ha Eun’s lead. From the ingredients, it seems like you will be making a simple vegetable stir fry to begin with. “We will continue to start with more simple recipes since we just started this school year.” Seokjin nods towards the small print out pile in front of him. “This recipe shouldn’t take long, so let’s try and make the best food we can in an hour.” Everyone begins to grab the produce to wash as well as knives, but Seokjin walks over to you from his station in the front. “So typically we cook or bake a recipe for an allotted amount of time, before tasting each others and making comments about improvements.” You nod your head diligently. “I didn’t think it would be this professional- to be honest I thought it we would cook whatever we wanted that day.” Seokjin smiles in response. “We have days like that too- but the whole approval of this club from the school was so that we could even be more competitive about cooking- it is a skill that should be developed. That’s what we said to the student council anyways when I created this club as a first year.”

“You better get working, you now are at 50 minutes.” Seokjin says, patting you on the shoulder affectionately. You smile back and get your hands to work.

It’s your second week of school and you are beginning to fall into a routine. You could even say you are beginning to feel comfortable, having fun chatting with Soobin and Mina. It’s your turn to deliver paperwork for the class to Teacher Lee after school, and so you make your way to the teacher’s offices- you managed to convince Soobin and Mina to go ahead and let them meet you in the library. You reach your destination, and drop off the papers before bowing respectfully in goodbye to the teachers. You make your way to the library to meet your friends. To reach the library, you pass by some of the club rooms, but you find yourself stopping abruptly. There is the unmistakable sound of the piano that drifts through the hallways, the melancholic string of notes call towards you. You haven’t heard this song before, but you desire to hear more.

Mesmerized, you try and get closer to the source of the piano- and you recourse to the music practice rooms. As the song becomes more clear, you know you are on the right track. You finally find your destination, quietly leaning to peek through the window of the practice room. And that’s when you notice him- while his head is bowed over the keys, back facing towards the window, and you can’t see him very well, your instincts tell you it is Min Yoongi. Mina and Soobin hadn’t mentioned to you yet that he plays piano!

You even more sure now. You aren’t just satisfied with seeing Min Yoongi, you need to meet him, for deeply beautiful music is created by a deeply beautiful person. You wonder why his music feels so bittersweet.

“Holy cow.” Is the only thing Jin manages to say. It seems as if you have rendered him speechless over your kimchi fried rice. You feel a little sheepish. “Uh, did I make too much? I guess I got a bit excited. You don’t have to finish it if doesn’t taste good! It doesn’t taste good... right?” You find yourself rambling, a bit nervous. You always got a lot of compliments from your parents whenever you cooked kimchi fried rice for dinner- and you always were quite confident in your kimchi fried rice. That’s why when Jin mentioned to bring ingredients for today’s cook, you may have gotten a bit too excited. Maybe a bit too confident even. You nervously wait for further response from Jin. Speaking of Jin, Jin just continues to ogle your massive serving, and shakes his head, waking up from his trance. He turns to you and grins wide, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Y/N, no joke. This has to be some of the best kimchi fried rice I have eaten in a long time.” Jin grips the spoon that he had let dangle loosely in his hands. He excitedly turns to the other members of the cooking club. “You guys have to try this. There’s certainly enough for everyone to enjoy!” Eyes go wide, and there is a small scurry to your fried rice, and you watch the delight become apparent on each of their faces, everyone grabbing bowls to enjoy the meal.

At first, you feel the flood of relief pumping through you, and then you feel really satisfied. You’ve always enjoyed the pleasant emotions associated with good food- sharing it, cooking it, eating it. You love how good food inexplicably binds those who enjoy it together, and to be the person who can be the reason of those bonds makes you feel warm inside out.

Jin enthusiastically turns to you, once everyone seems to have enjoyed a nice helping of your fried rice. There’s still a ton left. “We have to go share with your friends! Let’s go deliver it to them. I’m sure it will make them happy.” Your smile grows into a full grin. You were going to save some for Mina and Soobin anyways, but going to deliver it as a surprise with Jin sounded fun. “Do you think your friends would enjoy it? There is plenty to share.” Jin’s face lights up even further. “I’m glad you mentioned it Y/N, because I was just about to ask you if you wouldn’t mind sharing with them!”

You help Jin scoop up the remaining fried rice into convenient restaurant take away containers that Jin smartly provided for the cooking club for instances like this. “You know, you don’t have to keep calling them my friends. They’re your friends too.” Jin kindly carries the bag of food while you walk down the hallway. He refused to let you carry the food yourself, swatting your hand away while you attempted to grab it. You look up at him with a shy smile. “You think so? I haven’t even hung out with you guys that much.” Jin laughs. “Any person who shares their food, especially home cooked food, is a friend of mine. Knowing how much they love my cooking, I can guarantee they will love yours.” He gives you a reassuring nudge with his free elbow.

The two of you reach your first destination- it’s the student council office. Jin impatiently raps on the door. “They don’t do that important of stuff- trust me.” He says, seconds away from opening the door himself. You are greeted by Soobin. “Kim Seokjin? Y/N? What’s up? Do you need to discuss something about the cooking club with the student council?” Seokjin smiles, walking forward and shaking his head. “Oh Namjoon~” he calls, reaching into the bag. Student council president Kim Namjoon looks up from his notes, quirking his eyebrow. “On behalf of Y/N, representative of the cooking club, here is her deliciously cooked kimchi friend rice!” He plops the tub in front of Kim Namjoon, and you can see him practically begin to salivate- the hard working, studious and intelligent Kim Namjoon turning soft at the mention of food. You grab other tubs of rice out, placing one especially in front of Soobin. “I made it with you in mind Soobin! Tell me what you think!” She grins up at you. “Thanks, I’m so glad I finally get to eat a meal especially from you!” She grabs the chopsticks that you set down in front of her in a flash. Once again, you see the scene of happy faces enjoying your food, and Jin turns to you with a proud smile. “It’s absolutely amazing Y/N!” Soobin shouts, and you are pleased to get such an enthusiastic response from Soobin. You giggle. “I should cook for you and Mina more often, if you are going to shower me in praise.” Namjoon speaks up. “Y/N, you and Jin spoil me so for any future meals. Please cook for us again, because I’ll also shower you with praises.” The other student council members follow suit. Jin nods, pleased at the response. “Well, other bellies need to be filled, so the food fairies must be on their way.” Jin lightly motions you to the door. Before you close the door, he sends a flying kiss their way.

Your next stop is the dance practice rooms, and you can hear the low, reverberating bass of hip hop music escaping into the hallway. Jin doesn’t even bother knocking this time, bursting through the door without a second thought. Jimin eyes the dramatic entrance from the reflection in the mirror, running over to the speakers to pause the music. Jung Hoseok turns, small glare turning into a happy smile when he sees who it is. Mina bounces over to you, immediately hooking her arms around yours. “Jin! Y/N! What brings you to the dance club? Are you done with cooking?” Hoseok walks over, while Jimin glides, eyes peering curiously at the bag in Jin’s hand. He unpacks the food, handing it to the three of them. Mina’s eyes light up, turning towards you. “Do I finally get to eat a meal from you? I’m so excited!” She turns to Hoseok and Jimin, who are already moving to sit down on the floor. “Whenever Y/N brings her own lunch to school, I always try and steal a bite- her cooking is the best!” Jimin smiles at you, and then at Jin. “Is it as good as your kimchi friend rice Jin?” Jin scoffs. “Even better.” Hoseok doesn’t say anything, except for an excited shout. It seems as if he has already tried a bite. Jin peers down at Jimin. “See what I mean?”

You don’t stay long- Jin begins walking to the door. “The food fairies must be on their way, we have other important deliveries to make!” And with that, Jin sends the group a flying kiss before shutting the practice room door behind him.

Jin walks a bit down the hallway, and stills. He turns to you, looking a bit sheepish. “Since Taehyung is in the photography club, I’m not sure if they are shooting outdoors today, or if they are in their studio.” He holds the bag of remaining food in front of you. “Would you mind holding this for just a moment while I text Tae? He should respond pretty quickly.” You take the bag of food. “Of course, you’ve been kind enough to carry it so far. Why would I mind at all?” He flashes you a quick grin in appreciation, proceeding to fish for his phone in his pocket. “I should text Jungkook too- who knows where the hyper kid is on any given day. That kid is involved with way too many clubs.” You find yourself nodding, mostly to yourself. It makes sense that Jungkook would be involved in a lot of activities- from what you’ve observed so far, he seems to excel at everything. You wish you were that talented to apply yourself to any task, but at least you can be confident now that at least that you are good at cooking kimchi fried rice.

It seems Jin has already gotten a response, because he’s putting his phone back into his pocket, and he grabs the bag from you while you are lost in thought. “Looks like Taehyung is shooting outside by the benches. We should go drop off his food before it gets cold.” Jin seems like he knows where to go, so you follow behind his fast pace. Jin sighs, speaking up again when you reach the doors to the outside. “Let’s see if I get a response from Jungkook- he and Yoongi are awful at texting. At least I know where Yoongi will be.” You snort. Well, there’s one thing you’re better at than Jeon Jungkook.

You don’t see your fellow classmate at first, because he’s laying down on his belly, taking a shot at the spring flowers that are slowly beginning to bloom. He looks cute, face hidden behind the camera, feet kicked up behind him. “Taehyung~ are you hungry? The food fairies are here to deliver for you!” The two of you have squat down to Taehyung’s level. Jin already has the food in hand, dangling it in front of the camera lens. Taehyung perks up, flashing you his characteristic boxy smile. “Y/N! You brought me food?” He sits up quickly, leaning over to give you a big hug. “It’s kimchi fried rice that Y/N cooked- it’s not too spicy so even you can enjoy it Taehyung!” Jin says, and Taehyung releases you quickly. “You made us food? You’re the best. I don’t have to taste it to know it’s going to be delicious Y/N- especially since Jin is recommending to me!” He takes a bite, and grins at you, showing you a proud double thumbs up. Jin pats Taehyung and your shoulder, standing up. “Remember to always support the cooking club, we are here to serve.” You mirror Jin, waving a goodbye to Taehyung. “Thanks for enjoying my food! I’ll try to cook for everyone with Jin more often.” You haven’t seen Taehyung nod so fiercely in a while. “It’s time for the food fairies to bid their adieu- we will return someday!” And Jin throws a kiss Taehyung’s way, already making his way to the doors to go back indoors.

You find yourself nervous for your next delivery- it’s the person who’s opinion on your cooking matters most. It’s also the first time you will officially meet him. You nibble on your thumbnail the closer you and Jin get to the music practice rooms. “Well, let’s deliver to Yoongi next. Maybe it will give Jungkook the time to answer his hyung’s text- that kid. And if not, you and I can just share it. It’s hard work, delivering all this food.” You barely register what Jin is saying, because Jmyou are almost at your destination.

You hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s piano melodies, and your heart can’t help but flutter against your rib cage. But, unexpectedly, you hear a voice filter in tune with the piano. It shocks you- if you thought Yoongi’s piano playing was beautiful, the voice is that and, if you dare say, more- complimenting the dreamy chords of the piano. The voice is powerful and stable enough that you hear the lyrics- and you wrack your brain to see if you recognize the song. It doesn’t sound familiar.

Jin seems to know more than you do however, because his face shows acknowledgment. He turns to you, before knocking on the door. “Looks like we ended up finding Jungkook!” And you feel your cheeks begin to warm. That was Jungkook’s voice? Jeon Jungkook? Of course he would have a completely wonderful singing voice too. You scoff silently to yourself. Just what the heck can he not be good at?

You don’t have time to shift through your paltry memories of Jeon Jungkook however, because you are greeted with his face. His eyes light up upon seeing Jin, but he quirks an eyebrow at your presence. You quickly look away, not wanting to look him in the eyes, out of minor embarrassment- deciding to try and look behind him instead, for Yoongi.

Thankfully, just as before, Jin is the first to speak up. “Hello Yoongi, Jungkook, the fairies of the cooking club are here to make a special delivery.” He pushes his way past Jungkook to approach Yoongi at the piano. You follow suit, making sure you step away from Jungkook. You can already feel his stare. “Hello, Y/N right? Jin has said a lot about you. I’m Min Yoongi.” Yoongi greets you with a lazy smile. Yoongi then looks at Jin. “Just what are you offering to us that interrupted our practice? Jungkook doesn’t have a lot of time today to sing my song.” Jin shoos away the comment with his hand. “It’s kimchi fried rice- eat it- I know you won’t say no to good food.” Jungkook rushes over to Jin at the announcement of food, hand plunging into the bag. Jin pushes him away, reaching into the bag to give the food to Yoongi first. “Hey! Be patient.” He says to Jungkook, and Jungkook shrinks his hand back, worried about the possibility of not getting food. He hands Jungkook’s portion to him with a chuckle. “Well, try a bite. You’ll see it’s the best kimchi friend rice you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating before.” You watch Yoongi from behind Jin, hiding behind his broad shoulders. You are anticipating Yoongi’s response the most, but are also scared to see it. You don’t know what you’ll do if He doesn’t like it. You barely register with your peripheral vision that Jungkook has just taken his first bite because you are so nervous.

Yoongi nods after he swallows, smiling widely at Jin. “Wow Jin, you’ve outdone yourself this time.” Jin shakes his head. “No, no,” Jin refutes, stepping to the side, “this is made by Y/N.” Jungkook makes a surprised choke. “You made this Y/N? I thought Jin’s food was the best, but this kimchi fried rice is way above his league.” You manage a small smile from your nervousness back at him. “Thanks Jeon- I’m glad you like my cooking.” He shrugs. “I give credit where credit is due.” You don’t see his gaze linger on you, eyes softening in newfound appreciation. Perhaps you weren’t so bad just yet.

Your eyes flick back to Yoongi, and out of habit you begin to bite your fingernail out of nervousness. Yoongi smiles knowingly, your cute actions giving yourself away quickly. He stalls for as long as possible. “This is delicious. I’ll not so quietly admit it’s better than even my mother’s kimchi fried rice.” Your eyes widen, smile deepening. Cute. He’s starting to notice you easily your emotions reflect on your face. “Just don’t tell my mother that please.” He chuckles as an afterthought, scooping another serving into his mouth. Jungkook is already done with his.

“Well, we won’t bother your songwriting any longer. Come on Y/N, time to clean up the club room.” You nod, feeling light and airy. Yoongi likes your cooking! You don’t think he was just being polite either, considering he complimented it before he knew it was yours. Hearing his praise makes up for all your hard work. Jin leaves with his flying kiss, which you now recognize as his signature parting gift. You wave goodbye at the two boys, following behind Jin closely. The door closes, and Yoongi and Jungkook sit in silence for a moment.

“Cute.” Is all Yoongi says, placing his empty food container to the side, before stretching and turning to face the piano once again.

Jungkook finds himself automatically nodding in agreement.

It’s the end of classes yet again, and you find yourself saying goodbye to Mina and Soobin quickly, rushing to go to the club room. It’s White Day tomorrow, and so the nervous chatter amongst all the girls at school has been rapidly increasing, starting with the beginning of the week, into the crescendo of giggly girls by the end of main classes today.

“First year students like ourselves shouldn’t be expecting much.” You say, looking at Mina pointedly, eyebrow arching. You can’t blame her for being excited though- even you have a small flutter of the tiny possibility of chocolates being surprising you on White Day. The possibilities of potential romantic scenes play endlessly in your head, old drama scenes reenacted in your dreams, starring you. Not that you’d admit it out loud anyways.

Soobin snorts. “White Day and Valentine’s Day are just silly corporate holidays so that candy and sweet companies can make more money.” Trust Soobin to have the ability to crush your fluffy romantic fantasies with cold harsh reality. You can’t help but think if she can’t help but wonder if she’s trying to convince herself too.

Mina pouts. “Let a girl dream, Soobin.” Soobin rolls her eyes. “Who would want a gift from other first year boys anyways? They’re too immature to even realize White Day is approaching.” The three of you sigh in unison. Why does this dumb day always have to get everyone in such a tizzy? And why can’t you help but feel fuzzy?

You open the door to the cooking club room, and you are met with counters full of baking ingredients. You see Jin pondering over a piece of paper (probably a recipe), worried brows scrunched together. It seems like Jin looks not as confident as he usually does. Perhaps Ha Eun is in charge of choosing the baking recipes and Jin the cooking recipes?

“Hello everyone, I came here as fast as I could. Who’s making what for White Day?” You put your backpack away as fast as possible, grabbing an apron to tie it around your waist.

Jae Hyun smiles at you shyly. “I’m making some chocolate for my girlfriend. You guys don’t need to help me with the actual making of the chocolate, just the wrapping and presentation. I suck at it.” Ha Eun nods. “Let us know if you need any assistance at all. Chocolate is pretty difficult.”

Yugyeom smartly decides to make cookies for White Day. “I can make batches so that it will be easy for every girl in my class to get a couple of cookies. Plus the cookies have chocolate chips in them- that counts right?” You give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure any girl would be happy that you handmade them cookies Yugyeom- I can’t even tell you if any other guy is going to be giving other girls sweet treats. Especially first years.”

Yoona clears her throat, glancing at Jin, who is still looking at his recipe sheet. “Uhm, Jin?” Min Ji pipes up, trying to get his attention. Ha Eun sighs dramatically, rubbing her temples. “Jin is not only making cupcakes for us, which is great and all, but he’s stupidly going to make chocolate lava cupcakes, decorated with frosting, including shiny cellophane wrapping for every single third year girl.” You, Yoona and Min Ji’s eyes widen. “S-seriously?” Yoona says, and you eye Jin’s massive pile of ingredients. “Oh yeah. And as nice as Jin is for asking me what my favorite chocolate cupcake recipe was so he could make it for me, he has never made it before.”

Min Ji’s mouth opens.

“Well... time to get to work, the guys are going to need our help.” You try and say with the most positive voice you could muster at the moment. “Especially Jin.”

Ha Eun snorts.

Jin might have bitten off more than he could chew. He wanted to bake a chocolate lava cupcake for every third year girl, as well as the girls in the club. You shake your head at his massive undertaking. “You do realize that when you decided on this endeavor, you would have to not only bake about 60 to 70 cupcakes, but you would also have to decorate and bag them up...right?” Jin groans. “I already said thanks to you guys for helping me make these…” Your eyes scan the empty room, counters full of cooling cupcakes. The others stated that they needed to study, or they had already finished their White Day gifts. Jin had shooed them away after they had helped with the baking even if they wanted to stay and help. You’re the last one he needs to kick out, but you are also incredibly stubborn, and honestly, you can tell Jin needs the help to decorate and put away in bags. Jin pouts at your heavy sigh to the mess you’ll inevitably have to clean. “I just wanted to make sure no one was sad or disappointed about not receiving a White Day gift.” You smile softly and his kind words. “Well, we don’t want to be here until 10, right?”

By the time you are done decorating and bagging all of Jin’s cupcakes, it’s already very late at night, and honestly you aren’t sure how many students are still here at school. You feel the satisfying pop of your neck and back when you finally tie the string around the last cupcake baggie. Jin shouts in joy, turning to you to hug you in celebration of finishing the daunting task.

As you guys clean up (haphazardly and very quickly- “I’m the President of this club and trust me, it’s fine. Future Jin can deal with the mess later.”), Jin follows you out the door, and the two of you walk in silence down the quiet school hallways, listening to the silent buzz of the fluorescent lights up above. By the time you reach the bus stop, Jin turns to you and smiles tiredly. “Thank you again for helping Y/N. I appreciate it. I really just want to see people happy, you know? I think you understand how I feel.” You nod. “That’s what’s so nice about cooking, isn’t it? Being able to share that small piece of happiness with others?” The two of you sit in comfortable silence, until your bus stops before the two of you, door whooshing open. “This is me.” You stand, making your way to the door. Before you get on, you turn and wave. “Good luck on studying for tonight!”

The last thing you hear is Jin’s warbled cry of terrible realization that homework still needs to be done.

When you arrive to school the next morning- (extremely sleep deprived and questioning your willingness to help Jin with his stupid cupcakes), you push through the crowd of girls surrounding your desk area, before the trill of the morning bell chimes. The chime helps, and you finally make it to your desk.

To be honest, you had no expectation for you to receive anything on White Day this year- you are the new transfer student, and while you are confident about yourself, you aren’t that delusional to think that you are so attractive to catch the eye of a boy so soon. You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyes to remove the excess sleep. Nope, you really do see a cute pink foil heart as well as a small baggie full of small chocolate m&ms. “Y/N! Happy White Day!” You hear, head lifting in automatic response. It’s Jimin, smiling happily at you, his characteristic moon eyes appearing. “Do you like our chocolates? We gave them to all of the girls in our class.” Taehyung’s head pops through the crowd enthusiastically. You smile softly back at them. “Thanks guys, that’s really sweet.”

If possible, the two of them smile wider. “We’re glad you like them. It’s nothing special, but no one should feel left out.” Taehyung adds. You then hear a tsk from Jimin. “You would have had a nice three pieces, if Jungkookie would have chipped in. But he refused to.” Taehyung rolls his eyes at Jimin’s statement in agreement. “Something about it being a dumb holiday, and not wanting girls to get confused about his true intentions. Whatever. Ow!” That had to have been Jungkook kicking in retaliation.

You shake your head affectionately at their antics. “Jimin, what was with all these girls crowding around in our classroom?” You tease. At least he looks sheepish. “Yeah, sorry about that. Word got out that we had some extras and girls from other classes decided to stop by.” You wink at him. “Nobody can resist the charms of the handsome three in 1A.” Jimin blushes a bit, looking flustered. “What? Is that an actual title? Is that what the first year students call us?” “They’re in class A for a reason.” You quote, and you hear Taehyung’s bubbly laugh. You hear Mina chime in. “Three of the seven princes all in one place.” Jimin hides his face in his hands. “Are you serious? Have you heard this Jungkook?” Jimin squeaks from behind his hands. Soobin sighs. “It’s honestly an annoyance. Don’t you see the the other first year students peeking into our classroom? They also come and ask us questions about you three all the time.” Jungkook sighs, clearly annoyed. “As long as they don’t come up to bother me, I don’t really care.”

Jimin rests his face on the desk. It’s going to be a long White Day.

The energy from White Day has finally calmed down a bit- and Jin called a rest day from club activities (he must be just as tired as you), giving you a cupcake with a bow. “Thanks for helping me Y/N. Without your help I wouldn’t have been able to complete this sweet event for the third year students. While his eyes seem heavy like yours, you can tell he’s being genuine. You accept the cupcake and begin to make your way back through all of the club rooms to return home for the day. Your parents won’t love that you skipped out on studying more at school and napping instead, but honestly you’re so tired that you don’t care.

As you wander, you begin to hear the characteristic tinkle of piano melodies drift through the air. You find yourself perking up to the sound, automatically moving toward it. You feel anticipation begin to bubble in your chest. You peek through the window, and there he is- body hunched over, hands skillfully roaming the ivory keys. It seems like he’s alone today.

You don’t really know him just yet, but the emotions that Yoongi makes you feel when he’s playing the piano makes you feel enveloped with a bittersweet longing and a tenderness that you can’t quite place when we you listen to him play. You find yourself sinking to the floor, sitting next to the door, and your exhaustion washes over you- your eyes flutter close, head drooping, and your dreams begin to take over, the bitter sweetness of the melody drifting into your dreams.

Yoongi’s hand stills on the piano keys, cracking his neck in a satisfying series of clicks and pops. He stretches his hands above his hand, and looks around his feet. He frowns. He could have sworn he bought some iced tea with him before he got to one of the music practice rooms, however he does not see it anywhere and tsks in annoyance. Once he starts writing his music, he really doesn’t like leaving until he feels like he’s done, but his throat feels dry, and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

He stands from the piano stool, and pats his uniform pant pocket, making sure his phone and wallet are there. With a satisfied nod, he opens the door, and is surprised to see you. You’re curled into yourself, and Yoongi can’t help but be reminded of a cat napping in the sun. He smiles and the soft image in front of him, your knees are pulled up into your chest, curled in a little ball, eyes closed as you breathe softly, your body rising with each small breath. It’s a nice scene, and Yoongi contemplates whether or not he wants to wake you up. He’s unsure how to go about this- he barely knows you- you’ve met a couple times, and the food that you bring around with Seokjin some days is undoubtedly delicious, and he makes sure to let you know- because the image of how happy you are to hear his words is too precious not to do so. However, he isn’t sure how long you’ve been napping here, and even if you do look comfortable, sleeping on the cold floor is not good for the body. Wait- Just -how- long have you been here? A light bulb goes off in his head. Were you listening outside to him play? Yoongi chuckles to himself. Once again, here you are, displaying your emotions unabashedly. That’s pretty cute- but how much more cute can you get? Yoongi decides he wants to see now, even more so than before.

You don’t know how long you’ve fallen asleep for, but you feel a gentle hand rouse you from your nap. When your eyes open, you must have been there for a while- because the sun has painted the sky a warm and hazy mixture of pinks and oranges. It takes you a second to register just who woke you up, until you see the soft smile of Yoongi appear. You feel yourself becoming red- you’ve just been caught red handed sitting and listening to him playing his music without asking.

“I’m glad I decided to take a break to go and grab a drink from the vending machine- you might have been here until 10:00.” Yoongi chuckles at your flustered expression and warming cheeks. Your actions emphasize what he was thinking before- you look like a cat who’s just woken up, a little confused for the disturbance, but eyes wide and watching.

You stretch out your limbs from your curled position, and attempt to stand in embarrassment. But because you’ve been sleeping in that position, your legs are a bit wobbly, and so you tumble a bit, hands reaching out to the first thing to help yourself. Which happens to be Yoongi’s shoulder. How much more of a fool could you make yourself be in front of Yoongi today? “I-I’m so sorry.” You say, flustered. What are you saying sorry for exactly, you aren’t sure. For listening to him play without asking? For falling asleep on the floor in front of the music practice room? For making him have to wake you up? For grabbing onto him rudely? All of the above. You wish the ground could swallow you up whole. Maybe it’s time to go back to Busan.

Yoongi chuckles, hands lifting to help steady you and you both stand. “I take naps a lot too, and trust me- the bench in the practice room is a lot more comfortable than the floor.” He considers it a victory when he sees your cheeks flush further, reaching to your ears. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep...” you say, trailing off because even to your ears it sounds like the most sorry excuse for why you were there in the first place. “Come, I’ll treat you to a drink from the vending machine. And then you can join me in the music room this time.” You nod, following behind him quietly. This is not how you pictured your first time hanging out with Yoongi, and now you wrack your brain trying to figure out how you can repay your rudeness. You haven’t quite figured it out yet, but the two of you already reach the vending machine- and Yoongi is pressing buttons. You take note of the drink- it’s a cold red tea. “What would you like?” He gestures over the machine. “Press whatever you want, the money is already in the machine.” You bite your lip. You kind of want strawberry milk, because something sweet would ease your nerves a bit, but your fingers hesitate. It’s one of the more expensive drinks, and you don’t want him to think you are taking advantage of his kindness. Yoongi sees you hesitate- and presses what he assumes you were going to get. You hear the clunk of the strawberry milk being dispensed. “How did you know that’s what I wanted?” You say, a little in amazement, walking behind him as the two of you make your way back to the music room. Yoongi shrugs as if it’s not big deal. “A lot of people like strawberry milk. Plus- Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook are obsessed with this drink- and you are the same age, so I figured this was the best bet.” You pout a bit. He sees you as a kid. But he’s not wrong- you do love strawberry milk a lot.

The two of you reach your destination, and he ushers you into the practice room first. Yoongi points to the bench, slightly off to the side of the piano. It’s not a big practice room, so you are practically sitting next to him. “There. You can nap there. I’ll try and play some soft melodies like before. That way you can take a nap again.” You shake your head. “I should at least study if I’m going to be hanging out with you in here. And play whatever you want- don’t play on my account!” Yoongi smirks. “Let’s see how long it takes you before you fall asleep again.” He motions his head to your Korean History I textbook that you have just unpacked from your backpack. You return your hand to retrieve your notebook, but your hand stills as it comes in contact with crinkly cellophane.

Yoongi takes a deep sip of his tea, appreciating the cool liquid that runs down his throat. When he removes the bottle from his lops, he sees you with an outstretched arm, chocolate cupcake in hand, as an offering. Yoongi chuckles. “Isn’t it usually the girls receiving sweets on White Day?” You shrug at him nonchalantly . “Aren’t you hungry? I’m just sharing- plus I helped Jin make this anyways.” Yoongi opens his eyes a bit, a moment of understanding passing. “Ah, so these are the cupcakes that Jin said he and you slaved away making for for every third year female.” He takes the cupcake from your hand, and raises it to his lips, proceeding to take a very large bite. “The one and only.” You gesture to yourself- your eyes watch Yoongi for his reaction to the chocolate cupcake- voice sounding much more confident than you actually feel.

When Yoongi sits back down at the piano, he begins to play. He’s actually a bit unsure about you staying while he writes his melodies- honestly he might regret this decision to have you hang out with him just a little bit. But as the comfortable silence blankets the two of you, Yoongi finds himself immersed in creating music once again, and you in your homework. Yoongi’s soothing playing relaxes you, and you find yourself diligently completing your homework. Another hour passes between the two of you, the sun fully set- the two of you encased in the small comfortable bubble of silent companionship.

#bts fic #bangtan fanfic #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x you #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenario #highschool au #slice of life au #teenage romance au #bts #ttokki fic #jungkook fluff #yoongi fluff

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blackwxtchmccree · 6 years ago

Text

Side to Side (Sugar Daddy!Gabriel Reyes x Reader)

Can also be found on my AO3 >>> here.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

It’s the end of April and I’m talking about Christmas, but it’s because I kinda wish it was Christmas. Also, if it sounds vaguely like I’m venting my personal problems through reader, well, it’s because I am. Regardless, I hope everyone enjoys! -Valk

P.S. I promise there will be smut. Soon.

Edit: also if you guys want me to start tagging you when I post this series, leave a comment in the notes <3 -Valk

The first gift Gabriel got you was a Tiffany necklace.

He had Jessie slip it into your bag before you flew back the next day with a note attached to the familiar blue box—

An early Christmas present.

I’m going to Aspen for New Years—it’s not required, but you’re welcome to join me if you want to get away from your parents. Feel free to bring your cat with you. Otherwise, I’ll see you next year. -GR

You didn’t notice it until you were unpacking, shooing Mira off of your clothes so you could throw them in the washing machine, hanging the dress you had worn to dinner up in your closet and putting your new heels by the door, eyeing them with a smile. Once you had transferred some of your things to your suitcase and packed extra clothes to take home, you picked the small box up, slipping the ribbon tied around it off and opening it. Inside, a silver, heart-shaped pendant with “Please return to Tiffany and Co. New York” inscribed on the front and a small key sat on a silver chain and you pulled it out gently, letting it dangle and examining it before clasping it behind your neck. You took a picture and sent it to Gabe with a plethora of hearts.

New Years? -GR

Right. You gave the city a quick search, being met with pictures of snowy mountain sides and expensive houses.

I’ve never been to Aspen. Looks… cold. -Y/N

It’s not too bad when you have someone to cuddle with ;) -GR

You snorted, rolling your eyes, thumb hovering over the screen. It was cheesy, but it made you smile.

Alright you’ve convinced me. See you on New Years? -Y/N

Can’t wait. -GR

With that, you set about your room to finish packing, taking the rest of the day to rest and edit a few photos you had been meaning to get to for a while—personal photos of a few of your friends walking through the fresh autumn leaves earlier that year when they had visited. You had forgotten about them, finding them again when you were sifting through old folders looking for family Christmas pictures that your mother needed for the Christmas cards this year.

The last few made you laugh as you scrolled through them, cuddling a cup of tea to your chest, smiling when you got to a picture of Lena—a short, brown haired girl with amber eyes that you had run track and become best friends with in high school—with a leaf smacking her in the face, Lena’s girlfriend Emily laughing at her in the background. You had snapped the picture at just the right moment, having meant to send it to her after you had uploaded them to your laptop back in September, but forgetting once you got swamped with homework and essays. She had gone to flight school to become a pilot instead of going to college like you—you hadn’t talked to her in a few weeks, deciding to restart the conversation by sending her a screenshot of the photo.

Alternatively, the next photo was of Brigitte—your other best friend who had gone to college in a neighboring state to study engineering—diving into a pile of leaves in the center of campus, her freckled pace popping out of the pile in the next photo, a leaf sticking to her nose. It made you snort and you sent that one to her, too. She visited every few weeks, so you saw her more often than Lena, and she was normally the only reason you ever went out, but you missed her all the same. The friends you had made here just weren’t the same as the two of them.

Within a few minutes, they were both requesting to chat and you accepted their video call requests, smiling when they both appeared on your screen.

“Hi you two,” you greeted them, nearly spitting out your tea when they both yelled excited greeting at you.

“I honestly thought you died I hadn’t heard from you in so long,” Lena snorted, adjusting the camera to better enclose her face. “Finals that bad, huh?”

“It’s certainly been a wild week,” you replied with a shrug, turning your head towards Brigitte. “How was it for you?”

“I’ve been running on coffee for almost 48 hours—you know how it is,” she replied, brushing her ginger hair out of her face. “My last final is tomorrow. I’m jealous you get to go home already.”

“Are both of you coming home?”

“I’m flying in bright and early Tuesday morning,” Lena replied, giving you a thumbs up. “I’m going to lunch with Emily, but after that I’m free.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow night,” Brigitte affirmed. “Half dead and ready to crawl into bed, but alive nonetheless.”

“Tuesday night it is then—we can get drinks. I have something to te-,” but Brigitte interrupted you, leaning in closer to her screen as if that would help her see you any clearer.

“That necklace… I know I wouldn’t be able to afford it, meaning you can’t either,” Brigitte said eyeing you suspiciously—just as observant as ever. “Where’d it come from?”

“Oh don’t tell me-,” but you interrupted Lena just as she got excited, your hand flying up to idly run a finger over the pendant, a blush highlighting your cheeks. You didn’t know how to explain it to them—knowing it would probably be easier if you did it in person.

“It’s only… kind of what you think. That’s why I want to see you both.”

They both affirmed your request, settling on a meeting place and time Tuesday night before the conversation drifted to the photos you had sent them among other things. Eventually, you found yourself drifting, reminding them of your plans before signing off, falling asleep with a smile on your face for the first time in a while. You didn’t know how they would take it, but they were your best friends, so you hoped they wouldn’t think any less of you.

You got up a bit earlier than usual the next morning, putting your suitcase and Mira’s carrier with her in it into the backseat before heading home. It was a bit of a drive, but you were there by mid-afternoon, unloading your things and greeting your family. You spent the next day and a half with them, helping your mother decorate the tree and wrap last minute presents, laughing as you watched Mira play among the excess wrapping paper.

You pulled your camera out, taking photos of her as she rolled around like a kitten before moving to take pictures of your mother cooking, snapping a few before she noticed and shooed you away. They may not have approved of you being a photography major, but you were damn good at it. It was also the first time in a long time that you actually enjoyed taking photos again—as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest. You could quit your job—not have to worry about bills and tuition and you could stop taking photos of things you weren’t particularly interested in and finally focus on what you wanted to. You knew you had Reyes to thank, your hand falling to the necklace under your t-shirt, a small smile gracing your lips.

The next night, you met up with Lena and Brigitte, hugging them both tightly outside of the bar you three had chosen. Brigitte had been working out and you complimented her on her physique; Lena hadn’t changed much and was as chipper as ever, dragging you inside and ordering wine for the three of you once you found a table.

“Alright—spill it. We want to know,” Brigitte started, scooting her chair closer to you and leaning in. Lena did the same and you looked between them for a moment before letting out a small sigh.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you found someone,” Lena chastised you, looking up at you with sad brown eyes, pouting.

“It’s not like… that. Not quite, anyway,” you replied sheepishly, taking a deep drink from your glass, realizing more alcohol may make this easier to get through.

“I mean if they’re buying you things it has to be pretty serious, right,” Brigitte asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. “How long have you been together?”

“Four days,” you deadpanned, laughing and nearly spitting out your wine when they both went wide eyed, confusion evident on their faces. “I may have found myself a sugar daddy. But like… a real one—not like a ‘still in business school’ banking executive wannabe.”

“You’re kidding,” Lena murmured, her face unreadable for a moment. Then, a smile broke out on her face she started giggling, looking at Brigitte before turning back to you. “I didn’t take you for one to be into older men, but whatever you floats your boat, love.”

“As long as he takes care of you,” Brigitte affirmed with a nod. “I will say this is the least stressed I’ve ever seen you. Have you met him—like in person?”

You nodded, sitting back in your chair and relaxing a bit, mentally scolding yourself for ever thinking they would have anything other than your best interests at heart. You quickly explained everything that had happened thus far, ordering another round of glasses for the three of you.

“Do your parents know,” Lena asked, knowing it would be just another point of contention between you and your parents.

“No—no one does except you two,” you replied with a shake of your head. “And I need it to stay that way. He’s flying me out to Colorado to spend time with him over New Years and I have no idea what I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Tell them I invited you to a party on campus because I didn’t want to go alone,” Brigitte offered nonchalantly, sipping at her drink.

“Or tell them I asked you to take pictures at a New Years party I’m hosting,” Lena suggested. “I’ll vouch for you.”

You smiled at them both, forcing down the tears that threatened to spill over, glad you had friends like them to cover and support you.

“Either works. Thank you both.”

You spent the rest of the night talking and laughing with them, even drunkenly singing a few karaoke songs on the stage together, realizing just how much you missed being around them. You finally stumble into your house around 1 am, picking up Mira and carrying her upstairs to your bedroom, texting both Lena and Brigitte to tell them you made it home safely before curling up in bed.

Christmas came and went as it always did—you found little had changed at home, which meant your patience with your parents wore thin after spending just a week at home, becoming tired of their passive aggressive remarks regarding your school work and your social life. When you told them you wouldn’t be home for New Years because you were going to a party, they both looked you, seemingly surprised.

“Going out for once? That’s a nice change,” your mother commented. “Did you finally makes some friends other than Lena and Brigitte? And your roommate doesn’t count.”

“Brigitte goes to a good school. Maybe you’ll find someone better than that deadbeat you dated in high school,” your dad chimed in, making you bite your tongue before you said something stupid. “Oh I meant to ask—how’d your exams go?”

“Fine—as usual,” you replied quietly, trying to keep a scowl off of your face.

“We expected as much—arts classes can’t be that hard,” your mother retorted. “It’s not too late to change your major, you know.”

To something more useful you could hear her thinking. It made you roll your eyes and you didn’t bother replying with anything other than confirmation that you were going with Brigitte and that you were leaving tomorrow. Gabe had actually scheduled your flight for New Years Eve, 2 days from now, but you texted him a few minutes later, asking if he could move it because you couldn’t stand being in your house anymore.

Done. Everything okay? -GR

Parents. I’ll tell you about it when I get there. Can’t wait to see you <3 -Y/N

You relayed which story you chose to Lena and Brigitte in case your parents asked, packing everything in advance that night, leaving before they woke up the next morning, even if it meant you had to sit for an extra hour at the airport. You boarded a smaller plane this time, tucking Mira’s carrier under your seat and settling back. You found that sleep was a little more difficult to find this time—the flight was turbulent and Mira was not pleased. You wanted to pull her out and cuddle her, but you were sure that was looked down upon, so you murmured to her sweetly to comfort her until she fell asleep. Once you landed, you toddled off the plane, vaguely quesy, relieved to be met with bone-chilling air once you stepped outside.

There was more snow on the ground than you had seen in your entire life and more was slowly falling. You shuffled into the small airport to grab your bags, met at the entrance by McCree and Shimada, the cowboy tipping his hat to you.

“Lookin’ a little green around the gills there, darlin’,” Jesse laughed, taking Mira from you as Genji grabbed your bag.

“You could say that,” you replied, brow furrowed. “Evidently I don’t deal very well with turbulence. Neither does she.”

“That’s alright. I don’t either,” McCree replied, opening the back door for you to get in, reaching around to the front seat to grab something, presenting you with a heavy peacoat. “From Reyes—it’s cold and it’s only gonna get colder, so bundle up.” You nodded, taking it gratefully and slipping it on.

Much to your surprise, the drive to the house was no more than 10 minutes from the airport. You looked out the window, watching in astonishment as you passed both houses and snow drifts bigger than you had ever seen before in your life. Turning onto a small street with a cul-de-sac, Jesse pulled into the driveway of a huge, more modern house near the end. You noticed two people standing at the front door and your eyes fell on Gabe standing opposite the couple inside the house, casually conversing with them. Genji opened the door for you, warning you to mind the ice.

“We’ll bring your bags inside and let Mira out to explore if that’s okay,” Shimada informed you and you nodded, thanking them as you headed towards the front entrance. Gabe looked up from the conversation as you approached, the couple he was conversing with turning towards you. ‘Play along’ you saw him mouth at you as you reached the steps that led up to the door, brow furrowing when he chuckled at your slightly taken aback expression.

“You must be Y/N! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” the man, a taller gentleman with dark hair and a mustache, greeted you brightly, extending his hand towards you and shaking it vigorously. The woman next to him, who you presumed was his wife, extended her hand as well, her long, black hair falling over her golden eyes as she greeted you quietly with a soft smile.

“Easy Gerard—she had a long flight,” Gabriel advised, extending a hand towards you as you came up the stairs, smiling when you took it and let him pull you inside. “Y/N—this is Gerard and Amelie. They live next door.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you said with a smile, clinging close to Gabriel’s side anxiously, caught slightly off guard by having been drawn suddenly into the conversation. You felt him rest his hand gently on your side, giving it a comforting squeeze that calmed your racing heart slightly.

“Gabriel has told us a lot about you. Congratulations on your tenure,” Amelie said, giving you a small, respectful nod. “Your dissertation on the influence of Renaissance humanist literature on Reformation ideology sounds intriguing. You’ll have to tell us about it sometime.”

“Gladly. It was a pivotal time in European history—the outcome of which shaped the religious and political landscape of the rest of the western world,” you replied with some degree of certainty, realizing what Gabe had meant when he said ‘play along’ earlier—also mentally thanking yourself for paying attention during your history class that past semester.

“We’ll leave you two be for now and let you get settled,” Gerard said with a finalizing nod towards both you and Gabriel. “See you on a couple of days.”

“Don’t forget that bottle of wine,” Gabriel called after them as they descended the stairs.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” And with that, Gerard and Amelie disappeared down the driveway and across the street. Gabriel ushered you fully inside after, unwilling to let any more cold air in.

“Wha-what was that,” you asked once he closed the door, turning towards you with a small smile on his face.

“Oh—I told them you were a newly tenured professor at my alma mater—just wanted to see how well you could play along,” Gabriel replied, smirking slightly as he approached you.

“How’d I do?”

“Very well—you handled that nicely,” he replied, resting a hand on your lower back and guiding you through the modestly decorated house. “You’re more capable than you think. You’ll do just fine at the events I take you to.”

“I hope so,” you said hesitantly, looking around as you passed down a short hallway into an open living space. A large living room sat to your left and a kitchen to your right. The back wall was made up of mostly paneless windows facing the huge, snowy mountains in the distance. You drifted over to look through the glass, admiring the view for a moment, awestruck.

You were drawn back out of your head when Reyes approached you, extending a mug of hot chocolate towards you. You took it gratefully, holding it for a moment to let it warm your hands before taking a sip, turning to watch as Gabe returned to the kitchen to grab his coffee, your eyes trailing over his form slowly. You admired the way the maroon t-shirt he wore clung tightly to his chest and arms, outlining the toned muscles that lay underneath. Your eyes fell further, down his muscular abdomen to the black skinny jeans he wore that clung to his strong thighs in all of the right places.

You had only seen him in suits up until now and something about seeing him dressed so casually made you blush, moreso when you realized he had caught you staring just now. He chuckled when you looked away, unable to meet his gaze, your hand flying up to cover your flushed face. That made Gabriel laugh even harder.

“You’re alright, cariña. I’m flattered,” he replied softly, making his way over to you, running an idle hand across your shoulders and down your back, making you shiver, but you found yourself leaning into his touch. “How was your flight?”

“Long. Turbulence made me nauseous and poor Mira didn’t know what to do with herself, but I think we’re alright now,” you replied, finding yourself leaning into his side, searching for his warmth. “Sorry if me coming a day early was an inconvenience. I-I just couldn’t stand being home any longer.”

“Not an inconvenience at all—it’s always almost too quiet here, so I’m glad,” Gabriel replied, taking your jacket as you slipped it off and hanging it in a nearby closet before settling on the plush couch, motioning for you to join him. “What happened with your parents?” You sighed, settling onto the couch next to him, finding it easy to curl up against him, your thumb running idly around the lip of your mug.

“It just seems nothing I do is good enough for them, is all,” you murmured, looking up to meet Gabriel’s gentle gaze. “They said I don’t have enough friends and I don’t go out enough, so I got a job and made new friends and started going to bars with them, but then my school work was suffering because I was always going to class hungover and they yelled at me about my grades, so I started studying more meaning I couldn’t go out as often and they told me I was being too much of a shut-in and so on…”

“Endless cycle, huh?”

“Basically. Now all I want to do is sleep because I’m exhausted all the time from working and studying so much and I don’t have the time or energy to go out anymore, so we’re back to square one,” you murmured, clenching your jaw, fighting back tears. “And I know they hate the major I chose because they don’t think I’m good enough to make it and I know I’ll never make enough money to ever make them think I’m ‘successful’, so sometimes I wonder why I even try anymore.” Your voice broke as tears stained your cheeks, a sob wracking your body.

You hadn’t meant to cry, almost embarrassed, but Gabriel took it in stride, quick to pull you closer, rubbing your back and using a gentle thumb to wipe away your tears.

“You’ve been working so hard, cariña,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You can relax now—I’ll take care of what I can for you, just focus on what you need to, regardless of what your parents think.”

“I wish it was that easy,” you sniffled, leaning into his touch as he cupped your cheek, letting your eyes flutter closed.

“Give it time. You can quit your job, you don’t have to worry about your tuition, you can spend more time with your friends and still have time to study,” Reyes murmured in reply, dragging the pad of his thumb gently across your cheek. “You’re so talented and I wish your parents could see what I do.”

“I’m just so tired.”

Those words broke his heart.

“I know,” he whispered, drawing your head against his chest, threading his fingers gently through your hair. “Get some rest for now.”

Being close to him like this was strange, but somehow felt natural and after a moment you realized you didn’t want to move away, finding yourself tucking your head further against his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep, the subsequent nap you took making up for the sleep you missed this morning.

#gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes x reader #reaper #reaper x reader #overwatch #modern au #overwatch au #sugar daddy au #sugar daddy!gabriel reyes x reader #sugar daddy!gabriel reyes #photographer!reader #my writing #brigitte lindholm #tracer #lena oxton #amelie lacroix #gerard lacroix

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writersrealmbts · 6 years ago

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Pretty Paper, Pretty Ribbons

Description: Christmas Story Raffle submission, Shattered Pieces series, kids with wrapping paper, ribbons, and enjoying big boxes more than presents. Christmas morning has arrived and there’s a lot to talk about, but the kids come first. Cuteness ensues.

Warnings: Use your own judgement

Posted: 01/03/19

Tags: hybrid bts, yoongi x reader

Fluffy and Melancholy: 5,329 words

A/N: Because of the story line, this part is absolutely loaded. I just, I kept writing. And writing. There were a couple of spots where I was like “awesome! we’re done...except I forgot to include this” so it’s just, it took a while. I had no intention of taking on all of the things that I did in this, but hopefully it feels satisfactory to you guys. There is a page break that hopefully works since I officially got my first complaint over the length of my stories when they appear on other people’s feed. I don’t want to say suck it up cupcake but I already did page breaks.

You curled into the warmth, sighing happily. You were perfectly cozy, and while your head felt fuzzy from crying last night you were still feeling really great. Lips pressed gently to your forehead. You kept your eyes closed, breathing in his scent. “Morning.” “Good morning. Merry Christmas,” He spoke lowly, thumb rubbing your arm softly. “Feeling better?” You nodded. “Kids awake yet?” “Are we being bounced on?” You laughed in your chest. “Not yet.” “Then they’re not up yet.” He stretched a little and then wrapped back around you. “So we can talk.” You hummed grumpily at the mention of talking. “But sleep…” “You’re already awake, and so am I. Besides…it’s important.” He pressed a soft kiss to your eyebrow. You slowly blinked, then blinked rapidly as you adjusted to the soft light that came in from the window. He looked amazing. His face slightly puffy from sleep, his hair an adorable mess, and his eyes only half-open with sleepiness gave you a sight that you wished you could snap a picture of and keep hostage for the rest of your life. It gave you such a warm, peaceful feeling. You touched his chest, noticing the quiet purr that emanated from him at your touch. “What did you want to talk about?” “Last night, today, tomorrow,” He listed them, shifting forward to wrap his arms around you again. “I want to talk about what—” The door swung open and someone came scurrying in, climbing up and then jumping on both of you. You groaned. “Merry Christmas to you too, Heiran.” She nuzzled between both of you, purring and chuffing and grinning excitedly. Yoongi grinned, cuddling her and placing kisses on her cheeks. “Merry Christmas, Heiran-ah.” She kissed him, then you, then pulled on your hands as Jihun came sliding in. “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” He fell, got back up, and ran over, not even registering your presence as he started pulling Yoongi from the bed. “Get up! Get up! It’s Christmas!” He then ran out of the room, slipping and sliding. You and Yoongi were laughing as you listened to him racing up and down the hall, yelling, “Everyone wake up, it’s Christmas! Wake up! Christmas!” “He’s excited. He’s actually excited! I don’t know what we’ll do if these gifts tank. Their first Christmas without their parents. They’re excited.” He leaned in and kissed you. “Of course they are. You’ve gotten them excited. Ready, Heirannie? Let’s go open presents!” You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back in for another kiss. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.” He smiled at you. “Merry Christmas.” You scooped up Heiran and carried her out into the hallway. Jihun came sliding to a stop, looking up at you with surprise. “Did you go past me?” You nodded. “Merry Christmas, Jihun-nie-bun.” He grinned and hugged you, then pressed a kiss to his sister’s cheek. You set the girl down so she could race over to Hoseok, who looked like he was still half-asleep. Jihun hugged your neck. “I’m trying.” “I’ll do my best to make it a good Christmas, honey,” You whispered, smiling. You pulled away to look at him. He met your eyes, looking somewhat confused. “Why do you smell like eomma?”

“I had to borrow some of her clothes. Is that okay?” You asked gently. He nodded rapidly. “Is it okay if I hug you and pretend it’s my mom?” His eyes filled with tears. You kissed his forehead and pulled him close again. “Hold on tight.” He wrapped around you as you lifted him. “Heiran, Jowoon, come here,” You called, noticing the toddler following his sister around. They both came running after you. You went into her room. The room Yoongi had showed you last night. You carried Jihun over to big papasan chair, you set him to your on side, pulling Heiran and Jowoon up with you. They were all cuddling into you. Jowoon’s eyes were huge, his nose twitching. “Eomma.” You opened the album. “I know you miss them, all three of you. Even if Jowoon doesn’t really understand.” Jowoon perked up more when he heard his name. “Me!” “Yes, you,” You leaned over and kissed his nose. He grinned and collapsed onto you with a purr. Heiran looked around. Her eyes landed on a huge picture of her parents together. She pointed, her little hand spelling out ‘appa’. “Yeah, baby, that’s your appa.” Jihun cuddled into you. “Shouldn’t we go open presents?” “We’re giving the others time to make breakfast,” You answered, kissing his cheek. “We have all day for presents. We can take a little while.” He nuzzled into you and the chair. “It smells just like her in here. Like she’s been here everyday.” “Your uncles have done their best to make sure this room is preserved for you kids. So that on days like today, you can come in here and just…breathe.” You smoothed his bedhead, gently rubbing over his ears. He chuffed softly, tucking his head into your neck. Heiran was still fixated on the picture of her parents. Then she frowned, her nose wrinkling. She pointed at you and then signed out Yoongi’s name. You tilted your head, uncertain what she meant. She touched her nose, pointed at you, then signed Yoongi’s name again. You just nodded. “Yeah, I smell a little like Yoongi today, don’t I?” She nodded, then moved Jowoon so could cuddle you and him, resting a hand Jihun’s arm. He took her hand, eyes still closed, breathing through his nose. He looked up at you and smiled softly. “Thanks, y/n.” You kissed his forehead again. “Breakfast is ready,” Namjoon called from the doorway, looking like he didn’t dare come any closer to the room. Jowoon gasped and scrambled off of your lap (almost falling on his head and making both you and the other two kids flinch forward to try and catch him) and raced over to Namjoon. “Up! Up please!” Namjoon chuckled and scooped him up. “Jin-hyung made bacon and sausage!” He told the enthusiastic toddler as he carried him away. Jihun looked conflicted. “Do you think Namjoon-hyung will drop him?” “Has he dropped him before?” “No, but dropped Heiran.” Heiran made a face, growling slightly and rubbing her forehead. “Well, we should go down as well and we can make sure that he doesn’t drop your brother. He’s very careful with all of you though, so I doubt that he’ll drop your brother.” Jihun wiggled off of your lap, then whipped around with huge eyes. “It’s Misuk’s first Christmas!” You nodded. “It is.” He grinned and raced out of the room. Heiran gasped and raced after him, signing for him to wait for her and that he couldn’t take all of the bacon. You carefully exited the room, closing it firmly behind you and turning the key that Yoongi had left in the lock for you. You stood in the hallway for a moment, then frowned and turned toward their old room. You went in, looking around carefully. You looked through the closet, not touching the fabric if you could help it. In the cabinets, in the dressers, the bathroom cabinets, then the nightstands and finally under the bed, collecting the things that were stashed away that were obviously for the kids. “Are those…” Jungkook choked. “She struck me as a planner. Plus…most of their birthdays fell right after their parent’s death. I figured you guys wouldn’t have been able to look through everything.” You looked through the cards that they both had written for the three older children, then the one that Jimin must have written for Misuk. The letters would have more meaning for the youngest three when they were older, so you set those aside, but you took Jihun’s because you knew he would want it. Just…maybe for later that day. “I just don’t know if this would make his Christmas better, or upset him and make Christmas harder.” Jungkook looked over the gifts that were already wrapped in birthday wrapping paper, labeled in both of their handwriting. The letters. He looked away, jaw trembling before going taut. “Wait until tonight.” You nodded, then put them all back in the suitcase under the bed that she had kept some of them in. He looked at you. “Jihun seems to be in a really good mood.” “He’s strong. He understands that if he acts sad, the other two will be sad. Come on, we should hurry. Maybe cover up your scent a bit, Jungkook. I’ve got a pumpkin pie to put in the oven.” He flashed you a smile. “You’re the best.” “Sometimes I wonder if I’m actually raising you too.” He laughed and followed you down to the breakfast table, where they hadn’t waited for you two (thankfully, nothing was worse than a hungry Jowoon except maybe a feverish Heiran). Jihun kept looking over at all of the presents, wiggling in his seat. A week ago you had gotten all of the men to sit down and tell you what Christmas was normally like for the kids. Which was rushing down and opening their stockings, then once everyone was ready the presents would be opened. Yoongi had been part of their Christmas since he moved in, and would read them three Christmas stories on Christmas eve (which he had also done last night, as planned), and then would watch the kids and play with them while their parents made breakfast. After breakfast they would get dressed and wait for the other men to arrive with their second round of gifts, followed by Christmas lunch. After that, the afternoon was more spontaneous. Anticipating that the kids would already be feeling like Christmas was different, you made slight alterations (such as breakfast before gifts) to the plan for the day so that they could pinpoint the changes other than their missing parents, but still kept the day mostly the same. They wouldn’t have two rounds of present opening since all of the men lived here now and already had their gifts to the kids under the tree, which was another change from what was normal for them. But you wanted to keep the rest as similar as you could to what they were used to. Finally, Heiran—the slowest eater—finished eating and looked at you with big eyes. “Presents?” You smiled at her and nodded, fighting your initial response of laughing in happiness at her actually speaking. “Yeah, Heirannie, let’s go open your stockings while Hoseok-oppa gets Misuk.” She purred loudly and slipped out of her chair, rushing over to the living room and getting her stocking. Jihun stared after her. “She spoke.” “Merry Christmas,” You said softly, quickly picking up Jowoon and following into the living room as well as Jihun and the other men process her speaking again. She was already starting in on opening her stocking, which was just some chocolate, a small stuffed animal, and some hair bows. She held up the bows to you, grinning. “You want one in your hair?” She nodded, pointing to a sparkly, red one. You put it in her hair for her, then took her picture so she could see it as well. She purred and then started playing with her new stuffed elephant, clipping two of her bows onto its ears, then hugging it tightly. She took it over to the tree, looking at the presents and making small sounds like she was talking with it. You sat with Jowoon, wiping his face with the washcloth that Jungkook brought you. “Messy baby.” “No’a baby,” He grumbled, but his gaze was fixed on the sparkly tree and presents. “Pretty.” Jihun set Jowoon’s stocking down beside you, then sat in front of you to open his stocking. He also had some candy, a new hat (he loved hats), and a couple figurines. He grinned up at you, then wrapped around your legs. “Thanks, y/n-noona!” “Those are the right candies, right?” He nodded, rubbing his face against your calf, then releasing and catching his sister to see what she got. Jowoon pulled everything out of his stocking, giggling as he pulled out a stuffed dog and hugging it tightly. “Puppy!” You smiled, putting everything back into his stocking. Hoseok brought Misuk out. She was awake and giggled as all three of her siblings gathered around her, giving her kisses and tickling her with their ears and tails. She was five months now, growing so quickly, and you were certain you’d have to carefully watch everyone to make sure she didn’t get spoiled rotten. The kids adored her, the men adored her, and she soaked up the attention like a sponge. Which was actually how most of the kids were. They basked in praise and attention, highly motivated to get praise and shrinking away from criticism. Punishments were the stuff of nightmares, for everyone involved. Thankfully the kids were generally well-behaved, and good natured. “We can open presents now?” You nodded and waved towards the tree. “Just remember to read the tags before you open presents.” He nodded and pulled presents toward people, dispersing some of them before settling with a smaller present of his own. You helped Jowoon open his present. He grabbed the paper and started playing with it, giggling. Then he gasped delightedly and pulled out a new sweater. “Wear now?” “In a bit, baby. There are more presents to open.” You gave him another box for him to tear apart delightedly. Heiran had gotten distracted by the ribbon around her first gift, getting Taehyung to tie the ribbon around her. “Should have just gotten her ribbons,” Jungkook giggled. “Didn’t want her accidentally choking herself, keep an eye on her with those ribbons,” You instructed carefully, helping Jowoon pull another plushie from the box. He squealed and crushed it in his arms. It was a lion plush and he buried his face in its mane. Heiran squealed even louder, climbing into the box and wiggling under the blanket. You all had wrapped some of the presents into boxes that the kids could fit into because they liked that sort of thing. They would take blankets or stuffed animals and crawl into small spaces and play or nap. Jihun laughed and looked into the box. “Heiran! Peekaboo!” She giggled and peeked up at him. He kissed her nose then stopped to stare at the biggest present. “That has my name on it…” “It does,” Namjoon replied. Hoseok started playing peekaboo with Heiran, and Jowoon when he scurried over and climbed into the box as well. Jihun tore through his other presents, excited about all of the toys and clothes, saving the big box for last. Seokjin had scooped Heiran up and directed her attention back to the presents some time ago. Jihun was looking around with a frown. “What’s wrong, Jihun?” You asked. He looked back at you, then back at the presents under the tree, separating them out without giving you an answer. He looked over all of them, then turned and looked at the men desperately. “Where’s y/n’s presents?” You blinked in surprise. “Oh, Jihun, I don’t need presents.” “But I got you a present! From me, Heiran-ah, Jowoon-ah, and Misuk-ah.” He kept looking, this time with the help of Jungkook and Taehyung. “It got wrapped, right?” Namjoon asked, handing Misuk to Yoongi to help with the search. You shook your head a bit. “Don’t worry about it.” “Taehyung, you had her gifts, right?” “Gifts? Plural?” You asked, not that anyone was listening to you. Taehyung shook his head. “We put them in Seokjin-hyung’s room because I was hiding other presents and didn’t have the space.” “I’ll go check my room,” Jin said, directing Heiran toward Hoseok and then loping out of the room. You tilted your head, trying to wrap your head around the plurality of the word. One gift from the kids you could understand. But other gifts as well? Sure, you had gotten gifts for all of them, but you had no idea that they actually thought to get you gifts as well. Yoongi slid over to sit beside you. “So, that conversation…” “Right now?” You asked in a whisper. “Well,” he put a present on your leg, “you could open that first. But I think it’s going to take them a while. I told them not to forget to wrap them but bath time after you left was…a trial.” You stared at the present for a second, then picked it up and unwrapped it. “I should have said something after Thanksgiving. I’m not good at expressing things.” You opened the box and smiled at the simple but beautiful necklace. You pulled it out and admired it closer. “I…I want to be with you.” You bit your lip, still looking down at the necklace. You knew if you looked at him he might chicken out. “I know we haven’t really courted or gone on dates, but we’re already living in the same house. You take care of me. I try to take care of you. I’ve done a really bad job of it so far. I’ll work on being better. Starting every night. You take the brunt of the burden and I want you to be able to rely on me.” You couldn’t help the purr that erupted from your chest. “Okay.” “O-okay?” You looked at him, smiling softly. “I’d like that.” He grinned back at you, a little embarrassed, and partially hiding behind Misuk. “Okay.” You put the necklace on, then took his hand. “Jihun, why don’t you help Jowoon and Heiran open their big presents.” He nodded, looking a little upset, but he led Jowoon over to rip the wrapping paper off of the big box in front of him. Jungkook cut the tape for them. Jowoon got a hand into the box and his eyes got huge. He wiggled through as soon as the opening was big enough and then pulled the flaps closed behind him, hissing when Jihun tried to open it back up. Jihun looked back at you, amused and bewildered. You laughed. “Jowoon! What did you get? Can you show me, baby?” It was quiet for a moment, then he dragged the stuffed dog that was bigger than him out of the box. His fur was fluffed out and his hair was a static-y mess, he held the dog’s head in a death grip, shivering with excitement. “Puppy,” He breathed, tail straight up in the air with his excitement. Heiran hurriedly ripped into hers. She gasped loudly and dove into the box, purring loudly. Jihun laughed and tilted her box so that he could drag her and her huge white tiger plush out of the box. It was the same size as her and she was clearly pleased, not letting go as she was pulled out. She just collapsed into Jihun’s lap with the stuffy on top of her. Jowoon was busy pulling the dog back into the box behind him. Jihun finally went to the big box and tore the paper off of it, then managed to get the tape up and open the flaps. He grinned and crawled into it. “Thank you!” You laughed, leaning onto Yoongi’s shoulder. You knew that Jihun would love getting boxes and it had taken you a while to just find the box, which was a refrigerator box. You had packed some new art supplies in there, a fluffy blanket, and a stuffed animal pillow. It would occupy his free time for at least a week, if not longer. “I don’t think we needed to get them any other gifts,” Namjoon said, laughing. Heiran ran around collecting all of the ribbons and then stashing them into her box, then she went to each of the adults and gave them kisses, ending with Hoseok. He chuckled and gave her three more kisses. “Merry Christmas, Heirannie.” “Merry Christmas, Hobi,” She squeaked out, with a eye and nose scrunching grin before curling up in his arms. He cuddled her closely, pressing kisses all over her face. “I love you, Heiran. I love you, I love you, I love you.” She giggled and wiggled in his grasp. “Love you.” “We all love you,” Taehyung said, snatching her from Hoseok (who screeched in protest) and nuzzled into her, his tail wagging a mile a minute. You barely registered when Yoongi handed Misuk to you to take a call, enjoying watching all of the boys (Seokjin had returned with your gifts in bags and plain boxes just as she spoke) fawn over her while she looked at them with giggled, oblivious to why they were so excited but soaking up the love, praise, and attention. Jowoon came over, handing you your gifts like he had seen Jihun doing for everyone else. Yoongi suddenly came back, plucking Misuk from your grasp and handing her off to a very surprised Hoseok, then pulled you out of the room. “What’s wrong?” You asked, worried by his behavior. He met your eyes. “My story. The one I wasn’t supposed to be pursuing.” “The one about their parents that I’ve been covering for you over?” He nodded. “It led to their killers. Exposes them. And my boss is running it, as is every other publisher in the town after he made some calls. The police arrested them. The government just submitted a bill for human rights to be restored. It went into voting yesterday. I didn’t want to say anything until it was finalized but…it passed. It passed. And they’re caught.” You stared for a moment. “So…that’s good…right?” He laughed, smiling and nodding. Tears filled his eyes. You quickly hugged him. “It’s over?” “It’s getting there. I got justice for them. I did it the right way. Like they would want.” He held onto you tightly for a short while, then pulled away. “I don’t know how to tell them.” “I’ll tell them. Later. Jihun is the only one of the kids who will understand right now, but when it is published, we’ll take clippings and when they’re old enough to be curious and understand, we’ll tell them. Okay?” He nodded, then kissed you. He held you gently but firmly as his lips molded against yours, and his tail wrapped around to catch your tail, twining it with yours and pulling you close to him. When he pulled away, he looked into your eyes. “As much as I miss them and it hurts, and I hate that the kids lost their parents are hurt…I’m so glad I met you.” “I’m glad I met you, too.” You kissed him. “Circumstances are terrible, but…I feel at home here. I haven’t felt at home anywhere since I was a teenager. Now, we should go back before they start worrying needlessly.” He nodded. “Okay, stay close to me?” You nodded, holding onto him as you both strolled back to the living room and sat down. Jowoon hurried over to you, grinning big. “Hi.” “Hi,” You responded, placing a kiss on his expectant lips. “I love you.” You giggled with him. “I love you too.” He ran off. Heiran came over and cuddled into your lap as well as Yoongi’s, she purred loudly and happily, then sat up touched your face. “Eomma and Appa aren’t coming back,” She said quietly, purr gone and voice a little sad. “No, Heiran-ah. They aren’t,” You replied softly, stroking her hair. She nodded, then looked up at Yoongi. “Then who’s going to be my parents?” “Well, you have all of us,” Yoongi said, looking to you and the other men for support. “Do you think you need new parents?” You asked carefully, wondering if she would continue talking. She seemed inclined to do so, but you were so used to signing and interpreting her mewls and purrs. You just wanted her to be happy. She frowned, then hissed lightly and curled into the space between both of you. She was pouting, probably unable to figure out how to express her thoughts and feelings. She put your hands on her head, butting into it and letting you smooth her ears with her hair as well until she was chuffing softly. Jihun was distracted playing in the big box with Jowoon, so all of the men came over, forming a semi-circle around Heiran. “Heiran, we want you be happy. Do you want to have one of us to be your dad?” Taehyung asked softly, playing with her foot lovingly. She hummed thoughtfully, looking up at you with an expression you didn’t understand. She crawled fully into your lap. “Jihun!” His head popped out of the box and he looked over, smiling. “Yeah?” She glanced up at you again, then slid off of your lap. “Fam’ly meetin’” She ran over to the box and they both disappeared inside. They were talking quietly and you were surprised at how well the box muffled their conversation. Hoseok shook his head. “She’s talking like she never stopped.” You nodded. “Whatever makes her happiest. If she’s at the point where she feels comfortable talking again, then we need to make sure not to discourage her from expressing herself in whatever way she feels comfortable. Sign language, or spoken words.” They all nodded as well. “So, when did you and Yoongi get together?” Jin asked, bunny ear swiveling towards the box where the kids were. “Last night. Keep up, hyung.” Taehyung grinned evilly. Namjoon and Jungkook both looked a little shocked. Jin rolled his eyes. “Sorry I decided to get what sleep I could. I’ve been on baby duty, remember?” Hoseok nodded. “Don’t worry, it’s my turn tonight. You’ll get to sleep the night through. Besides, I’m not surprised. Yoongi can’t stop purring whenever she comes into the room. He’s gotten way cleaner since she came along too, and is twice as attentive to fixing things around the house.” You smiled and looked at him. He let out a sort of screech of embarrassment. “Yah, shut up!” Jihun crawled out of the box, standing up and waiting for both of his siblings. He held their hands and led them over (Jowoon hopping along, giggly and oblivious to the seriousness of his siblings). You smiled encouragingly at them. He took a breath, glancing down at his sister, then at you. “We just want you kids to be happy and healthy,” You told him, nodding for him to speak his mind. The seven year old bit his lip, then took a deep breath. “Eomma and Appa…they’re gone. We don’t…we don’t intend to replace them. But…” He kept glancing at you. “We don’t know who our actual legal guardian is. She wants to be able to turn to someone as parental figures. We know that Misuk…and Jowoon…they need parents. They should know what it’s like to have parents.” Namjoon nodded. “Well, your parents will left your care to your godparents. For you, Jihun, that’s Hoseok and Seokjin. For Heiran it’s Hoseok and Yoongi. Jowoon had Yoongi and Seokjin. And Misuk had Jungkook and Me. But they also always said that Hoseok would get custody of you all if something happened to them, with Yoongi and Seokjin also having legal presence in your life. He’s the legally appointed guardian.” Hoseok nodded, cradling Misuk. Jihun nodded. “Okay. But…” Hoseok smiled at him. “It’s not the same as having parent that are united. Together.” Jihun nodded slowly. He handed Misuk to Jungkook, then pulled Jihun and Heiran into his arms. “Well, how about we say this: when it comes to things that you and Heiran need a parent for, I’ll be the one to take care of it all. When you go to public school, if you decide you want to go to public school and you need a signature on a permission slip, I’ll be the parent to do that. I’ll love you two with all I’ve got. But when you need a mom…” He trailed off, glancing at you. You looked at Yoongi. He smiled shyly, then nodded, looking down. You nodded to Hoseok. “Then y/n is there for you. And her and Yoongi will be the parental figures for Jowoon and Misuk. It’s going to be a little messy and confusing, but we’re all here for you guys. How does that sound?” Jihun looked at Heiran. She blinked at him, looking a little lost. Her five-year-old mind was lost where his seven-year-old mind had managed to keep up. You let go of Yoongi’s hand and stroked her hair to gain her attention. She purred softly, leaning into your touch. “Hoseok-oppa will be your dad, and I’ll be your mom. Is that okay, Heiran-ah?” You asked softly. “Jowoon and Misuk will probably call Yoongi dad instead. Is that okay?” She thought about it, then wiggled out of Hoseok’s arms and flung herself into your arms with a purr. You figured that meant yes. Yoongi met your gaze. Jihun sighed. “Okay. Okay.” He cuddled up into Hoseok’s arms. He looked so small. Jowoon, blissfully ignorant, crawled into Seokjin’s lap, playing with the man’s bunny ears. “We’d call you mom and dad,” Jihun clarified. Everyone nodded. He bit his lip, looking at you. “You’re staying?” You nodded, smiling up at Yoongi. “Yeah. I’m staying. I’ve found my family.” Yoongi leaned down and kissed you on what had to have been impulse given his shyness. In fact, he turned pretty red after doing so. That’s when Jihun seemed to process what Hoseok and you had said about you and Yoongi being the parental figures for his youngest siblings. He slowly grinned, eyes lighting up. “You’re really staying?!” “Well, you see, there are these four little cubs that just wiggled and chuffed their way into my heart,” You told him, leaning over and rubbing your nose against his awaiting nose. He giggled and then sat back into Hoseok’s arms, purring happily, all the weight seeming to pull off of his shoulders. “You’re staying.” “I’ve grown pretty attached,” You replied, nuzzling Heiran when she protested at not getting nuzzles when her brother did. “Besides, I basically already live here and I worry about you when I’m away. You’re my babies now.” He crawled over to you wiggling into your arms alongside his sister. “Okay, mom. Eomma would have liked that you were here to take care of us when she couldn’t.” You were surprised at his use of the word, but more surprised at how warm and fuzzy you felt. How much your attachment to them seemed to solidify, and strengthen. You had basically adopted them already, but having it acknowledged felt like the best thing in the world after your relationship with Yoongi. “They were caught,” Yoongi said suddenly, breaking the silence. “The people who did this. They were caught.” “You—” Seokjin cut himself off before he started yelling. He took a deep breath and then released it. “Your story?” Jihun was peeking over at Yoongi. Yoongi nodded. “Getting published. By everyone. They were caught. They’re in jail.” Everyone seemed to shift closer together, closer to you and the kids. Yoongi had dropped to the floor, putting an arm around you. Jungkook was on your other side, he’d basically fallen into a little-brother relationship with you after your first week with them and only had a little hesitance when he leaned against your shoulder, still holding a sleeping Misuk. Jowoon realized it was group cuddle time and hurried over to his siblings, collapsing on them and Yoongi. Tae followed suit, pulling Jin, who pulled Hoseok, who pulled Namjoon into it. You purred softly under the pile of kittens. You still had a pile of presents, but you felt like everything would pale in comparison to this.

Masterpost. Masterlist. Previous Part. Next Part.

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