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kurowrites · 4 years ago

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The Live-In Boyfriend - Chapter 10: Lullaby for Wei Ying

Wei Ying knew Lan Zhan well enough by now that he also knew about certain peculiarities that he had. Not that these peculiarities detracted anything from Lan Zhan’s general… everything. On the contrary, these little peculiarities added something to him that made him irresistible.

One thing Wei Ying found interesting, for example, was that it was quite difficult to get Lan Zhan into a relaxed mood. He was generally a calm and controlled person, and even when they had sex and Lan Zhan showed a rather wild side of himself, Wei Ying would never be able to describe that as uncontrolled. Whatever Lan Zhan did, he did it with a certain intent and gravity. However, once he reached a certain state of relaxation, Lan Zhan turned out to not only be remarkably agreeable, but also playful. He would even indulge any of Wei Ying’s stupid questions.

The only difficulty was, of course, to get him there.

So when they were in the living room one day, with Wei Ying lazily lounging on the sofa while Lan Zhan was reading something, Wei Ying felt that his chance had come. Lan Zhan was sitting with Wei Ying’s head in his lap, and he was absentmindedly petting Wei Ying’s hair, a sense of ease around him that could only come from the fact that he was completely on break right now, physically as well as mentally. Wei Ying figured that Lan Zhan was just in the right mood to bear a little teasing from him.

“Say, Lan Zhan,” he said aloud.

Lan Zhan made a soft noise to signal that he was listening, and kept stroking Wei Ying’s hair.

“What’s your favourite animal?”

Lan Zhan stopped his movements for a moment and looked down at Wei Ying, probably trying to gauge the meaning of this sudden question. After a moment, he turned back to his book and put his hand back into Wei Ying’s hair. (Wei Ying wasn’t going to lie: he loved being petted by Lan Zhan, so that was a definite plus.)

“Rabbits,” he eventually replied.

That… that was a surprisingly cute choice, Wei Ying thought a little stunned. He didn’t quite know what he had expected Lan Zhan to answer, but rabbits definitely hadn’t been on the top of his list.

The thought of Lan Zhan and rabbits was a little incongruous, but after a moment of consideration… it was also very cute. Lan Zhan and a fluffy bunny. He was always such a careful person, so he would probably gently take the bunny, put it on his lap, and then stroke him with controlled, slow movements until the rabbit would fall asleep from all that careful petting. He could see it in his imagination. Well, that was something he definitely wanted to see in real life. Lan Zhan and bunnies.

“Wise choice,” he said aloud. “They are rather delicious.”

Lan Zhan sent him a stern look, one that clearly threatened the withholding of any more pettings unless Wei Ying took those words back.

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” Wei Ying exclaimed, quick to reassure Lan Zhan even as he was laughing. “I’m obviously joking. No eating the rabbits that Lan Zhan likes so much, I promise.”

That seemed to mollify Lan Zhan somewhat, and he thankfully didn’t remove his wonderful hand from Wei Ying’s hair.

“Wei Ying?”

“Huh?”

“What is Wei Ying’s favourite?” Lan Zhan repeated the question.

“Oh.” Wei Ying considered the question for a moment. “I don’t really think I have one that I prefer over all the others. I mean, rabbits are very cute, but so are cats and some birds and alpacas, and red pandas, and… well, I can tell you what I definitely don’t like: I hate dogs. I hope you will understand that this apartment is and forever will be a dog-free zone as long as I live here.”

“Why?”

Wei Ying looked up at Lan Zhan and found him looking back.

“What do you mean, why?”

“Many people like dogs. Many people own dogs. So, why.”

Wei Ying sighed heavily. “So you want me to confess my uncoolness? Fine. I got maimed by a dog once, and I don’t trust them not to try that a second time. Ergo, no dogs.”

Lan Zhan made a noise that might have been agreement or consideration, Wei Ying wasn’t entirely sure. But he didn’t ask about how Wei Ying had ended up in between the jaws of a dog, and Wei Ying was honestly glad that he didn’t. He hated even thinking about it, much less talking about it.

Instead, Lan Zhan declared, “No dogs. We can have rabbits instead. They are much better.”

“Haha, are you planning on getting a pet now?” Wei Ying teased. “You already have me! You should pay attention to me!”

He playfully pouted at Lan Zhan. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, too. After all, he kind of was Lan Zhan’s pet. At least, Lan Zhan took care of him, and gave him food and everything else he needed to live. So really, Lan Zhan was kind of keeping him. Not that Wei Ying minded that. After all, Lan Zhan had saved him from homelessness. And without knowing it, too.

He wriggled around until he could sit up and placed himself in Lan Zhan’s lap, wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s wonderful, strong shoulders.

“You’re not planning to replace me with a few fluffy rabbits, are you?” he asked, still fake-pouting.

“No,” Lan Zhan replied gravely. “Not replacing Wei Ying. I have always wanted to keep rabbits.”

That was, again, unexpectedly cute. But then again, a lot of things about Lan Zhan were unexpectedly cute. Like the way he frowned when he tuned his guqin and one of the strings wasn’t quite right. Or how hopeful and expectant he looked whenever he came through the door of the apartment and Wei Ying ran to the door to welcome him back with a kiss. The way he always made sure that Wei Ying was eating properly, and pushed food onto his plate when he thought he wasn’t.

“Hmmm, okay,” Wei Ying decided. “Lan Zhan should have all the bunnies he wants. And if they are too many, I can make rabbit stew.”

He laughed at Lan Zhan’s frowny face, and climbed off of Lan Zhan’s lap to go to the kitchen and prepare some conciliatory tea.

That was another thing that made Lan Zhan unbearably cute. Give frowny him some good, fresh tea, and all seemed to be forgiven. It made Wei Ying want to tease him even more.

---

A little while after Wei Ying’s first official family appearance as Lan Zhan’s boyfriend, Lan Zhan announced that he was required to attend an event at university and hoped that Wei Ying would be able to accompany him. Wei Ying was quick to say yes, not just because it was his job, but also because he was kind of curious to see Lan Zhan in a professional setting.

He felt that Lan Zhan must be well-respected among his peers, but then, it was difficult to imagine that anyone wouldn’t respect Lan Zhan. He was very respectable. The respectable-est. So, Wei Ying was curious to see how his colleagues actually acted around him.

Which was how Wei Ying found himself in another suit made by Bai Jun, and took the metro to Gusu University to meet up with Lan Zhan after Lan Zhan had finished work at 5 pm. Since Lan Zhan always walked around in an impeccable suit when he was at work, he didn’t really need to change clothes, but Wei Ying brought him a different tie to wear, anyway.

He thought it would be a nice gesture.

I he was honest, he would have to admit that he felt a little nervous about meeting Lan Zhan’s colleagues. He felt the need to make a good impression, not for his own sake, but for Lan Zhan’s. If Lan Zhan was as respected as Wei Ying guessed he was, Wei Ying didn’t want to be the reason for criticism.

Lan Zhan himself seemed entirely unconcerned about such a thing, though. He simply took the offered tie with a word of thanks, changed it with his work tie, and then steered Wei Ying towards one of the central buildings on campus where the event was supposed to take place.

When they arrived, quite a few people were there already, milling about in a tastefully decorated hall Wei Ying had never been in when he had studied here. Dispersed among the crowd were servers carrying around large trays filled with drinks and small appetizers.

While Lan Zhan went for his usual water, he made sure to get Wei Ying a very good glass of red wine, and then navigated him through the crowd towards where Lan Huan was already talking to several elderly gentlemen.

Lan Huan smiled at them as he caught sight of their approaching forms.

“It is good to see you again, Wei Ying,” he told Wei Ying in welcome before he introduced him to the men he had been talking to (and whose names and function Wei Ying forgot as soon as he had been told).

That was more or less how the evening progressed. All kinds of people came up to Lan Zhan and talked to him for a few minutes, and Lan Zhan introduced Wei Ying to those he apparently deemed worthy of such an introduction. He made sure that Wei Ying was well-supplied with snack and drinks, and occasionally kept him entertained during (usually very boring) speeches that were apparently thought necessary.

“Is it always like this?” Wei Ying asked quietly after an hour or so. “I’m starting to see why you don’t want to go alone to these events.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “Occasionally there are guests that are worth the conversation.”

“Aiyoo,” Wei Ying cried and laughed. “What a harsh assessment, Lan Zhan! Now I hope I am considered to be worth the conversation.”

“Wei Ying is always worth the conversation,” Lan Zhan declared, and well.

That was that, apparently.

And Wei Ying definitely wasn’t blushing at that comment.

---

Wei Ying had to use the restroom once after indulging in the good wine that was served here, so he got separated from Lan Zhan for a little while. As he was making his way back to Lan Zhan, he happened to come across several people who were gossiping loudly – gossiping loudly, that was, about no one other than him.

“I can’t understand how someone from the Lan family can find it acceptable to date someone like that. Just look at the hair! And the way he keeps sticking to Lan Zhan. So unrefined! Completely unfitting for someone like Lan Zhan.”

“Well, there’s probably an easy explanation for that – he probably has certain abilities that Lan Zhan approves of.”

Several people in the group laughed.

“I think what you’re trying to say it that he’s a slut and good at spreading his legs.”

That opinion was followed with more laughter.

Wei Ying was trying hard not to pay the talk any mind, since he knew very well that it was ridiculous to be bothered by things like that. There was bound to be gossip. Lan Zhan had been open about his homosexuality for years now, that much Wei Ying new from the newspaper articles he had read, but he had never openly dated anyone. The sudden appearance of a boyfriend was certainly going to catch the attention of idle gossips like these.

What hurt him a little was that he couldn’t exactly deny what they had said. Compared to Lan Zhan, he was uneducated, and honestly, he was pretty good when it came to spreading his legs. At least where Lan Zhan was concerned. Not that this was a problem. Almost anyone so inclined would be ready to enthusiastically spread their legs when it came to Lan Zhan, really. The thing was, he wasn’t Lan Zhan’s real boyfriend, and therefore certainly wasn’t together with him just for the sake of being together with him. They had an agreement that involved money. And that didn’t really make him look like the morally superior person here.

All in all, it wasn’t worth to get upset over it, he decided. What was between them was between them, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, and no one else.

He passed the group of gossipers with his head held high, and delighted in the way Lan Zhan turned around as soon as Wei Ying was in his vicinity, offering him his arm with practiced ease.

Sure, the gossips might think him a slut and a boor. They would probably call him a whore too if they knew about his arrangement with Lan Zhan. But it was still him that Lan Zhan had chosen, and not any of them. And it was him that Lan Zhan would go home with tonight. So really, who was the winner here?

He smiled up at Lan Zhan and carefully didn’t tell him what he’d just heard.

He tried to forget about the gossips, but the gossips were unable to forget about him, it seemed. It didn’t take very long until one of the gossipers that Wei Ying had seen earlier approached them.

He didn’t make a particularly mean impression, purely judging from his appearance. He was good-looking in a rather bland way, his most striking feature being that nothing about him was particularly striking, and that there was a certain roundness about him that softened his expressions. The man started to talk to Lan Zhan, but Wei Ying wasn’t particularly intent on making his acquaintance, so he mostly nodded politely as they were introduced, and then tuned the conversation out as soon as he wasn’t spoken to directly.

He returned to actually listening when the topic of conversation once again turned to him.

“We were all rather surprised, Professor Lan, when you brought someone with you tonight. We didn’t know you were taken.”

Wei Ying tried hard not to read anything malicious into that comment, but the urge to make a sharp comeback was strong.

Lan Zhan, on the other hand, was slow in this reply. He looked at the other man for several long moments and made him squirm in discomfort, before he finally deigned to reply.

“I wanted to make sure that this relationship is steady, and that Wei Ying is comfortable, before I introduce him,” he said.

Wei Ying tried to suppress a grin. He didn’t know if Lan Zhan had somehow managed to divine the bad intent behind the speaker’s words, but leave it to him to say just as much, if not more, in one single sentence. He hadn’t just suggested that this relationship had been going on for a while now, he had also asserted that they were both serious about it and that Lan Zhan was a doting boyfriend who took care of his lover properly.

That had to sting, particularly after everything the gossips had been saying. Not that it mattered. But it still felt very satisfying, as it always did when Lan Zhan demonstrated that he cared about Wei Ying’s wellbeing.

“I-” the other man stuttered, apparently a little disconcerted by Lan Zhan’s straightforward answer. “I see, that is very lovely. You make a good couple.”

Liar, Wei Ying thought.

He suddenly saw it with perfect clarity. This man wanted to stand next to Lan Zhan exactly the way Wei Ying was doing it right now.

Honestly, the sentiment wasn’t particularly surprising. He’d thought about it before. After all, Lan Zhan was an eligible bachelor, with an excellent pedigree, and a powerful family backing him. His brother was the director of the university. His uncle was the major. Merely on that account, many would consider Lan Zhan a desirable match. But he was also beautiful, intelligent, disciplined, and skilled in many things. He was quiet, but willing to listen and help if needed. If he weren’t openly gay, women probably wouldn’t leave him alone. As it was, there were enough men who hoped for a chance with the incomparable Lan Zhan. And this one was certainly one of them.

What a pity for him that Lan Zhan had absolutely no interest in him, and that Wei Ying was already in that place he coveted so much. It was too bad, really, but Wei Ying couldn’t really feel any compassion after he had been described as a slut who only knew how to spread his legs for Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan is a very caring partner,” he said out loud, smiling up at Lan Zhan innocently. “I was very lucky to meet and fall in love with him.”

The man looked like he was ready to bite off his own tongue, but he eventually just nodded and smiled politely.

Good riddance, Wei Ying thought uncharitably once he finally left. And don’t you come back.

Despite that little incident, the evening turned out pleasant, with most guests being much better behaved than the troupe of gossips. Still, once Lan Zhan finally called it a night and drove them back to the apartment, Wei Ying felt tired. He had never been much of a schmoozer, and these few hours had been more than enough. He was looking forward to returning home and having Lan Zhan all for himself, now.

Still, though. He couldn’t quite forget the label that the gossip circle had christened him with.

Slut.

The word didn’t hurt him so much as that it made him wonder what exactly they were doing here. When did Lan Zhan plan to break up with him? And was it okay to continue like that until then? He knew that they had started this relationship with a simple deal that would benefit them both, but the longer they had been together, the more Wei Ying had started to believe that Lan Zhan deserved actual happiness. Of course, Lan Zhan had told him in the beginning that he wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Wei Ying still thought that Lan Zhan deserved everything. More than the fake relationship he was acting out with Wei Ying. More than pretending to be in love. An actual boyfriend, who would always love him. Not Wei Ying, and whatever Wei Ying was.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asked as he parked the car in the parking garage of their apartment. “Is everything alright?”

Wei Ying smiled at him, careful to make it a little tired. “Yes, sorry, I’m just tired. I haven’t been around this many people for a while now. Will you play me something before we sleep? I want to wind down a little before I go to sleep.”

The request for music seemed to allay Lan Zhan’s worries.

“Hn,” he readily agreed, and put his arm around Wei Ying to guide him to the elevator. “Lullaby for Wei Ying.”

There was a tiny uptick at the corner of his mouth, and Wei Ying realised that he was being teased.

With his surprised laughter resonating in the parking garage, the doors of the elevator closed quietly, and carried them up to their home.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #live-in boyfriend AU

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alilbihh · 5 years ago

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hocus pocus — 3

masterlist previous part next part

pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both.

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 14k

There’s a caw by your window, a fluttering of feathers. A knock on the glass. You lift your head warily, eyes squinted, still stuck in a sort of dissociative post-morning state. One, two.. Eight. There are eight crows outside your window.

Crows are often seen as bad luck, omens of death - but people forget they could mean good news. Upcoming wealth. New beginnings.

You watch them for a long while, still under the comforting weight of your quilt, until there’s a sound and the flock flies away with a flourish.

There are eight crows by your window. A sign of a life altering experience soon to cross your path.

You close your eyes and burrow deeper into your pillow.

You think you fall in love the same way you fell into Petz. Accidentally and while making a fool of yourself.

Namjoon comes running over, phone in hand. He frowns. “Did you just trip and I didn’t see? Dammit. This is what happens when I volunteer to take cute pictures of puppies for Jin-hyung. Do it again.”

“I will not.” You say as you right yourself, walking inside the pet store properly this time. Namjoon steps inside behind you, cleaning his shoes over the carpet for more time than necessary.

The pet store is large and cozy and has puppies. It’s everything you expected but you’re still caught by surprise. Namjoon looks around in wonder, only really here under the pretense of wanting a fish but when you turn he’s cooing at a barking labrador, his hands and cheek pressed to the glass.

“Do you think Kimbap would mind if we got a dog?”

Your brows furrow, watching the labrador from beside Namjoon. The dog paws at the glass, and Namjoon boops at where its nose is.

“Kimbap is a cat.”

“He is.” Is all Namjoon says and that’s that.

You leave him to his fantasies as you walk around, not a worker in sight. No one in sight, really. By now you’d expected to be jumped by someone with a Petz logo on their shirt and convinced to buy an entire alpaca farm and multiple chew toys for a dog you don’t even have, but it’s completely void of people.

You pass by puppy cages and reptile tanks and find the fish, too, before you find a single person. You wonder if you came to the wrong pet store. Jimin said he volunteers here, but maybe it’s another Petz entirely. You suddenly hear a commotion somewhere in the back rooms, so you head there, hoping to find someone.

And you do find someone. His back is facing you and there’s no logo on his shirt but there are, like, three to four kittens clinging to his arms, so he’s either thinking of adopting all of them or you’re witnessing the beginning of an abduction.

The kittens are clutching at his arms and emitting tiny meows as he sets them into their little cat houses, muttering something to them but you can’t make out the soft words and you’re distantly aware you’re staring. Not just at the kitten’s heads poking out through the arms but at like- the actual arms. They’re tanned and muscular and have kittens on them. This is just devastating.

He looks up and straightens and it’s three seconds before he turns to you that you notice the antlers on his head and the boxy smile. Oh no.

The boy suddenly stands as straight as a board as his eyes meet yours. His hair is as blue as the ocean he loves so much. There’s a streak of kohl over his lashes that’s a bit smudged on one side, as though he forgot about it and wiped his eye.

There’s only one kitten on his arm now, black fur tipped with brown and almost dozing off, all curled up and comfy. He raises its paw in a little wave. “Hi.”

You don’t know what to do. He doesn’t mention that he knows you, doesn’t even look too surprised, only smiles like this was inevitable. It makes you smile, too. “Hi.”

“Are you here to adopt?” He says- Taehyung says, your mind supplies even though you didn’t ask it to- tickling at the kitten’s tummy as he does, “A kitten, maybe?”

No you are not, you’re definitely not. "Um. Maybe,“ you answer, stepping in closer.

Taehyung stares at the kitten cradled in his chest for a little while longer before turning, gingerly placing it with the rest. He brushes a finger lightly over its head before stepping back and you’re now absolutely devastated.

The boy bites at his lower lip, considering you with narrowed eyes. "A reptile, maybe..” He mutters, more to himself than anything. “Come!”

He takes your hand, quick and excited but soft as he tangles his fingers between yours. Good god.

The deer hybrid leads you to the reptile tanks, pauses by one, tap tap taps at the glass and you both watch as one of its inhabitants comes padding out with surprising agility.

“That’s Guac! She’s a bearded dragon and is also very much pregnant. Me and Jiminie consider stealing her every day.”

You laugh, staring at the reptile’s beady eyes as she blinks, one eye then the other. “She’s pregnant?” Guac doesn’t look at all pregnant at first glance, but there’s a slight bump on her stomach that you have to squint to even notice.

“I was surprised too! She was alone in her enclosure and we still have no idea how the dude got in there to impregnate her. Kookie said something about horniness surpassing all boundaries, but, well. I have no comment on that.”

“He is a menace I am so sorry.” You say but you’re laughing and it makes him laugh, too. “You know Guk?”

Taehyung makes a soft sound as he opens the enclosure, like a hum and a yeah all rolled into one. You watch as he picks up Guac as he would the kittens, soft and gentle and fond. You think he’s like that with everything. You think you’re looking at him like that, too. “Kook visits every so often. He’s cute and funny and has a boopable nose and gave me a rock. Oh!” He startles, raises a hand over his mouth. “Not a rock. Sorry. Crystal,” he corrects.

He’s rocking the bearded dragon softly like he would a baby, bouncing it lightly in his arms. Guac doesn’t seem to mind. You’re fully endeared.

“Did Guk tell you that?” You tickle under Guac’s chin and it makes Taehyung giggle.

“Yeah,” he smiles, bordering on fond. Kisses Guac’s head before placing her back in the tank, watching as she scampers back to the little cave by the corner. Too fast for a pregnant lady, you think, but who are you to judge. “He talks about you a lot, you know,” He whispers, like you’re being let in on a secret. Turns to you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

You don’t know what to say to that and you don’t want to regret it if you do, so you only nod.

There’s a shout and Taehyung’s head jerks up, smiles something wide and giddy, spots Jimin before even you do. He dashes past you before he’s jumping half on Jimin, tugging him towards you, and then jumping half on you too for no reason except maybe that he can, pulls Jimin in for a soft kiss that goes long and flushes both their cheeks and leaves them both breathless and giggly and there it is-

a little pang.

You scratch at your chest, look around, spot Namjoon idling by the tanks where a school of fish whiz by. Namjoon’s a doctor. A sorta-doctor. An actual witch. A little bit of a seer, if he thinks hard. He knows cardiac arrest and medicine and sickness symptoms and the like. He’ll know you’re dying.

Or he’ll catch you staring, turn, and send suggestive eyebrow raises before scampering back towards the puppy section. Great. Amazing.

“You look happy,” Is all Yoongi says as you slam your stack of books onto the table, sitting opposite him with a huff. He looks soft today, an earring shining from the peak of one pointed ear.

He’s joking, he has to be. Your clothes are a wrinkly mess and your hair’s disheveled and you think you need, like, a mint. Maybe two. But he’s looking at you like he knows something that you don’t. So you don’t say anything, only blow a few raspberries in his direction.

You open a spell book, skimming through it with hasty eyes. The photographic memory potion would be really useful right now, its side effects maybe even more.

“Don’t you have finals soon?” Namjoon mutters beside you, and you look up with a start because you hadn’t even seen him get here.

When did he get here. “When did you get here?” You ask out loud.

“I was always here,” is all he says. You think you’re in a fever dream but you’re not too sure.

“Huh,” You breathe out, looking into the distance.

You look back down at your book. Phoenix feathers, lemon, dragon liver… Dirt? Graveyard dirt? Where are you supposed to get graveyard dirt?

“Namjoon. Joonie. Buddy ole pal.” Looking up at the man from beneath your lashes, you flutter them a bit for a better effect. The man, very much gay and very much in a committed relationship, doesn’t really look amused. “Do you wanna go to a graveyard with me?”

Yoongi looks up with a start, “Oh shit, who are we killing? Who are we burying?”

“What? No one, you absolute heathen. I need it for a potion. Witchipedia says so.”

“It’s not a reliable source,” Namjoon exclaims with a frown. “I gave up on it after it made me burn my frying pan.”

“How does one burn a frying pan,” You deadpan. The man shrugs.

It’s as you’re flipping through pages absentmindedly that your thoughts stray to your dinner not-date. Should you bring drinks? You should probably bring drinks. You wonder what kind of drinks they like.

“Should I bring drinks?” You mutter out loud. The duo’s heads turn towards you.

“For your dinner date?” Namjoon grins, and of course Yoongi told him. You glare at the faerie, and he smiles cheekily. Namjoon continues when you don’t bother correcting him, “You should buy wine. It’s a sexy drink.”

“Namjoon!” You exclaim, horrified. He giggles a bit sporadically. Yoongi just keeps smiling at you, just a bit too close to looking fond.

Faeries can sense auras better, even, than witches. Faeries can see it with only a glance, blues or reds or pinks hovering just over your form. Pinks can be admiration, confidence, love. Yellows can be envy, lust, cruelty. Wine red means only one thing; a red, ugly fury. It’s Yoongi’s least favorite color.

You can’t imagine what it’s like to see an overwhelming amount of colors every day against your will, but Yoongi likes to joke that there’s at least a little color to his life.

Witches are different. Witches sense auras completely based on a whim, a hunch. Sometimes you walk past a complete stranger and are keenly aware of what they’re feeling - and sometimes when Jungkook laughs too hard you taste something akin to cherries, hidden just under your tongue.

Yoongi’s a bit like mangoes. Hoseok is a little bit of everything, a little bit of cinnamon here and a little bit of blueberries there. Jin is a bit like cookie dough and Namjoon is a lot like chamomile tea. Jimin -

Jimin is sweet. Something sweet you can’t quite describe. Like sweaters straight out the dryer and the first spring morning where there’s no frost, only dew. You wonder what Taehyung’s happiness would taste like, wonder if it’s just as sweet.

“Your aura’s pink.” Yoongi mutters with a knowing smile, lips curled just the slightest bit. You slam your book closed with more force than necessary, and he laughs heartily as all the blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No it’s not shut up.” You grab a random book you’d separated and hide underneath it, hoping your cheeks aren’t as pink as your aura.

It’s a while later that you find the solution, only after reading through multiple ingredient guides (including the advantages of using dirt), three books for safe potion usage and two potion textbooks. It’s nestled under a glossary for everyday ingredients, and the pages are printed in the obnoxiously indecipherable cursive that witches tend to use.

Namjoon is long gone, carrying with him a stack of books that go past his head and nearly tower over his form. Hoseok appeared seemingly out of thin air, sat between you and Yoongi and flip, flip, flipping through his book, not quite reading like he’s supposed to but it’s okay. He doesn’t read a lot, just tends to learn in that intuitive way of his.

Hoseok laughs heartily at something Yoongi says and hops excitedly in his seat, the pixie perched on his shoulder squealing and gripping onto his shirt sleeve helplessly. He turns, coos, plucks a petal from the posy of daisies in the vase on the center of the table, delicately offers it with pouted lips. The pixie playfully nips at his thumb before snatching the petal from between his offering fingers and taking a bite– tiny hands smaller, even, than the size of his thumbnail.

The merman laughs and you’re absolutely enamored. With what, you don’t know. Maybe with how easy it was for them despite their difference in size, despite their lack of communication. It continually amazes you how important words can be and how at times they’re not needed at all.

The liquor store is big and intimidating and has one too many wines.

“You looking for something specific?” the lady behind the counter asks. She has soft eyes and her hair’s tied in a bun.

“Uh, wine, I guess.” You stammer.

“Can’t pick?” She’s rearranging the bottles on display behind her as she speaks over her shoulder, the glasses clinking together almost melodically. “Any special occasion?”

“Um.” You pause. “No?”

She quirks a brow.

You feel all the blood rush to your cheeks as you elaborate, “It’s for my familiar’s friends, that I guess are also my friends now, and I wasn’t going to bring anything but my other friend said I should bring wine, and I don’t want to look like a complete scrub in front of them but I don’t know anything about wine so I guess I am. A complete scrub.”

The lady laughs and you guess that your moment of oversharing is the moment you blacklist the liquor store and everything it stands for.

“What about sparkling wine?” She offers. She continues at your confused blinks, “It has bubbles.”

“Um. Sure. I mean. I like bubbles.”

So you show her your ID and pay for your wine and she packs it neatly into a bag. “Good luck with your familiar’s friends,” she says with an almost knowing smile as she hands the wine over, and you just nod because you don’t trust your voice not to squeak at that.

It’s another day. The day. You blink slowly awake and when you look outside your window it’s still dark out and you think you can feel Jungkook somewhere nearby, probably lying restless in his room.

You blink. The crow outside your window blinks back. There are nine crows outside this time, sitting around and staring as if they’re waiting for you to notice them. Nine crows. Positive recognition.

You groan and squeeze your eyes closed so hard you see colors.

(Love. Nine crows could also mean love).

You look at the door number. Then back down at the address on your phone. Then back up at the door. Down again.

Jungkook groans from beside you, tail flicking in slight irritation behind him. Or maybe it’s nervousness. Maybe even excitement. “Can’t we go in already?” He groans, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nod and nod and nod but don’t do anything. Jungkook uncrosses his arms at that, sighs, pats your head fondly but you swat his hand away anyway. “Are you nervous?” He asks, his hands combing through your hair now and you let him. You nod. “Well we can’t stay out here forever, you know.”

“We can try.”

Your familiar shakes his head, “What’s the point of that?” You grunt but don’t shift your gaze from the door. “I’m gonna ring the doorbell now, okay?”

You wonder when the tables turned. When it was you that was nervously skirting around them, when Jungkook was the one confident enough to get close.

You nod because there’s no point in delaying it, anyway. No point in you getting nervous, either.

Jungkook rings the doorbell and you look down at your shoes when you hear approaching footsteps, like they were just by the door and waiting. Their doormat says "enter if you dare" and has a little skeleton on the bottom. You stifle a laugh.

The door swings open and Jimin’s head pops out first, smiles at you both, opens the door wider. “Hello, hello!”

Jungkook greets him first, only smiling before handing over the bag in his hand. While you (read: Namjoon) had the idea of bringing wine, Jungkook wanted to bring juice, so he did.

“We brought stuff!” He smiles, and you hand the bag of wine over as if on cue.

“Wine!” Jimin cheers, quickly followed by footsteps and “juice!” from Taehyung.

You slip off your shoes and hang your coat by the wall hook, stare at a mustard colored peacoat and wonder whose it is.

The floorboards creak as you pad farther inside and you like that, the creaking - it means the place is old and lived in and you like old and lived in places.

Then there’s this rush of vanilla and strawberries and warmth and then the shyest boldest most beautiful boy half in your arms tugging you in whispering

hello, hi, Y/n, c'mere, it’s nice to see you again! sorry for the mess, Y/n, wait how did that get on the ceiling Y/n, Y/n.

Smiles this smile so big it hurts, cracks something big across your heart.

You’re dragged into their kitchen and Jimin is there, Jungkook close by sipping on something warm in his cup. Jimin is watching him, smiling something small and giddy, playing with the long earrings dangling from Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook flushes.

You thought you were ready for this softness. Early this morning you’d drank a soothing potion mixed with some sugar– you even bathed in lavender and rose water and a bit of neroli, just to soothe some smaller nerves. Standing here, you think it didn’t do much of a difference. You’re feeling everything all at once.

“Rule number one is that you have to ask Tannie if you can sit on the couch. I don’t have a rule number two because I haven’t thought that far, but please regard rule number one with utmost respect.” Taehyung exclaims with exaggerated hand gestures just as the dog in question trots towards you, angry eyebrows sizing you up despite his size. You feel very much intimidated.

Everything is great. Yeontan sometimes lets you sit on the couch and Jimin and Jungkook are laughing and Taehyung is telling you of this strange dream he had and of this strange album he listened to and of this art museum he went to that was absolutely terrible. Jimin interjects to agree that it was, in fact, terrible, the kind of museum where everyone’s a snob and thinks that art has to look and be a certain way.

Then when Jimin and Jungkook disappear somewhere Taehyung appears beside you, asking if he can take you somewhere, tangling your fingers together just as gently, as if to say you can let go if you want, you can say no if you want. But you do want it, so you let him tug you into their hallway.

His and Jimin’s shared bedroom isn’t particularly big, but it’s soft and smells like them. Almost but not quite like sugar and strawberries and lavender. There’s a cactus on one of their nightstands by the corner, a little bow on its pot, sitting by an over-filled vase of sunflowers. There are dried flowers by window ledges and framed prints and hanging by their headboard.

You’re both sitting in a corner, sharing earbuds, flipping through a poetry book you’d recognized the second he picked it up. The one Jimin bought from you that must have been for Taehyung. You smile at the thought.

“They don’t know we’re here,” Taehyung says suddenly with a giggle, tapping his feet to the song in his earbuds a bit out of rhythm. He says it like you’re sharing a secret. You find yourself grinning.

Then Jimin comes stumbling in, Jungkook not far behind, both of them giggling and tripping over their feet as if drunk but they’re not, they’re just giddy and excited and maybe a little bit in love.

Jimin looks over at you two in the corner and you freeze. You freeze but you don’t know why, feel as if you’ve been caught but that’s not right, you and Taehyung weren’t doing anything, there’s no reason to feel as if you should apologize.

Yet you feel an apology on the tip of your tongue, even if Jimin and Jungkook’s faces are—aren't—

“There you two are,” Jimin says, nothing short of fond.

Jungkook behind him grins, pads over to plop his head on your lap. Jimin follows, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of both your and Taehyung’s heads before sitting in front of you three and you feel—

You feel warm. Loved. Safe. Sandwiched from both sides, Taehyung curling in closer, Jungkook’s hair tickling the exposed skin of your leg, Jimin taking a hold of your hands, teasingly pressing a few kisses to the back of it.

You play games after that and argue for over ten minutes on which movie to watch. There’s only the living room and it’s already a small space to start, so you all end up pressed together on the couch, but no one seems to mind. You get winks whenever you meet someone’s eye and everything is warm and makes you feel sleepy. You feel adored and cared for and think your worlds are colliding in the most wonderful of ways.

Except sometimes you feel as if you’re intruding, as if you shouldn’t be there at all. It’s hard to think otherwise, with them being in love and whatnot. But it’s unfair, unfair to think that you’re being left out when there’s nothing to be left out of, so you sit and try to convince yourself that these almost-feelings are thoughts of

wow, what a kind bunch of people I know, how lucky I am to have them in my life, what a great group of friends this is.

“Are you feeling okay?” Namjoon asks the second you walk inside his shop. You don’t remember walking here, don’t remember at all. “Because everything suddenly tastes icky and I literally just ate some of Jin-hyung’s lemon pie so you better get happy quick.”

The inside of the store still smells of sage and rosemary and butter cookies, and there are still objects lying around in places they shouldn’t. Namjoon picks up a copy of Alice in Wonderland that appeared on his desk this morning and tucks it away neatly between the shelves and shelves of other books. You wonder how he finds space for it.

There are no light switches anywhere, no bulbs hanging overhead. But there’s a fire crackling by the fireplace that never seems to go out, and there are lanterns floating just the tiniest bit, hovering just above the tables, burning with green alchemical fire and tinting everything a warm emerald color. The lanterns seem to stick a bit closer to whoever is nearby.

The interior is surprisingly lush, probably (definitely) courtesy of Jin. Carpets are layered one over another. There are heavy wooden tables and chairs, vines curling around their legs, their stems a vivid green. There is nowhere to sit that doesn’t seem to be crawling with plants.

You laugh and he smiles but there’s still a pinch of worry somewhere in his eyes, in the crease between his brows - just more on the edges now. “m'fine, Joon,” You say, then immediately want to swallow your words back in. You don’t want to give such an answer, not to Namjoon. "At least, I will be.“ you add.

The witch is about to interject just as Jin walks in, Kimbap striding behind him with his tail just as high as his head. "Joon-ah, the chimney smoke is blowing south.”

Namjoon nods, like there’s more to the phrase than just the direction the smoke is blowing. He stands up, and you have no choice but to follow. “I’ll deal with it later, hyung. Y/n-ah, do you wanna join us for pie?” And so you do.

You’re at a pleasant level of tired, the kind in which everything is just a bit funnier than usual, where walking feels like you’re wading through knee-deep water. Jin slices you some of his lemon pie in a piece that ends up breaking apart, and he releases a gut wrenching scream when some of it falls onto his jeans that has you and Namjoon laughing so hard you see colored spots.

“So what’s got you in such a mood?” Seokjin asks as he shoves a forkful of pie into his mouth that’s way bigger than necessary, the man barely even managing to chew it. He’s wearing shorts now.

“It’s her failing love life, hyung, keep with the program.” You flick Namjoon on the forehead at that and he laughs, quick and sharp. He tries to hide it but his smile keeps slipping.

“No it is not.”

“Lies, your shoulders are all scrunched up.” Jin points out through a mouthful of pie, and it’s then you notice your shoulders bunched up into an irritable shrug. You try to relax but it’s too late.

“Did they say something to you?”

“No!” You’re quick to say. “No. They didn’t say anything to me.”

Namjoon and Jin look at you, then look at each other. Squint. There’s a second of silence, and then a quiet, “Let’s curse them.”

“What!” You snap.

“Not a malicious curse! Just a tiny one.” Namjoon nods, proud of himself.

“May their phones run out of battery quicker.”

“May their socks always step into puddles.”

“May they forget a family member’s birthday.”

“Oh, that’s a little mean,” Namjoon frowns.

Jin looks sheepish. “Was it too mean?” He pauses, rubbing a hand over his chin, wings fluttering a bit. "May they burn their toast more often?“

A smile, and they high five. Namjoon sits up, his chair scraping backwards. "I need, like, five candles. And hyssop. Hyung, do we have hyssop?”

You watch these two adult men scramble around their own house with narrowed eyes. “Guys! I don’t want to curse anyone! They didn’t do anything, really!”

Namjoon turns, candle in hand as he sighs, places it back in its shelf. He walks back towards you, places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure? You can tell us, you know. We’re here to help.”

“I know.” Is all you say, and you do. You do know. They’re always trying to help, always are. “Thank you. I just need to sort my feelings through, I think.” Namjoon is frowning but nods, pinches your cheek, laughs at your squeal.

Jin walks in, dry bay leaf in hand. “So we don’t need this?”

“No.” You deadpan. His shoulders slump, and you laugh when he trudges back out the way he came.

Everything seems a bit off, a bit odd - like the universe shifted one centimeter to the right, everything off kilter.

Jimin picks you up after your afternoon classes that day, arms crossed and leaning against a wall like they do in all those books and movies and dramas. He’s wearing skinny jeans and fake glasses. It’s kinda unfair that people like him exist, people that can see without any visual aid whatsoever.

He smiles when you reach him, ruffles your hair, kisses your nose - the very tip of it, lips barely even grazing your skin.

“Hi, hello,” he says, grins, pinches your arm like it’ll distract you from his own embarrassment, laughs when it works.

The vampire takes your hand, tangles his fingers with yours, swings your intertwined hands softly.

“Taehyung’s making pasta,” Jimin says, pauses, “well, Taehyung's watching the pasta, actually,” he corrects with a chuckle.

“Am I invited to your pasta endeavors?”

“Do you want to be? You’re going to have to spend, like, hours with us.” His tone makes it sound like it’s the most terrible thing but his smile says otherwise. The breeze is teasing him, fluffing his hair like a baby chick.

“Oh no. Oh no, not hours.”

“Hours.” He says dramatically, giggles�� really giggles, even though he’s vehemently opposed to the term whenever you bring it up.

Jimin is charming, haphazard all around the edges kind of charming. He smiles a lot, smiles at everyone, smiles like he has an infinite number of them to offer when you have, like, seven in a day at most. He smiles at the ice cream vendor and at the bulgogi vendor across from it. He smiles at the stray cats in alleyways and apologizes when he nearly bumps into a trashcan. Smiles at you, too.

“We’re home!” Jimin yells out when you both arrive, his fangs poking out through his smile and you know he must be talking to Taehyung but for a second it really feels like you’re home. Not because of their home, exactly, even with the streaks of paint on the ceiling and sprawled out video games on the floor and a bonsai on the windowsill that you just know is Taehyung’s, but just because of–

them.

And it all feels like so much.

You’re all watching Ponyo like Jungkook wanted to so much and him and Jimin are half asleep on the futon just below the couch, all curled into each other and warm and comfortable.

(You try to cover them with a blanket like they do in every romance ever known to man, but Jungkook immediately kicks it off with a might you’ve never seen before, and you blankly watch it flop to the floor. Taehyung muffles his laugh as much as he can manage).

Taehyung shifts closer to you somewhere between the credits rolling and Jungkook’s particularly loud snore, and something about his hesitation and the little smile almost makes you coo.

You don’t comment, simply crawl closer to Taehyung on the couch. He shifts so he’s closer and his antlers just barely graze over the armrest before he settles, nuzzling into the throw pillow. He smells like Jimin’s body wash and shampoo; citrus mixed with something boyish, something like honeysuckle and cedarwood, something that just might be Taehyung.

“Is this okay?” he mutters sheepishly, his hand grazing over yours as he shifts, shifts, shifts positions.

You swat at the couch a bit before finding the bare skin of his arm. His inner elbow, most likely. You tap twice, not willing to speak, not willing to break the sweet sweet cotton candy of this moment.

A moment of silence goes by. A quiet one. Quiet moments with Taehyung are nice, like there’s nothing needed to be said, no need to fill the silence. It’s quiet in a loud way, a thousand words to say and not a single one good enough to be put into words. But it’s nice, even though it shouldn’t need to be.

Taehyung suddenly turns, takes his phone from the nightstand, unplugs the charger from it before turning, settling, squinting at the screen’s brightness. You laugh, a breathless thing, and he smiles.

He type type types before pausing, glancing at you from beneath his lashes. You’re so close you can count the number of eyelashes he has, the number of freckles, the little mole by his nose and his bottom lip that would look unnecessary on anyone else but on him it’s just right.

He hands the phone over. Taehyung does this sometimes, tells you things through the phone despite how close you might be, says it helps him think his words through, helps him not say things he’ll regret.

There’s something on my mind, the phone says, short and simple, and for a second you think that this is it, he noticed your sticky feelings, they all did, you messed up. Either in many little ways and one big way or many big ways and one little way, you don’t know. He’s here to be mature about it, here to say

stop looking at my boyfriend like that please

and the worst part is that they have every right to.

Because you don’t have a right to think of Jimin’s boyfriend like this, you don’t have a right to think of Taehyung’s boyfriend like this, that you don’t have a right to think of Jungkook like this- sweet Jungkook in love with them both.

Your mouth is dry and tastes like salt as you curl up, type tell me? before handing the phone over. You just hope they don’t hate you. You wouldn’t be able to handle them hating you.

Sometimes you think there’s something wrong with you, to think like this, to think of all three of them like this. That maybe you’re doing this wrong, doing something wrong. You googled it once, just to see - and some of what you saw hurt, hurt a lot. A lot of people, a lot of what you saw said that you can’t love more than one person, that you can only fully give your heart to one person. But that’s not right, you don’t believe that one bit, don’t want to believe that, because there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just love, and there’s nothing wrong with love.

Jimin and Taehyung and Jungkook are so gentle with their love for each other, all this patiently impatient love, their sweet tangle of fingers and gentle smiles. Jimin and Taehyung with their lingering kisses that shouldn’t linger because they’re fifteen minutes late for class. The two on either side of Jungkook on the couch, one messing with his hair and the other falling asleep on his shoulder and you love it. Love them together.

And you don’t know what to do with this not-jealousy, with this almost-jealousy, with this-

love.

You watch Taehyung’s fingers move as he types, pauses, deletes. You think it’s better this way. To end things before the sticky feelings clogging at your insides spreads until it hurts too much to hide.

He hands the phone over. You hope your fingers aren’t shaking. I think I’m sad is all it says. You feel relieved even though you know you shouldn’t.

do you wanna talk about it?

His hands clumsily brush against yours as he takes the phone from you.

could u talk out loud? if you don’t mind? i like ur voice.

“okay,” you whisper, feeling small and warm in all the right ways, and he laughs that ehehe laugh.

He motions for you to get closer. You comply, curling in closer to read over his arm as he writes. sry my spellign sucks, i’m bad even tho i need to know how 2 communicate

“You used both the number two and the word two in that one sentence,” you exclaim with a muffled laugh, mindful of the still sleeping Jimin and Jungkook, and you feel him smile before he even does, big and unreserved and then you feel it, the little pang in your chest, warmth warmth warmth spreading through your veins.

i think i like many someones, but i don’t know how to tell them!!!! this is then followed by a stream of emojis, only some of them resembling anger. You almost snort at the sight of a weirdly placed clown emoji and a little gray haired grandma.

There’s a moment of silence as you think of what to say that you won’t regret later. “I think you need to tell them,” you continue right as Taehyung starts typing a drawn out nooo, “They won’t treat you any differently, honey boy.”

Taehyung visibly recoils, shivers, takes a hold of your hand and types with his other, dont use logic ur mortal rules do not apply 2 me, he writes, only erases it when you’re done laughing, types again with shaky fingers, how do u know that?

You inhale a shaky breath. “Because if they really love you, romantically or not, they’ll want to see you healthy and happy regardless of whether they reciprocate your feelings.” You pause. "Which I’m sure they do.“ You attempt a knowing smile at him but he doesn’t get it, only stares blankly at the screen, thumb still tracing patterns on your skin.

im scared

You wriggle forward so that your brows are pressed together with his. He shivers. "You shouldn’t be. People that are meant to find each other will, remember? So people that are meant to stay with each other will, too.”

Silence. Taehyung stays still and for a moment you think you messed up, gave too much away, but then he leans down and presses his lips to your temple. Almost kissing you but not quite. “Thank you.” he murmurs against your skin, “Goodnight, baby doll.”

His head plops onto the throw pillow before he pauses, sits upright to lean dangerously close before nuzzling his head into your shoulder, hiding his face in the pillow quick. Scenting, you consider, then dismiss the thought.

You can’t see his face but there’s a faint taste of strawberries on your tongue. Ah, you think offhandedly. So that’s what his happiness tastes like.

You stay wound up in each other even as the heat is sweltering, and you wake up on a bed with Jimin pressed behind you and his legs tangled with yours and Jungkook somewhere between you and Taehyung, his cheek pressed to your collarbones and snores loud enough to reach the heavens and it all feels a little disorienting. Just a little bit too right.

You hope things with Jungkook will go well.

Even when you wake up before the sun, it’s warm.

Everything is warm, feels like lavender and rosemary and something soft all around. You think you can taste cherries and strawberries and something sweet, everything sweet.

And then you open your eyes and it all makes sense. Because that’s just how Jungkook and Jimin and Taehyung are, soft and sweet and floral until all the edges are safe enough to press against, all sugar spun words and sugar spun smiles. It makes you long for it, long for their sugar scrubbed lips against your skin.

But that’s not right, it’s not right to think that, so you steel yourself and peel open an eye and think that it’s best to get it over with quickly, like jumping into cold water. It hurts less that way, you learned.

“Guk,” You mutter first, softly, the man stirring only slightly beneath you. He turns and nestles his head deeper into your neck, his lips dragging a bit over the skin and you shudder because you can’t help it. “Kook,” you repeat but it’s even softer, your hands combing through his hair.

He hums a bit, and Taehyung shifts from behind him. The man opens his eyes in a sort of dissociative state but he still smiles, eyes meeting yours over Jungkook’s head, and you both share a knowing kind of smile, like you’re being let in on a secret. Jimin shifts from behind you, his touch cold in a way all vampires’ are, but oddly warm as his arms tighten around your middle, nose nuzzling the back of your neck.

You close your eyes and sleep a bit longer. You allow yourself just that. It’ll be the last time, you tell yourself, even though you’ve said that for way too long already.

When you wake again, it’s just you and Jungkook. Unsurprising, since Jungkook is the one that sleeps in the most, sleeps whenever he finds the chance. You look at the time, the clock blinking 10:36. You realize you’re not on the couch anymore, that someone must have moved you while you were sleeping. Heart aching at the thought that you must have been a bother.

You just lay there for a while in thought, reverting between looking at the ceiling and looking at Jungkook. The little constellation of freckles and blemishes on the apple of his cheeks. His cupid’s bow. The tangle of his eyelashes.

Laughter trickles through the closed door, bouncing around and fitting itself into all the corners and crevices, soft and warm and sweet. That’s the thing about them. You hear their voices, their laughter, and it burrows itself somewhere in your chest and makes itself at home and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out. You find trails of their laughter everywhere, find it when you open cabinets and it comes tumbling out, find trails of their smiles under cushions and fogging up all your mirrors.

You brush away Jungkook’s hair with your palm, lightly press your lips to his forehead in an almost-kiss. You think he shivers, but you were busy untangling your legs from his so you can’t be too sure.

When you close the door softly behind you and pad further into their apartment, you hear a noise of exasperation by the couch.

“The creature has risen,” Jimin remarks ominously.

“Amen.” Taehyung says, feigning surprise when you turn to look at him.

“You all suck,” you say and watch as they burst into a fit of giggles, your heart dangerously warm. “Sorry for staying over, I wasn’t planning to.”

“No, no, no,” Taehyung’s the first to reassure, gesturing for you to come closer. You comply, standing hesitantly by the back of the couch, and he turns to take your hands into his, his thumb drawing circles onto the back of it. You almost shiver. “S'okay, not your fault. And it’s nice having you here.”

You don’t comment. Try not to stare at his hands tangled in yours, try not to think of how warm he is. “Guk’s still sleeping,” you start, if only as a distraction, "I would wake him, but I don’t have the willpower.“

Jimin bursts from the couch, muttering an excited mantra of "I’ll do it!" as he does so. He almost passes you by but pauses, presses a kiss to your temple and a hand trailing softly down your arm and then— "Good morning, my little love.” before he disappears down the hallway. You try to steel your expression into something less soft and fond but when you turn Taehyung’s looking at you like he caught you in the act, his eyes and smile all giddy and warm. You look away quick, speed walking into the kitchen.

Their kitchen is a normal kitchen by all means, nothing overly exciting there. But when you turn there’s a teapot with a little cartoon bear and their oven mitts have polka dots on them and there are reminders glued to the fridge with little magnets that look like cats.

Dance practice at 2!, one says in cute cursive handwriting; Buy pickles at the grocery store!!! the other says covered in scrawls and doodles and too many exclamation points. You remember last night, remember the way Taehyung texts and just know it’s him, and feel hopelessly endeared.

The man in question suddenly trudges into the kitchen, and you try to purse your lips to keep yourself from smiling even as he pats your head and grabs a carton of juice from out the fridge. You catch a glimpse of several bags of blood in there and wonder what Jimin is up to with Jungkook. Jungkook’s sleepy noises and pursed lips and puffy eyes. Jimin sitting on the edge of the bed, combing through the werewolf's hair and looking down at him with a smile. Good god.

Taehyung grabs your wrist and leads you toward a cabinet, grip hopelessly soft. He opens it, takes out a mug with a printing of a dolphin jumping out the water. There are too many colors and it kinda looks like a Picasso painting. “Jiminie bought it for me from the last time he visited his family back in Busan. It’s the ugliest mug we own and also my favorite.”

He places it on the counter, pours juice into it as you laugh. The hybrid reaches to grab another mug, hands you one with a smiling Cinderella on it. “Thank you,” you mutter, soft.

He lunges forward abruptly, and there’s a smack on the center of your forehead when his lips meet your skin. He pulls away just as quick, shuffling away with his mug, but it’s still warm where he kissed you.

God. You’re so far gone.

You steel yourself as you approach Taehyung. He’s sitting on the far end of the table, pouring cereal into a bowl. You laugh lightly, going to sit opposite him, but he pulls you by the sleeve of your shirt to sit beside him, so you comply with a laugh.

There’s silence as you sip on your drink and as he eats his cereal. Then suddenly you mutter, just for the heck of it, "What’s your favorite color?“

The boy looks up, blinks, and you’re suddenly reminded of why you called him honey boy in the first place. He’s so, so pretty. "Hm?” he hums at first, chewing slowly at his cereal. “It, uh. Starts with a b and ends with a loo.”

“Ah.” You nod, “I like purple, too.”

Taehyung laughs, quick and sharp, then covers his mouth with a hand because otherwise he’d spit cereal all over the counter. You grin in delight because how could you not?

“Not funny,” The hybrid mutters after the laughter stops. He tries to keep a poker face but his smile keeps slipping.

“You laughed, though.” You point out but he doesn’t say anything, moves the cereal box between you both so you don’t see his face. You laugh.

It’s quiet again after that. A nice quiet. Like the ones you experience with family members and friends, people you’ve known your whole life. You haven’t known Taehyung your whole life - haven’t known him for much time at all, actually. You’d like to, though. Like to know where he’s most ticklish, what makes his brows furrow, what makes him laugh so hard he’s in tears and has everything tasting like strawberries.

“Hey, Taehyung?” You speak up for the first time in a while, Yeontan’s tail tickling your legs from under the table. He hums for you to continue, so you do, “Is it Jimin that dances?”

Taehyung’s expression contorts into so much open admiration your heart kinda aches a bit. “Yeah,” he says a bit breathlessly, “He’s really good at it, too. So pretty.”

“Oh.” You nod, because it makes sense. He’s graceful and slim and his legs are a bit too muscular, but you thought that had something to do with him being a vampire. Protein and all that. “I can imagine,” you say because you really can.

Taehyung nod nod nods and it’s then that the wood creaks, and you turn to find Jimin standing nearby, like a hell-beast you summon using words of praise. Jungkook is standing behind him, and you look down and see their hands intertwined and Jungkook’s face a bit flushed.

“They’re cute,” you hear Taehyung mutter, and you nod because it’s true. They’re good for each other. And if the way Taehyung stands up and throws himself on top of both of them says anything, all of them erupting into giggles and everything tasting sweet - he’s good for them, too. They all are. So good.

“Noona!” You blink blink blink and look up and Jungkook must have materialized beside you or something because he definitely wasn’t there before. “Jimin-hyung is complaining that Tae-hyung only fed you juice so now he’s making food! Don’t worry, it’s not some lame cereal or anything.”

You nod and he nods back. Ruffles your hair. Doesn’t kiss the crown of your head like he does sometimes, on some mornings where he’s cold and soft and half-asleep.

Jungkook coaxes you out the chair and leads you to the stove where Jimin is making eggs. Taehyung is there, too, and your familiar suddenly lets go of your hand just to burst into a sprint and slap the hybrid’s butt, says something about him having a perky bum before Taehyung is chasing him around the table while Jimin is laughing and you’re laughing and it’s a mess.

It all kinda feels like true love.

You really want it to be.

You’re in an aquarium. You’re not usually in aquariums, not without company, not with the children chasing each other around and the occasional happy couple that walks by to stare at an octopus or something. The things people do for love.

“I wanna be a marine biologist,” Hoseok says, chewing on a shrimp cracker. He’s wearing swim trunks and a navy blue shirt with a little fish on his chest. The gills on his neck are swaying softly. "I get to see fish and maybe show them to little kids sometimes. Oh, and swim in the big tanks after hours.“

"You can do that?”

He turns to you, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “Nope.” He says, popping another cracker into his mouth.

“Do all mermaids like to swim?” You ask, turning to him expectantly. He offers you a cracker from his little packet and you politely decline.

“Not really,” he hums in thought. “Some just prefer the land, ya know? I’d like to think their soul will always be tied to the ocean, though.”

You hum. “Yeah. I like the way you put it.” Is all you say. When you turn to look at him, he’s smiling.

Hoseok lets you look over his shoulder as he shows you pictures of him with his tail, blushes a pink just as bright as his tail when you compliment him. He pauses at a picture of him with purple seashells over his chest like Ariel, bursts into laughter with you.

You appreciate it. Appreciate that he’s not asking why you’re really here, sulking at a school of trouts.

“Hoseok-ah,” you say, pause when he hums in acknowledgement. He doesn’t push, just waits. His hair’s a bit wet, you notice. Smells a bit like chlorine and something soft. He’s shining with pixie dust and something else. “Um. At what point did you know you were in love with Yoongs?”

His whole body melts, human fondue. “It wasn't really a big revelation. At one point I just made a face at him and watched him laugh then thought ‘oh shit, do I love him' then I couldn’t unthink it, couldn’t undo it.” You watch as everything about him instantly melts with his smile. It was just the tiniest bit of tension, so small you couldn’t even notice it until it wasn’t there, that’s what melts away.

“Huh.” Is all you say, because there’s nothing you could say to that. “Then what made you tell him?”

“Red bull,” He says, laughs, “And tears, too. Can’t forget about those,” He looks at you and softens, looking impossibly honest. “And the thought that maybe I’d regret it if I kept it to myself.”

The mermaid turns and watches the same school of trouts pass by with you. Doesn’t say anything until you hear a gasp and he says all too loudly, “Holy shit that dude totally just winked at me.”

And you laugh, slapping lightly at his shoulder, “It’s a fish, they can’t even blink.”

“I swear that one just did.”

“They don’t even have eyelids!”

And maybe things are just a little more okay.

It’s another day. Another day that feels like an early morning but it really isn’t. A time of day in which the air is not yet cooled by autumn and the sun lines the side of your face lovingly.

Except the curtains are drawn and the air conditioner is at full blast, and Jungkook is napping on your bed when it’s five in the afternoon and his own bed is, like, down the hall.

“Guk,” you whisper, spot a blob of blankets that must be Jungkook and only a nose sticking out of it, as if he were under the covers until recently but had to get out for some air. You’re so fond. “Gukkie. Time to get up.”

You try to gently shake him awake but he only groans, trying to shuffle away from you on the bed. Breathing out a chuckle, you place the drink in your hand onto the bedside table before plopping yourself completely on top of him, hear it when he lets out a low oof.

He whispers a mantra of drawn out noo's under his breath before you see his head pop out, chin propped over the blankets as he watches you with his brows furrowed. You laugh in delight, catch it when he purses his lips to fight back a smile.

“What’s that smell?” The werewolf asks, voice low and groggy from sleep, his arms bursting from out of the covers to wrap themselves around your middle. You shuffle from on top of him until your cheek is laying on his chest, warm and comfortable, feel it whenever he draws in a breath, the rise and fall of his chest.

“Potion,” your voice is muffled from where your cheek is laying on his collarbone, but you know he hears you when you feel rather than see his face scrunch up in adorable disgust. You continue before he can voice his concerns, "But! It’s sweet. I put in some honey and a chocolate bar and some maple syrup. The syrup needed a little more persuasion to dissolve but a little flirting did the trick, I think.“

"Sounds like it tastes very sweet,” Jungkook says with a toothy grin, sitting up without letting go of you so you’re forced to sit up, too. You watch as he slowly moves to grab his drink, other arm resting on your hip, as if to stop you from moving, to keep you close. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “What’s it for? I don’t know what Tae-hyung told you, but I don’t have bowel problems, I swear.”

You laugh, tucking the comment away for another time. “Nothing like that, I think. It’s just warm.”

He hums, blowing ripples in his cup as steam wafts upwards and around. You watch-- feel – as he sips at his cup, as he shudders a bit when the warmth flows through his veins, as he presses the cup to his chest with half-lidded eyes, breathes out a little sigh.

You get up before you can stare any longer. You almost do, shuffling back and untangling your legs from his, but Jungkook startles and stops you with a hand lightly gripping your arm.

“Dinner- Guk, I gotta make dinner-” You say but it’s only to convince yourself, only to stop yourself from getting closer— but it hasn’t worked before and it isn’t working now.

Jungkook drags you back to bed, grip hopelessly gentle, as if to say you can go, you can leave if you want—but you don’t, you never do, so you let yourself be dragged; helpless for him, for this pretty boy in your bed.

His legs are around your waist and pulling you closer and you want this, you want this but you don’t want to want this, don’t know how to get closer without the words spilling—I like you I like you, like you so much, liked you for ages.

A chin is propped over your head, both his hands resting on your hips. The silence sticks, gentle with sleep and afternoon fog.

“Noona,” he murmurs, and you hadn’t realized when he started rocking you gently back and forth. “Noona, s'okay, right?”

You hum but it sounds distant, like you hadn’t said anything at all. It’s a pretty dream, you decide. It’s a pretty dream and you’ll sit here while Jungkook tells you pretty things.

His hands are trailing up and down your arms and you shudder, feel each individual line, and it’s skin that will never be the same now that it remembers what Jungkook’s touch feels like. It’s too much. Not enough.

(Jungkook had kissed you once before, back when you were both tipsy on secrets and laughter and a bottle of wine, alcohol no longer in any of your systems but you were both pretending it was. He'd leaned over, unthinking, when you’d laughed at something he said, had pressed both your lips together. You hadn’t reacted at first, were still for enough time to make him reconsider, make him recoil back, but then you were slipping your hands into his hair and tugging him back and he’d kissed you again, softly, soft enough to make you ache for it for weeks afterwards, like a bruise that wouldn’t heal.

“Guk,” you’d started the next day, finding him hunched over the couch, “could we talk, maybe-” but he’d cut you off cheerily, much too cheerily, “it’s okay, noona, I get it, it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine—”)

“Shit,” Jungkook says, sounding pained, almost. You look up at him but he’s already looking. He’s close. So close. Not close enough. “This is okay, right?”

You nod, not sure what he’s asking about but sure that it’s okay. With Jungkook, it always is.

He makes a soft little sound, like a hum and a growl and a sigh all mixed into one. It burrows somewhere in your chest and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out.

You’re not sure when the dam breaks. Not sure who moves first. But at some point you both do, meeting in the middle, angle off, teeth clicking. You kinda want to break it off just to laugh, just to blink and make sure this is all real, but Jungkook’s hands move to cup both your cheeks and keep you in place and then

then you’re kissing.

He doesn’t taste salty with wine. He tastes of lip balm and something sugary sweet. Just like you remember. Just like you dream of, sometimes. You think of this and smile so hard your cheeks ache and feel him smile back. It should be an awkward kiss, if anything- practically all teeth- but it isn’t, it’s nice, gentle.

Jungkook pulls back to breathe, to mutter something that sounds like oh, god, before he’s swaying back, back to you, pulling you close, impossibly close. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again—eyes shy and determined, lips careful and caring.

You pull back and Jungkook growls, something raw and oddly feral, but when you look up at him, startled, he looks equally surprised. "I swear that wasn’t on purpose.“ He sounds a bit out of breath. His too long bangs brush against his eyelashes and there’s a little bit of stubble on his chin. You laugh and kiss him there, right on his chin, hear it when he makes a soft little thing that sounds like a sigh. You wonder how many more sounds you can get out of him, how many more sighs you can steal from his lips and eat like summer cherries.

He does taste like that, though, you think. He tastes like cherries. Like happiness.

Jungkook gets closer still, whispers a breath against your lips, this is okay, right? this is okay? and you feel it even without words, feel it in the gentle press of his lips to yours. Feel it even when it’s not gentle, when it’s something deeper and hungry, sweeter and messier and open. It’s embarrassing how easy you say yes each time, but he doesn’t comment. Only smiles. Swallows the embarrassing sounds you make.

There’s a gentle press of a tongue to the seam of your mouth, to your bottom lip, let me in, it says, let me in, if you want. And you do, you do want it, so you let him, feel as he melts and sighs and sinks into you deeper still. He’s so pretty. You say so, when you both part, watch as he blushes the same color as the cherries he tastes like.

You don’t realize when you’re being set down softly on a pillow, Jungkook hovering over you, pressing kisses from the apple of your cheeks down to your jaw down to your collarbones. So beautiful, he murmurs, suddenly shy, and it makes you both smile and you can’t come back from this. Can you come back from this?

Dark eyes meet yours when you look up, round as truffles. Jungkook smiles a toothy grin, something giddy in his eyes that widens when you smile back. Then he’s leaning down and kissing you so softly it melts you down to your bones. You can’t come back from this.

You want this. You want to kiss him until he’s trembling and his bangs are sticking to his forehead. You want to hold his hand when he’s sad and have your hand held when you’re sad and sometimes hold hands just because. You want to have baths, sexy ones sometimes, with candles.

But you also want early mornings. You want to wake up to the sound of keyboards and Jungkook ushering you out of bed, noona let me help, noona look at what I made, noona let’s go outside, noona, noona, noona.

You want Jimin and Taehyung. You want to make them smile, want them to make you smile, want to wake up to their smiles. You want to give them presents and watch their faces contort into gentle surprise. Want to hang ornaments on Taehyung’s antlers and watch him smile when they jingle.

You can’t come back from this.

"Wait,” you gasp, “wait, wait, wait.”

Jungkook sits up so fast he looks dizzy. “Noona?” His voice sounds small and panicked. He comes to when you sit up, too, shuffling away from you quick, “Oh god. Oh god, I—I’m sorry, I don't—Oh, oh god.”

He tries to get out of bed but you grab him quick, “Wait, don't—don’t go. Just give me a second,” you’re breathing too quick. You breathe more slow, the way Jimin taught you how; three seconds in and three seconds out. “Just… give me a second.”

Jungkook looks up then down then up again. “Okay.” He sits back. Not close like before. There’s still a bit of panic in his eyes, just more on the edges now.

He holds his hand out to you wordlessly, looking down at the sheets. You accept the offer, intertwining your hands softly.

“You don’t, like, owe me an explanation or anything,” he speaks quick, “we don't—have to do anything,” he grimaces, "obviously. We obviously don’t have to do anything. If you wanted to before but don’t want it anymore, that’s fine, that’s fine too—"

“Guk,” You interject softly. He’s breathing too quick, too. “I want to do those things with you—I do, I really do. Wanted to for some time,” he’s looking at you now, and you try not to flush but fail miserably. “I just—wanted to get some things straight, and thought, um. WWND, you know?”

Jungkook smiles, the curl of his lips slow. “…What Would Namjoon Do?”

“Exactly!” You huff. There’s more to be said but you’re both smiling, so maybe that’s something.

“Um,” The werewolf says as the silence drags on, ears drooped against his head, “I’m still confused maybe a little.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I just need to know of, like. Feelings that may or may not be happening.”

“Feelings.” He mutters softly. His thumb is rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Looks at you shyly. “I like you,” he says all too easily—looks relieved at saying it, too, like the words have been waiting a long time to get out. “Those are my feelings.”

His words spread to the pit of your stomach, heavy and sweet, like how honey seeps into tea. It’s so fast. Everything is happening so fast you can’t wrap your head around anything. “Me?” you breathe in and breathe out quick. “You like me?”

Jungkook nods and nods again, hair bobbing with the movement. He shuffles a bit closer, hesitates, shuffles further away.

“Hey, no,” you almost coo, pull him so he can get closer and he does. “I like you, too. Liked you for ages.”

“Yeah?” He smiles slow, something big and giddy, teeth and all, shuffles closer still, “Yeah?” He asks again, almost nonsensically, not sure what he’s trying to confirm.

You smile just as big. “Yeah.”

Then Jungkook melts, turns to mush, shoulders drooping, “Oh, thank god. I just went through, like, nine stages of grief over our friendship that I thought I’d just ruined by making out with you.”

“Five—” you manage through your laughter, “Five- There are only five stages, Guk-ah.”

“Oh my god,” He looks at you, unimpressed, “I had, like, extra ones. I was that distressed. I like you so much.”

There’s silence and you both settle, let today’s events sit and simmer for a bit. It still feels unreal. Jungkook’s hand is still in yours, tethering you back to earth, and you feel the calluses of his skin as he trails nonsensical patterns on your hand.

“But,” you stutter when the silence drags for too long, “But I thought you were in love with Jimin and Taehyung?” You sound too vulnerable, you think. Too small.

“I am. I am,” He breathes in too quick, too sharp, breathes it out shakily, “but before I fell for them, I fell for you. It was always you.”

You want to say something, want to interject; and you’re about to, lips parted and everything, "But—"

You startle at the high pitched squeal Jungkook suddenly emits. He’s staring at his hands now, uses his free one to tug at his hair. “The hyungs! We planned to all talk together—Shit, dammit. Argh.”

You blink. “What.”

“Um!” He turns towards you resolutely. He lets go of your hand, regrets it, reaches back for it. “There are words that need to be said but I can't say them. Yet. And—” He makes another noise of frustration. “I wanna do this right. Will you let me do this right?”

You don’t know what he means by that. You’re still half expecting to wake up, to realize this is all a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time. Wouldn’t be the last, either.

You let yourself daydream sometimes, tell yourself it will ease the hurt. It never does, never eases, but you let yourself do it anyway. It’s all three of them in your daydreams. All three of them in this pretty world you created, in this little house where all four of you could wake up surrounded by warmth and everything is safe and soft enough to press against.

So you don’t know what to do. Don’t know what there is to do right. But you agree because it’s Jungkook, and you trust Jungkook, and sometimes he knows more than he lets on. “Okay.” you murmur.

You stay wound up in each other like it never happened, speaking softly to each other, Jungkook occasionally wrestling you for the blankets. You don’t talk about anything specific, just tiny things; that’s when I knew, that’s when I realized, that’s when I hoped. Sometimes Jungkook holds your hand while he talks and sometimes he doesn’t but that’s okay, too. When he lets go it’s cold but a sort of gentle one, makes you think,

look, look at how warm you can be.

There are still things to talk about but it’s fine. You have tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and so forth. For now, you’ll stay here where everything tastes like sugar. Spun-sweet.

That day didn’t come.

It’s been tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and even the day after that. Three days of you and Jungkook toeing around each other, three days of seemingly eternal suffering, only three days and now you’re in another person’s home sipping on another person’s cup of juice.

“Hey!” Namjoon frowns even as you give the cup back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” You say, not apologetic in the slightest and he knows it, too.

There’s a month and a half left until Jin and Namjoon’s anniversary and they’ve both consequently used it as an excuse to bring everyone together. Again. Jin had said something about making use of our youth, even baked a cake and everything, and him and Hoseok are currently in the kitchen decorating it. Or, at least, they were.

“Jin-hyung, I think we failed a bit.”

“We? We? Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong! There is no we! What is this blasphemy! Where is your sense of propriety!” Seokjin shrieks while flailing one of those icing bags, and Hoseok ducks just in time to avoid getting nailed in the head by it, cackling loudly.

Yoongi intervenes, stepping between them, looks down at the cake and promptly bursts out laughing.

You follow and laugh lightly at what you see.

It’s a round vanilla cake and on top — written all too messily — are some almost indistinguishable handwriting written with some kind of blue paste. It says “happy anniversary na" then, as the space obviously wasn’t enough, the mjin is squeezed in at the side.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind and you all know Seokjin is only pretending to be annoyed, so you shuffle through the cabinets and hand Hoseok the single candle you’d found, watch as he sticks it in on the top. An act of redemption, on his part.

You all squeeze out of the kitchen after Yoongi as he carries the cake into the living room, sets it down onto the dining table. You feel oddly proud. Or maybe you’re just feeling what they’re feeling, simmering a bit in the pit of your stomach.

You all gather around on the couch where Jin pops a musical Hoseok had recommended into the TV. You somehow fall asleep somewhere between him dancing along with the characters and Namjoon belting out the lyrics and wake to a little bit of drool trickling down your chin and a bit onto someone’s shoulder.

You sit up with half-lidded eyes. Pat the person’s arm in sympathy for them, hear a deep chuckle in response and then — and then—

And then you look up and it’s Taehyung. Taehyung, whom you hadn’t even seen walk inside. Taehyung, who willingly sat next to you and let you sleep on his shoulder.

You drooled on him.

Drooled.

You stand up quick and panicked and try to mask it by wiping off your clothes and strolling into the kitchen like it never happened. You kinda either feel like questioning all your life decisions up to this point or letting out a long-winded shriek and you don’t know which to do first.

The latter option will be first, you think as Taehyung follows you into the kitchen.

"Um,” he mutters at first, clutching at the hem of his sweater. It’s beige and has a little chicken on the top right corner and is a pinch too short on him. You briefly wonder if it’s Jimin’s. “Hello.”

You blink and your tongue is suddenly ten times too big in your mouth. “Hi.”

“There’s icing on your shirt.” He grins.

You look down and there really is. You hadn’t even eaten cake, there was no way for it to get there. “There is.” you agree.

He hums. You hum back. Sometimes people associate your social failures with the fact that you’re a witch, and although you’re mildly offended, you mostly just like to roll with it.

The air’s a bit tense and you wish you could just go back to when talking was easy, when you’d ask where he got his belt and it would release the floodgates — that the belt was, in fact, a tie, of which he painted over to mimic the colors of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Which he then said is how he wanted to paint his wall, paint the wine shelves he’d keep beside his bed for when he wants to classily watch anime. He has big dreams. Makes your heart hurt.

Today, Taehyung’s eyes are painted a brighter color than usual. Makes your heart hurt, too.

He has nice eyebrows. You say so out loud, and he laughs. “Thank you. You have nice eyebrows, too.”

What is this. What is happening. Why are you complimenting each other’s eyebrows. “Um,” you start, “what’s up?”

“Oh!” He says, as if he’d just now remembered. “I just wanted some, um.” He grabs a cup out the drawer, one that’s red and made of plastic, not cute like the ones he has at home, the ones he’s so fond of. “I just wanted some punch.”

Taehyung pours some grapefruit punch into his cup, pale-pink in color. “You should dye your hair that color,” you start, almost regret it when he turns to look at you, but he looks curious so you continue, “it’d look nice on you.”

His cheeks are that color, you think. Pale-pink. “Yeah.” He says and that’s that.

You two walk back and the credits are rolling and everyone’s spread around separately. Jimin’s here too, you notice, see him laughing in a corner with Hoseok. Convince yourself it’s not you he’s looking at when you pass him by.

You and Taehyung end up sat together on the couch, curling in close. This is nice, you think, startle when he turns to face you. “What’s nice?”

“Uh,” you panic and hurry to elaborate, “being close, I guess. With someone. S'nice.”

For a second you think he might laugh but he only turns, considering. His arm is around you, hanging loosely over your waist. You feel cocooned and safe despite yourself.

“Do you want that?” You face him but he isn’t looking at you, only looking ahead intently as if deep in thought. “Do you want someone to be close with?” His eyes are open and soft and somewhat unsure.

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. Taehyung turns, frowns. “Do I?”

“What do you mean?” He murmurs, and your smile droops at how hesitant he sounds.

“What do you mean?” you retort, brows furrowing.

Jimin pads over just then, as if sensing the slight commotion. You half expect him to ask what’s going on, half expect yourself not to know how to answer because what is going on?— but he doesn’t, doesn’t do that, only sits on your other side, places a hand on your knee.

“This, see, you do this,” you start, gesturing to Taehyung’s arm over your waist, to Jimin’s hand on your knee and his hand on your back, thumbnails dragging softly over your spine. “But it’s not real, I know it isn’t.”

Taehyung’s looking at you a bit too intently. Jimin is, too, his eyes glinting gold. You see the surprise cross both their faces.

“Who says it isn’t real?” Taehyung says with a frown.

“Y/n, love, we like you.” Jimin adds, voice hushed as if he’s telling a secret.

“..I know,” you start, brows furrowed in confusion. You know they like you, at least a little bit, otherwise they wouldn’t have invited you over to their home so many times. Then why are they looking at you like that? “I mean, I like you, too.”

“Baby, what Jiminie means is that we’ve been trying to court you for, like, two months.”

Your mouth is dry. You try to swallow once, twice, taste salt and feel your throat get icky.

“Should we settle this at home?” Jimin asks, more to Taehyung than to you but you answer anyway,

“No! No. I just—need some air.”

Outside is a bit cold and Namjoon’s windowsill has too many potted plants he most likely can’t care for and the sky is softly settling, clouds hanging gently overhead. You look up and Taehyung’s face is a bit blurry but his antlers are easy to spot. They make him look taller, softer. Sometimes when you’re talking his ears flicker towards you and that’s when you know he’s listening even without saying anything at all.

Right now, he’s shifting from foot to foot as if he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. But that’s not right, Taehyung’s not one to be uncomfortable in his own skin, so this gentle rocking of his makes you feel strange. Seasick, almost.

Everything seems sort of suspended, like the world is hanging by a drop of nectar, waiting.

“Let’s talk, my little love.”

You almost startle at the term. Jimin looks proud at having said it, too, pretty grin and all. You need to focus. “Okay.” You nod. Taehyung gestures for you to continue, so you do, “You said you were, um. You were courting me?”

Taehyung nods. “Yes.” He says with so much confidence your heart kinda ached a bit.

“So.. what does that mean?”

“It means we want to date you.” Jimin’s the one to say, a nervous but firm whisper.

The silence drags on like a lip being dragged through teeth, slow and deliberate. Your organs feel wobbly inside. They’re doing that thing where they communicate with their eyebrows. They all have impossibly expressive eyebrows.

You feel the immense need to sit down, so you do. You sink to your knees and they’re reaching out quick, ready to console, but freeze when you let out a long-winded shriek. “WHAT?" you sputter, ”WHY?“

"Why?” Jimin says, hums, considering. “Because we like you. Maybe not love yet. But we’d like to,” he crouches so you’re both face-to-face, smiles soft, “we’d like to love you. If you let us.”

“But—” you feel the need to say something, but don’t know what. “But Jungkook?”

“Baby,” Taehyung’s crouching now, too, almost taking a hold of your hand but stopping himself, “we talk about this, like, every wednesday.”

“What? It’s, like, a reunion sort of thing?” You sputter, mouth agape.

Jimin huffs out a small laugh, almost of disbelief, slapping lightly at Taehyung’s shoulder, “No, no, Taehyung-ssi here doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Taehyung tries to look serious, fails, and Jimin is smiling when he turns back to look at you. “We talk about it at least once a week, though.”

You still feel the need to say something but you feel like you’re running out of things to say. “But you’re all,” you run out of words then, gesture wildly at them from top to bottom.

Taehyung looks delighted. Jimin waits for you to elaborate, bites at his bottom lip when you don’t, asks tentatively, “…Yes?”

“You’re all— so pretty.” You mutter, exhausted. “And nice. And funny. And I’m just—” your arms drop to your sides.

“Little love,” Jimin’s the one to say, the one to get close, not afraid to get his clothes dirty as he shuffles towards you, “you’re also absolutely pretty, and nice, and funny, and beautiful.”

“I am?”

They grin. “You are.”

“Oh.”

The three want to date you. The three have wanted to date you for a while. The three are pretty and kind and make you feel seen, think you're pretty and kind, care enough to talk about it at least once a week and it all feels a bit unreal.

Your throat goes tight. You pick at your nail beds. Feel your blood pump the wrong way, its gentle waltz out seemingly of rhythm, one, two, three, one, two—what goes next?

“I–okay. Okay,” you stand up quick, rub some dirt off your knees, see Jimin point at them and giggle a bit. “Can we tell Jungkook? Do you wanna tell him now? I just. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

Jimin coos, takes a hold of your hand, kisses your temple after a second like he couldn’t help it. You think you hear Taehyung laugh from behind you.

They walk you home and you let them inside, their hands lingering on your back and on your shoulder, and Jungkook sputters when he sees you three, sitting up from the couch with a start. “Huh?” Is all he says.

“Hello!” Taehyung says with the biggest grin before getting straight to the point, "We confessed!“

"Y/n said yes!” Jimin adds, equally giddy.

“I’m a little drunk on punch!” You say, “But I still want to date you!”

Jungkook looks like a gaping fish for a second before there’s a twitch of his lips and then he’s smiling, slow and deliberate, pretty pretty pretty. He stands, pads over slowly and then quick, knocking the breath out of you, his arms tight. The rest join in and you’re all laughing and you’re all hugging and it feels like the beginning of something.

I want to be with you all,

then they’re all on you, soft and sweet, and

are you sure, and liked you for so long and are you super sure, don’t you need time to think, don’t you need more time to think, and smell so nice, you smell so nice, wait is that weird, and noona and little love and baby doll and—

they taste like love, like could-be love, and they feel like

y/n

home.

Jungkook’s planting tangerines in your backyard, spurred on by Jimin’s love for them. Taehyung’s there too, energetic and wild in a way only Taehyung can be, but gentle when he volunteers to fill up the watering can, patting and smoothing at the humid soil. He dyed his hair again. It’s the color of pink hyacinths now, the color of the punch he’d drank — pale-pink.

You’ve grown even more fond of your store. Or maybe you’ve grown more fond of what’s inside. Who’s inside. You like how it smells like licorice tea now, how Jimin always opens the windows to let the warm spring breeze inside, the vines and buds and flowers spilling inside like overeager children. You like the music that Taehyung plays on the speakers, jazz and Kehlani and the occasional Girl’s Generation. You like how your sheets always smell a bit like Jungkook.

Yoongi’s staring at you. He stares at a lot of people, but he’s been staring at you the most these days. You tear your gaze from the window, raising a brow at him as he occupies the entirety of the love seat in the corner that’s actually meant for two people. “Why’re you looking at me?”

“Ah.” Is all he says at first. You wait for some sort of sheepish smile, but it never comes. “Your aura. It's prettier these days.”

“Oh.” You blink. “What color is it?”

He turns, gaze shifting to the window you’d just been looking out of. You stare, too. Taehyung looks up just then, waves at you, a streak of dirt on his cheek. You smile lightly, wave back with the same amount of enthusiasm. When you look at Yoongi again, he’s already looking at you.

“You know when the sun is just about to set, and the sky is a mix of pinks and blues and oranges?” He smiles, a soft thing, and stands up. Touches lightly at an invisible barrier around you that’s not at all invisible to him. "That’s what it looks like. Like the gold of the sunset.“

a/n: here it is folks!! i didn’t like some of the scenes but i tried my best. some parts didn’t fit well here so i had to rearrange them a lot, and others i fit into the epilogue!! hope you enjoyed! spaced out is next i swear

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

[09:57]

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none

sometimes all you need for a perfect future is the love of your life

“mingi?”

“hm?”

“would you ever want to marry?”

you were in your boyfriend’s arms, still in your pyjamas as you cuddled him, held him close as he did the same with you, barely moving, the only movement you could feel being his chest underneath your cheek which was rising and falling with his soft, even breaths. if he hadn’t reacted you might have thought he was asleep, and if you hadn’t spoken up he might have thought so were you. but you weren’t, neither of you, just silently enjoying each other’s presence and the warm morning sun shining into your shared bedroom, leaving the bed glowing with a warm yellow-orange hue, making the two of you feel like cats seeking out the sunny spot in front of the door to take a nap. you were incredibly cosy, wrapped in your blankets that weren’t needed but were still appreciated, and the cosiness and incredible domesticity of this moment had elicited your question.

“why do you ask?”, mingi asked curiously, unsure where the sudden question came from, but not as shocked as you’d expected him to be. and he didn’t sound opposed, either, hadn’t immediately said no, something you’d feared.

“i just realised we never actually talked about what we want for the future. how we want to go on, how long-term we’re planning to be, if our future plans are compatible. things like that. that was just the first question that came to mind about that, but it’s more about general plans.”

this explained why you’d asked about marriage all of a sudden and he hummed in acknowledgment, thinking.

“i want to be long-term. i haven’t thought much about what i want, i guess, i’m pretty comfortable how we are right now, in our little flat with the jobs we have and the life we have. but i guess i should think about it, to like… see if our plans fit together, as you said.”

“i’d like to marry someday”, you admitted, “it’s always been something i wanted. the promise of ‘i’ll be with you, i won’t leave your side even if things get hard’, it’s comforting. of course i know divorces happen and everything, but i still think it’s a nice thought”, nuzzling your face into his chest because you were kind of embarrassed and part of you was incredibly scared that he wouldn’t want the same as you, because that would most likely be a deal-breaker for you.

“it is a nice thought. i haven’t really thought about marriage before, to be honest, but if it’s the right person then why not? i guess it’s not a must-have for me, but if it would make you happy then of course i’d marry you, some day. do you have anything else you really want? childhood dreams?”

“i think i’d like to go back to the countryside. get my own little house there, just move back to where i came from. it doesn’t have to be the same village, but i always feel like seoul is so hectic, so loud, there’s so much happening at once and you can never just go out and run. i miss that, i miss the freedom of feeling like you’re one of the only people in the whole wide world. but i know you love seoul, and i don’t want to make you leave just because of me”, you continued telling him about your dreams, your hopes and wishes, but in a way also the insecurities you held. the fear that one of you would have to give up their happiness for the other if you wanted to stay together.

“you really miss the countryside, don’t you?”, your boyfriend asked after he’d shuffled some so that you were no longer on top of him, instead the two of you were now face to face and he was looking at you with gentle, serious eyes.

“i do. i don’t think i’ve ever really felt at home in big cities, but i had to move for university, and i kind of just stayed here. i met you here, so it’s okay though.”

“if we get a house on the countryside i want an alpaca”, mingi told you, not actually suddenly because it fit with the topic, but sudden to you because you hadn’t expected this of him, not expected that he might genuinely consider moving and much less that he already had a plan for your first pet.

“an alpaca?”

“that’s been something i wanted when i was young”, a sheepish grin on his lips that you wanted to kiss so bad, but he was speaking and you were curious to hear what he was going to say.

“i used to love alpacas as a kid, i loved how soft they were and i’d tell my parents that when i’m big i’ll get an alpaca. i obviously can’t get one here in seoul, but if we move away maybe i could.”

he’d never considered moving away because he did love seoul, loved the endless opportunities, loved that there was always something to do, but he loved you more, and he was curious to see what living on the countryside was like, too. he’d always lived in seoul, different parts of it, sure, but he’d never not been a part of the big mass of people living in the capital, an anonymity he enjoyed, feeling like he was part of a big whole, like his individual mistakes weren’t so bad because for every mistake he made another person in seoul did something right. but maybe the anonymity and comfort of seoul could be replaced by a new kind of comfort, a comfort found in familiarity, in community. and, of course, in being with you in a place that genuinely made you happy.

“so an alpaca is on your future wishlist. any other things you’ve wanted but couldn’t get? or generally, things you want for your future. i want to know what would make you happy”, moving closer to finally peck his lips, shortly and sweetly, trying to show just how much his happiness meant to you. how much he meant to you.

“sunflowers. just lots of flowers, if i don’t have a black thumb. you know i need something to do, so a little garden is also on the wishlist. maybe i could even build a treehouse for our kids at some point.”

it seemed like he hadn’t even realised that he’d talked about having kids with you as an obvious part of your future, but that little word made you perk up, curiously and surprised again.

“kids?”

mingi wasn’t able to judge your tone, so he half backtracked, kind of insecure about something he wanted for his future.

“only if you want kids, too. it’s fine if you don’t, i just kind of really want a big family. or, not massive big, but maybe two kids, or three, i don’t know. but obviously this is your choice more than mine.”

“i love you��, you started your reply as you thought of how to continue, “and if i’m honest i’ve kind of thought about it too. when we were at the store two days ago and you helped this little boy find his mum, that was really cute, you were so sweet and gentle with him. not that you aren’t usually”, you quickly elaborated just in case he might get upset or insecure, “but that just felt… different. i don’t know how to describe it, but i noticed when you’re around kids you just… change, in a way. it feels like you adopt every single kid you’re around for the time you’re around them, and i love seeing that. but i’m kind of scared of everything kids mean. of the pregnancy and of not being a good mother, i’m scared of not being able to give them a secure environment. if i ever get kids i want to be ready, i want to have a house and a stable job and i want to be married to a man that’s going to stay and that’s going to work with me through all the hardships. and i guess i want you to be that guy.”

you were just rambling, really, but mingi got incredibly touched by your words. they were so honest, vulnerable, too, and they made his heart swell with love and adoration and a new, strange feeling. a really strong feeling of being home with you, really being home with you. in that moment he realised that he’d go to the ends of the world with you if that was what you wanted.

“i want to be that guy”, he said quietly and seriously, “i want to be there for our entire future. that’s how long-term i want to be. on your ninetieth birthday i want to be the one to hold your dentures as you blow out the candles.”

this image made you smile, both because it was silly and because it filled you with warmth.

“i want to spend my life with you. whatever future you want, as long as i get to be a part of it, i’m in.”

“you’re going to make me cry”, because tears were genuinely starting to form in your eyes, tears of appreciation and happiness and tears showing just how much his words touched you.

he just pulled you closer, craning his neck a little so your head fit in under his chin, so you could bury your face in his soft, warm skin as you fought back the tears, and his big, perfectly holdable hand rubbed your back.

“i love you. whatever you want, i want to be there. i want a home with you, i want a family with you, i want my entire future with you. if you want to move to the countryside, i’ll get a job on the countryside, and then we’ll get a house on the countryside, with enough room for if we decide to have kids, and a garden and a treehouse and an alpaca and your beautiful drawings all over the walls. i saw an article online a while ago, of this lady in i think poland that drew traditional patterns all over the houses in her village. i want you to paint our house like that, to put all your cute little knick-knacks everywhere. i want to make it a home with you, a home we can stay in. something that feels like us. i want my name on the doorbell, but then it’s our name. i want all of that, with you.”

your face was still buried in his neck and once his little speech was over he started kissing your head, softly and lovingly, a lot of small kisses that made you feel more loved than you’d ever had with anyone else before. mingi already was your home, but the thought of getting a new home, a physical place to call home with him made your heart speed up. he was everything you needed to be happy, but the joy you’d feel if you created a future together would be unmatched.

“i love you too. and i love your name. you really want me to get it?”

what you were really asking was you really want to marry me?, and he knew that was what you meant, his answer being a clear yes now that you’d put the image of a future with you into his head, the image of you in a beautiful dress walking towards him, the image of the two of you always wearing the ring that showed that you belonged with each other. he hadn’t been an especially romantic guy before he met you, and marriage had never been something he’d considered necessary for a happy relationship, but while he still didn’t think it was essential for a happy relationship he now thought that being together so clearly, so officially, so seriously might just make him the happiest man in the world. and the practical part of him knew that, especially if you decided to have kids, it would make things much easier. so yes, he wanted to marry you.

“you and no one else. except for maybe our little nuisances.”

the way he talked so affectionately of the children you didn’t even have yet had you press your head more closely against his shoulder, face now one hundred percent hidden in him, and had your heart clench happily and with a never before felt adoration.

“and your alpaca”, you added, lips brushing against his skin with every movement, and both this and the fact that you had so willingly accepted that you’d be getting an alpaca made him smile that huge smile you loved so much, even though you weren’t able to see it right now.

“and our alpaca.”

then, suddenly, the thought of the alpaca and your countryside house set a random bit of information free in him that he’d somehow forgotten about until now because it had never been important, but now it might just be the most important thing in his life.

“i might have a house for us”, in a voice coloured by wonder because life might just be playing right into his hands, and maybe starting a future with you could really be this easy.

you removed your head from where it was hidden at these words, looking at him curiously and with shining eyes, shining so brightly that he couldn’t help but kiss you before he explained.

“my parents are supposed to sell some uncle’s cousin’s twice removed or whatever’s house for his widow. i don’t actually know who he was or what the house is like, but i know that i never met them because they lived in the countryside and as a kid i wasn’t interested in watching cows chew grass all day. but maybe we could ask them to visit the house, check it out, because i know they’re desperate to sell it. and maybe we could get it for a good price, because i’m like, family and everything, if you want i can call them this afternoon? and we can visit this weekend.”

he’d talked himself into an incredible excitement, so that by now it sounded like it was actually him who wanted to move to the countryside and he was dragging you along, not vice versa.

“you’d really move away from seoul with me? like, you want to? it’s not just something you do to keep me happy now? because if you’re just doing it to keep me happy i don’t want to move, i don’t want you to start resenting me because i dragged you away from everyone and everything you know, i don’t want you to be bitter and angry and-”

you were shut up by him kissing your nose, and when he noticed this small moment of quiet surprise he took advantage of it and kissed your mouth now that it was no longer rapidly moving.

“i’d move to the end of the world with you without ever regretting it. i think a cute little house in the countryside really isn’t the worst option. and if it makes you happy then i’m happy.”

then, because your eyes were starting to shine in a different, suspiciously teary way again, he added: “and if we move to the countryside we can get a whole army of kids and no one can complain. and they can all ride on my alpaca.”

you surprised him when you grabbed his head and pulled him closer, hand buried in his hair as you crashed your lips against his, a passionate kiss that made it clear just how touched you were, how much you loved him, how much you wanted this with him, wanted a future with him, how grateful you were that you had him and would continue to have him.

“i’d love it if you called your parents about that. though we should maybe know where it is before we agree on a visiting time.”

“i’ll call them right now, what do you think? and then we can look for flowers we want in our garden. i think that’s easier to plan than an alpaca”, his signature goofy grin, “and we have to pick some that are going to look good in your wedding bouquet.”

in that moment you couldn’t have been happier, and neither could mingi, extremely excited about the possibility of being able to plan his future with you, an actual, tangible plan, as tangible as deciding on flowers for your garden of your first house.

“i think i love you”, you replied, causing your boyfriend to smile the beautiful smile he’d smiled before but that you’d missed, the one that made his eyes disappear behind his happy cheeks, before he replied: “and i think i love you too.”

and because he loved you so much he was going to marry you, and he was going to make it as perfect as you were.

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kokobop-fire · 4 years ago

Text

Birth {Kim SeokJin}

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the gifts that I use, algo English is not my first language so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

"I already have the results. Everything is fine; you only have what is known as Braxton hicks. It is your body preparing for the delivery" your gynecologist smiled at you. "Now you can go, try to relax and enjoy your last days as much as you can."

She left your room, leaving you alone with Jin; you sighed, relaxing a bit, you placed a hand on your belly, you were sure that you had gone into labor.

"Im really sorry, Jin," you apologized. Jin looked up from his phone, most likely telling the boys that it was a false alarm.

"Jagi, it's not your fault. It's something you can't control" he kissed you on the forehead. "At least it served us as practice."

You smiled slightly. Even so, the guilt did not leave your body. Everything happened fast. One moment you were singing at the top of your lungs and screaming in the middle of the boy's concert, and the next minute, you felt a stabbing pain in your lower belly.

You were as fast as you could backstage, ten minutes later, Jin found himself next to you on the way to the hospital, you felt bad because he left the concert, the fans paid to see the 7 of them.

"Jin ... Really sorry, this was your last concert without being a dad, you had to enjoy it to the fullest. Besides, we weren't ready, it's only two weeks until the baby arrives, and we don't have anything, we don't have a car seat, the nursery is not ready, and the hospital bag is not ... "Jin shut you up with a kiss."

"Honey, don't worry, we will have everything ready for when the baby arrives," He got at the height of your belly, "and you young lady enjoys your time in there, you got me exciting for nothing" she gave you a light kiss belly.

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

You smiled when Jin painted Jimin's shirt, causing him to start whine; seven days ago, you had begun to have your Braxton Hicks, no day passed that the contractions intensified the pain.

Today the boys were in charge of decorating your princess's room, and you were taking advantage of it to start preparing individual dishes for Jin's birthday, which was the next day.

You were also using it to take care of Jung Hwa and practice when your baby is here. You started to sing to him while you gave him some banana-flavored puff cereal; Jung Hwa started laughing. He had the same smile as his Dad.

"Jagi, the room is ready," you heard Jin's voice; you took Jung Hwa before heading to your baby's future room.

The room was beautiful. Everything was white with purple and pink. There were several butterflies and alpacas you entered your room and took the RJ teddy that was in the crib. "OMG, the room is beautiful, thank you very much, but someone can explain to me what does this stuffed animal in the baby's crib."

"RJ is my first baby. Let her occupy the crib for a while until my princess arrives," Jin replied with a smile.

"Really, guys, thank you very much for helping me with the nursery; with this, I have almost everything ready for the baby's arrival."

"Anything for our future niece is no problem."

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

You groaned loudly when you were finally able to get out of bed without Jin's help. You looked at the 12:01 AM clock; it was officially your beautiful Boyfriend's birthday.

You heard how the water fell from the shower. An hour ago, since the boys have left, you entered the kitchen looking for the little cake you had prepared for him. You entered the room, finding Jin sitting on the bed, shirtless and only in his pajama bottoms. He was concentrating on looking at his phone.

Before you could start singing Happy Birthday, Jin looked up, smiling at you. "You remembered our tradition."

You agreed, lighting the candle again. "Of course, this tradition I could fulfill it this year, now make a wish"

The tradition of the little cake started on your first birthday of Jin being his girlfriend, you were just graduating from college, and you didn't have enough money to buy him an expensive gift, so you decided to make him a cake from scratch, something that he loved. And you kept doing it.

Jin closed his eyes for a moment before blowing out the candle. "I'm ready for the next tradition."

"Babe, there's no way I'm going to do it, I look like a whale, and I don't feel sexy." "For me, you are the sexiest woman in the world, and besides this year, you have fewer clothes than other years" Jin winked at you. "Tradition is tradition."

You lowered your gaze to your belly; you only had an old strappy sweater that now fit you like a crop top leaving your giant stomach exposed and some small pajama pants that Jin had to help you put on.

"Do it, babe. I want to see you doing the strip dance."

The other gift you gave Jin for her birthday was a strip dance that became a tradition for her birthday.

You closed your eyes, sighing heavily. "Ready for your eyes to bleed?"

"That will never happen."

You started humming a song while trying to dance "You like this Boy?" You rubbed your belly while trying to dance sexually. You began to move your sweater slightly, letting the hillock of your breasts look more pronounced.

Jin laughed when you tried to lower your pants, but you almost fell in the attempt. "Im going to gag you dead if you keep laughing."

Jin moved his hands over your non-existent waist before lowering them to your butt and spanking you. You moaned slightly for the feeling, "Happy 28th to you, I love you so much, but I can't anymore. My back hurts too much" you lay down on his side.

"Princess, do you have any idea how much I love you and your mother?" he started kissing your belly.

"She Knows, now shut up and lie down to sleep" run a hand through his soft hair.

"I'm sorry, darling, but tradition is tradition, so princess, close your eyes, that dad is going to do terrible things to your mother" you smiled slightly. You could feel the heaviness in your eyes.

"How is it possible that you want to have sex with me right now?"

"Do you know how sexy you are? I always want to have sex with you. I don't know what I did to have a beautiful girlfriend like you. "Jin murmured against your neck.

I was going to answer him when you felt like a liquid began to go down your legs. "Jin, I think my water broke."

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

You let out another cry when you felt another contraction again. Jin took your hand. "Breathe deeply, Love."

It was already seven in the morning, and the baby gave no signs that she would be out any time soon. "Shut the fuck up, Jin."

You couldn't take the pain anymore; Jin's mother and the boys had already visited you. The boys' visit was quick to avoid attracting attention. During the day, they would go out in public and try to entertain the paparazzi.

Something you were deeply grateful for, the last thing you needed to worry about was the fans and paparazzi.

"If you think about it, maybe the baby and I have the same birthday."

"I know."

Your gynecologist came into your room. "How are you?"

"For the moment, fine, I just can't stand the pain anymore" She nodded slightly before checking your vaginal dilation.

"Well, it's ready to push. You're 8 centimeters. It's enough for you to start pushing" the gynecologist left the room just as began another strong contraction.

"Breath Jagi, the pain will soon end" Jin retook your hand.

"Jin, I love you, so I apologize for anything I say to you for the next few minutes" you connected your lips with his

The gynecologist came back in accompanied by two nurses. "Ready?"

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

"Push, you are going to push for the next 5 seconds, keep going," your gynecologist told you before starting counting slightly.

"I Cant" you yelled, interrupting her. Your entire lower back hurt, and you were covered in sweat.

Jin was taking one of your legs to facilitate your birthing position "the next contraction should be in 30 seconds."

"I can't keep pushing," you whimpered. You could feel your whole face hot from the effort. You screamed again when you felt the contraction. You started to push harder.

"I know you can love" Jin lightly wiped the sweat from your forehead.

"The Head has already come out, (Y / N) I need you to push harder for the shoulders to come out" You started Push again.

"Oh my God," you shouted again before feeling the pain magically go away, little cries began to fill the room.

"She is so beautiful, Jagi" Jin had tears in his eyes. The nurse placed the baby on your chest after they cleaned her.

Jin took her in her arms. She looked extremely tiny against Jin's chest. You felt your eyes fill with tears. "Happy birthday. I hope you like my present."

"You are kidding me? I love it. I want another one like that for my next birthday" He leaned in, giving you another kiss on the forehead, before wiping the tears that were running down your face. "Thank you (Y / N). You make me the happiest man in the world.

You smiled at his words. If five years ago they had told you that you were going to go out with an idol and have his baby, you would have laughed in his face. You always imagined that you would end up with a lawyer, but life is full of surprises, and you were grateful that Jin was one of them.

The baby began to cry until they leaned her against your chest again. "I Love You, baby girl" you lightly kissed her little head.

Kim Soo Jin {김수진} Born on (12/04)

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poc-movie-supremacy · 4 years ago

Text

Ain’t time a funny thing?

“you’ve changed” - the legends meeting gary after he was stuck in hell for three years Please Thank you so much

This is for @missing-tony I hope you like it!

-----

They really didn’t mean to leave Gary in hell for 3 years. It was entirely unintentional. They were on what would be the second to last mission before they saved Sara from the aliens. It was an all hands on deck mission, so they got John, Zari, Behrad, Mick, Ava, Nate, and Gary. An alien ship attacked them and John tried to send a few of them too hell, but they took Gary with them.

Behrad called Astra and Charlie to help them defeat the aliens. To Ava the mission was a massive failure. Zari broke an arm, Behrad lost a finger, and Mick got knocked unconscious. They dragged him to the medbay where Gideon promised he would be in good hands. Ava called anyone who could make it, to congregate in the main room. She rubbed her shoulder in pain wondering if she had pulled something in the fight.

“Okay everyone, roll call.” They started doing roll calls after Sara got kidnapped, to prevent further kidnappings. Nate, Astra, and Charlie said aye and Gideon informed them that John, Zari, Behrad, and Mick were residing in the medbay currently.

“Well that’s everyone right, That’s 8 people? Did we have 8 people when the battle started?” Ava started counting people on her fingers. She came to the realization the same moment Gideon told them what was up.

“GARY!” Ava exclaimed.

“Gary’s gone? Where did he go? Are you sure he’s not just unconscious somewhere on the ship?” Nate asked.

“I’m afraid not Dr. Heywood. When Mr. Constantine sent some of those aliens to hell, they took Mr. Green with them. I suggest a rescue team be assembled before something happens to him.” Gideon’s cool metallic voice advised them.

Ava rubbed the palms of her hands over her face. “Right, right. Astra, John, and I will go, Charlie and Nate you are backup. Keep an eye on the injured, fix the ship, please thank you.”

They did not fix the ship. Nate and Charlie stayed with the Tarazis and Rory in the medbay keeping them company. Charlie kissed Astra on the cheek before watching her and Ava and John take the jumpship to John’s house which has the easiest entrance to hell. Gideon was using a lot of her energy to regrow Behrad’s finger, and heal Mick’s concussion, so she couldn’t warn them of one thing. The Aliens damaged the ship so badly that When the rescue team headed to 2019, they accidentally ended up in 2021. Without realizing this, John opened the door to hell, leading the way to find a slightly different Gary Green.

It took them a while to find Gary. Astra planned on using her connections in hell, but for some reason the people were acting weird around her. After an hour of this, John lost his patience and used a spell to track Gary.

They walked to the edge of town to find a small hut. Ava politely knocks on the door while Astra and John subtly prepare for a fight behind her. A tall slightly muscular man with curly black hair opens the door. Next thing Ava knows, the life is being squeezed out of her, and the man called her name happily.

“Wait a minute,” Astra starts.

“Gary?!” John finishes. The man pulls away to then hug John and nod happily at Astra.

“Hey guys, wow you haven’t changed a bit. It’s nice to see you guys again, come in.” Gary motioned themselves in the hut. Ava shrugged her shoulders at John and Astra and the trio followed Gary into the small house.

“You’ve changed though Gary.” Astra commented. They only lost him for a few minutes, how could he have changed in so little time.

Gary gave her a weird look. If you spend three years in hell, wouldn’t you look a little different? he thought to himself. “Oh yeah. You guys hungry? Got no upperworld food, but what I got’s not half bad.” Gary told them.

“Um sure, Gary.” Ava told him. She wanted to get out of here as fast as possible, but she wanted to make sure everything was ok.

He got out some cups and poured out a dark liquid. John, Astra, and Ava took a seat around the table. They watched as Gary took a sip out of the dark red liquid. John sniffed it to make sure it was safe then blinked his, Astra, and Ava’s cups out of their hands. “It’s slightly poisonous especially to humans. Who are you, Gary could never drink so much and survive.” John waved his hands as if to cast a spell on the person sitting across from him.

Gary rolled his eyes. “I developed an immunity to the poison years ago. I must’ve forgotten that you guys don’t have the same immunity. I mean, you guys weren’t trapped in hell for three years.” Gary paused and thought for a second. “Except you Astra. You’re followers told me to tell you that General Gage is trying to take your throne. He was mean, so I stole his dick. I didn’t want to go too far though, thought you might want to have the last words and all.”

“You did what?” Astra asked him, surprised. Gary was, peaceful. It was hard to imagine the man in front of her being violent.

“He was being a dick, and saying mean things about you, so I took his dick. He isn’t allowed to be mean to my friends, even if they aren’t or weren’t around to hear it. I would’ve gone farter, but I figured you might want to get the last word in. You know slit his throat or something. I learned the dick stealing trick from you though John, so thanks.”

“Your welcome, Gary. Did you say three years?” John was confused. When he left the ship it was 2019, not 2021, though it could explain the slight differences in Gary.

“Yeah,” Gary stretched the word out as if it were obvious. “When you sent the aliens to hell they took me with them. I was in their control for a year before I managed to break out. Got this little shack over the next two years.”

“It’s a nice shack Gary.” Ava complimented. “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

“Because it’s easy to send people to hell, not escape. If it were easy I’d’ve been out a long time ago. Thank you for sticking up for me.” Astra told Gary.

“Of course, team mate. Thanks for rescuing me, all of you. I was going to resort to turning some hierer up into a alpaca. I did make this plan before I figured out how to get consistent heat into this place, so the choice of animal probably would’ve changed.” Gary rambled.

Ava gave him a soft smile. It was nice to know that three years hadn’t changed Gary too much. Before they left, they payed General Gage a little visit. Ava threatened him, Gary melted his teeth and Astra slit his throat. It surely taught the citizens of hell not to mess with Astra, or her friends. John took them back to the upperworld and from there they went to the waverider.

“Ah it’s nice to know you’re okay Mr. Green. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you before, but the jumpship is a little faulty. It took you to 2021 instead of 2019.”

They all shared a knowing look and an exasperated smile. Ava and Astra calculated all the damages done to the ship while John took Gary to the medbay. It was a nice feeling when almost all of their teammates were safe. “We’ll find you next Captain.” Gary whispered softly as he let Gideon heal him.

#legends of tomorrow #gary green #ava sharpe #john constantine #astra logue #ella's legends fics #we're all fic writers here

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flora-jimin · 5 years ago

Text

Rescue Me

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology Masterlist

Pairing: ReaderX Jihope

WC: 3k+

Genres: NSFW, Fluff, Mild Angst, Winter Fairy AU, Fantasy

Summary: This wasn’t the wisest of choices, venturing deep into a forest like this, forbidden to you. But you had to see if the stories you were told when you were a child were true, of a land of human-like creatures who had long since become one with nature. But curiosity killed the cat, as they say. When your knees finally hit the snow and you blacked out, you didn’t expect to wake back up. Fortunately, you’ve ventured into the land of unexpected.

Warnings: Near Death and smut, that’s about it, lovelies.

“In this land, full of wonder, people are one with nature, Y/n.”

Your eyes lit up, full of wonder as your mother flipped through the pages of an old book. She rocked gently in her chair, kissing the top of your head as her finger ran over the old pages. It was Christmas morning, the snowflake pendant your mother gave you situated around your neck as you listened to her words.

“This is where you belong, my little snow angel.” She cooed, pointing to the page with the small princess, surrounded by snow and small animals.

“Amongst the snow fairies. Deep in the forest, one with nature. When you get older, I have hope you’ll return. To where you belong, my sweet little snow fairy.”

“This is a stupid idea.”

It was probably the 100th time you uttered those words today. Your cheeks were cold despite the scarf you had pulled up to your face. You took a moment, stopping as you surveyed your surroundings.

It had been years since your mother last read that story to you, and the picture book was a graduation gift she gave to you, along with enough money to travel to celebrate your new freedom from college.

“It’s time, Y/n. Go out and find them. They’ll tell you everything you need to know.” was the last thing she said to you before she kissed your head and pushed the book into your hands.

Now here you were, trekking through the snow in boots that definitely weren’t made for this type of trip, in a forest closed to the public in the winter months due to heavy volumes of snow and low visibility that made rescues in the event of emergencies a near impossibility.

So again, this was a stupid ass idea.

No one knew you were here. You weren't even supposed to be here, and as you felt the cold creep into your bones, your shivering much too strong to ignore, you realized your curiosity may have lead you to a terrible situation much too late to turn back from.

You looked around you, frowning as you saw another pine tree identical to every other one around you, feeling the strength in your legs finally give out, falling into the snow with a weak sound.

Dots crossed your vision before everything went black.

-x-

"Are you sure she's going to be alright?"

"Yeah! We got her some sweaters and blankets-"

You groan, faintly hearing voices above you. Before you could pinpoint what-or who-they were, they halted, and you had a hand on your head, followed by two on your cheeks.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

You crack your eyes open, brows furrowing as you look up to see a man looking down at you. He was frowning, concern clear on his face, but the moment he saw you look up, he smiled wide, reminding you of a heart.

"You're awake! Things were pretty rough there for a bit." He examined your face a bit closer than necessary and the man behind him cleared his throat, tilting his head.

"She's a human, Hoseok. She can't understand Fae." He told him quietly.

'Hoseok' looked crestfallen at the revelation, but you finally sat up, speaking quietly.

"I can understand you both just fine." You mutter, gently pushing Hoseok’s hands away from your face as you pushed yourself back away from him and the other man. They both looked at you in surprise, eyes wide.

“Wait, you can understand us?”

“Yes? Am I not supposed to be able to understand you?”

“We’re fairies. We speak Fae. You were found in the forest from the outside by our familiars, so we assumed you were a human.” Hoseok explained, scratching the back of his head. You stared at him and the other man for a long time before you swallowed thickly, suddenly fully alert.

“Fairies. You two are...fairies.”

“Yes. That’s Hoseok, and my name is Jimin. Who are you? Where is your familiar?” the smaller man cut in, kneeling in front of you. You opened your mouth to tell him you didn’t have one when something yellow jumped on top of his head. Your eyes drifted up to the yellow blob and it looked at you curiously, it’s floppy ears drooping down past it’s head as it stared at you.

After a beat of silence, it stuck it’s tongue out.

“Chim?”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” You flung yourself back, looking at the dog like creature. It startled and toppled off of Jimin’s head, rolling down into his arms before it began crying, bringing its hands? Paws? Up to its face.

“Woah! Relax, you’re going to scare them! This is Chimmy, my familiar.” Jimin explained, cooing gently to Chimmy. You pursed your lips at the creature, noticing something sniffing at your arm. When you looked down, you saw a small creature the size of a toddler with a purple body and a blue horse mask on. When it noticed you looking at it, it pressed it’s heart shaped nose to your arm, something followed by a smooching sound.

A warm feeling spread through your body as you smiled, reaching down to pet the small creature.

“Oh...they’re kinda cute…” You mused, looking over at Jimin’s familiar to wave the small yellow dog over to you. They perked and shuffled out of his lap, hesitantly waddling over to you before allowing you to pet their head.

“I’m sorry I scared you, little one.” You apologized, smiling when Chimmy crawled into your lap, wiggling their feet happily.

“This is so weird. She can understand us, so she has to be a fairy, but she has no familiar. And that necklace…”

That caught your attention, and you looked back at the men in the room, eyes narrowing when it dawned on you that your clothes had been changed.

“You...did you look at me naked?”

Both of them looked at you with wide eyes, putting their hands up defensively.

“No! We just used a spell to change your clothes because the ones you had on were wet and caked in snow. I guess since you don’t have a familiar, you didn’t have full protection from the cold. That was dangerous, you know, coming into this forest in the middle of a snowstorm without a familiar. You might actually be a human…” Hoseok trailed off when there was a knock on the door. All attention turned towards it and Hoseok put a hand on his hip.

“Mang, can you open the door? I called Namjoon and the others to see what we should do.”

The purple and blue horse familiar nodded eagerly, hopping out of your lap to run full speed to the door, jumping up to grab the handle. When it opened, a tall dimpled man walked in first with a blue koala clinging to his shoulder, seemingly sleeping. He was followed by a broad shouldered man and his alpaca eating...a churro, a smaller man with sleepy eyes with a cookie familiar the size of a Pomeranian on his head, and two energetic men, one with a pink bunny with a peculiar eyebrow and the other with a heart shaped alien familiar with long, spotted arms.

“Ah, you must be the person we found in the snow. Are you alright?” the dimpled man inquired. You nodded, running your hand over the top of Chimmy’s head as the five newcomers introduced themselves and their familiars.

“So...I’m in the land of fairies-”

“Snow fairies.” Tae added happily.

“Right. Snow fairies, and because I can understand you, I must be a fairy too. I just...don’t have a familiar. And because of it...I’m not a full fairy?” You summarized everything they had told you in the past half an hour. You were met with an array of nods and your shoulders slumped as you looked down at your lap, smiling when Cooky bumped your cheek with their ear.

“Can I see? The rest of the town, that is?” You inquire, squeezing the small rabbit in a hug as you looked up. Jimin was the first to move, extending a hand to you. You pushed yourself off of the wooden mats on the floor, looking around for your shoes as Jimin took your hand.

“You don’t need them, just wait.” Hoseok told you, smiling as you all walked outside of the house. You noticed the ground below you felt soft, but it wasn’t cold at all. Curious, you ground your heel into the snow, smiling at the soft, almost cotton like feel of it as the other men and their familiars filtered out as well.

They walked you through the snow, animatedly telling you of the town’s inhabitants and how you were the first person in a while that had came in from the outside.

“You can only enter this place when it’s snowing hard outside. Seeing how we found you, I’m guessing it’s not an easy journey to get here. You were still two or so miles away from this place.” Jimin explained once you all had sat down near a lake. Hoseok took his spot at the other side of you.

“That would do it...the forest on the outside has been closed off to the public when it snows. I snuck in because my mother always told me fairytales of this place and she told me to come find it.” You idly fingered the snowflake necklace around your neck, looking out as the familiars skated across the surface of the frozen lake.

“Do you want to go back? We can see if it’s still snowing and-”

“No. No, I wanna stay here. I want to see why my mother wanted me to come here so bad. If I’m a fairy, I have to find my familiar, too.” You looked down at your lap, smiling as Mang played with your hands, stamping their heart shaped nose against your palms every now and then.

Jimin and Hoseok exchanged a look before smiling.

-6 Months Later-

Getting accustomed to the snow fairies happened much faster than you expected. They were all kind and welcoming, showing you how they got by and how certain jobs were distributed between them.

Because of your lack of powers, you nominated yourself as a caretaker of newborn familiars, hoping you would find one for you amongst all of the glittering eggs. Hoseok and Jimin were always right there to help you, too, teaching you to care for the familiars until they could be set out into the world to pair with their fairies.

You set a small snow fox familiar to bed and turned around, smiling as you walked directly into Hoseok’s arms, your cheeks growing hot as he pressed a small kiss to your lips before pulling away and sending you a sunshine smile. Before you could tease him for the cheesy move, there was a knock on the door to the nursery and both of you turned to find Jimin standing in the doorway, brow arched.

“Do I get sappy kisses too or…?”

Ah, yes. Over the months, while getting you settled in, you somehow found yourself falling for both men. At first it was something that terrified you to no end, especially after finding out soon after you arrived that they were already together, but one long late night talk with Yoongi and you found out the fairies were a very loving and accepting race.

Poly relationships amongst them weren’t an uncommon thing, and you were spared the awkward experience of trying to subtly see if they were interested in you when Jimin asked you out over dinner one evening.

You sauntered over to the man, kissing him as well as you smiled.

“C’mon, all the babies are asleep for tonight. We should head home.” You suggested, letting Chimmy climb up your leg. You held them as the three of you walked out of the nursery.

“How long do you think it’s going to be until I get a familiar?” You mused, watching Hoseok and Jimin swing Mang gently to and fro between them as they held their hand.

“It something that has to happen naturally. You’ll find a familiar and be a full fairy in no time, just you wait!” Jimin happily encouraged you. You sighed slightly, smiling as you approached your shared home, kissing the top of Chimmy’s head.

“Even if I don’t become a full fairy, I think I’m okay with how things are.” You mutter as you put the small dog down once you were inside.

“I live in a beautiful house with two beautiful partners, and I love Mang and Chimmy as if they were my own familiars. I’m grateful for what I have.”

Your boyfriends exchanged a look with one another before smiling wide, closing the door behind them.

“I’m positive it’s just around the corner, Y/n. Especially with that attitude. Just wait, you’ll see.” Hoseok chirped as he and Jimin headed to the kitchen to start cooking.

-x-

You smiled, letting your dress fall to the bathroom floor as you stepped into the shower, wrapping your arms around Jimin. He kissed you gently, though it melted into much more in no time, with you pressing your breasts against his chest as the warm water beat down on you.

"I'm glad you stayed with us." He whispered against your lips, cupping your cheek gently. You pressed your face into his hand, nodding.

"I feel like I belong."

"You do belong, Y/n." Hobi's voice cut in and you felt him slot himself in right behind you, kissing up your neck. You sighed, baring your neck to them both as they switched between kissing and leaving lovebites on your skin.

"You'll stay with us, right?"

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you now.” You nodded, turning to seal your lips against Hoseok��s. Jimin moved his mouth down to your breasts, gently rolling one of your nipples between his fingers while he closed his plump lips around the other.

“We should-ahh-we should move to the bedroom.” You suggest, whimpering when Hoseok reached around, his hand between your legs, rubbing your core ever so slightly. He chuckled behind you, his lips near your ear as he rubbed you gently.

“You sure, Y/n? I think we should play a little more in here.” He urged, his other hand caressing your ass cheek. You blush and looked forward to Jimin for some form of help, but he only chuckled lowly, moving up to kiss you again as Hoseok slid a finger into you.

You moan against his lips, pressing yourself fully to him as Hoseok kissed up your spine, muttering gentle praise and compliments to you. It didn’t take long for you to break your kiss with Jimin, moaning shakily as Hoseok slid another in to join the first, slowly stretching you apart with extra care.

“H-Hobi, go faster, please…” You whine, blushing as Jimin moved past your shoulder, kissing Hoseok as the older man obliged, curling his fingers before thrusting them in and out of you. The water had gotten cold before you felt a third finger enter you.

“I-I’m close-” You whimper, squeezing Jimin’s shoulders tight as he and Hoseok continued to kiss each other. Your words were enough to get their attention as Hoseok eased them out of you, smiling when you whined between them.

“No whining, baby girl. We should make sure you’re comfortable, right?” Jimin teased. Before you could complain, he picked you up, carrying you out of the shower. Hoseok trailed behind you after he turned the shower off, sending you a small smile as you looked over Jimin’s shoulder at him. You shyly smile back, feeling heat creep up to your ears,

This wasn’t the first time you had made love, but every time you did, the boys always looked at you with such caring and gentle gazes, it never failed to make you feel appreciated and loved.

They took their time drying off with you and soon the three of you were back to it, with you between both Hoseok and Jimin, with Hoseok’s fingers back inside of you and both of them paying attention to your sensitive nubs.

One tangle of limbs later and Jimin was the first to actually enter you, holding you tight as Hoseok prepped him, watching your expression over the smaller man’s shoulder.

“You look so beautiful like this, Y/n.” At this point, you couldn’t tell which one of them had praised you as you focused on the feeling of Jimin’s hips rolling down, thrusting in and out of you as you clung to him. Hoseok wasn’t far behind, kissing the base of Jimin’s spine as he thrusted into him.

Jimin whined low, dropping his head between your neck and shoulder as his hips stuttered. You purred, running your hand through his hair as Hoseok wasted no time, setting a quick pace behind you, his hands on Jimin’s slender waist.

“Don’t stop now, Jimin. Y/n sounded so close before.” Hoseok politely urged, smiling as Jimin trembled and shakily raised himself up, looking down into your eyes as he continued his pace from before.

The three of you didn’t last long after that, with you coming undone first, followed by Jimin and Hoseok.

“You guys are heavy.” You complain lightly, swatting at Jimin’s chest when he collapsed on top of you after Hoseok came shortly after him. You were met with kisses and Hoseok tossing a leg over you both despite your playful protests.

You all settled in, and at some point Mang and Chimmy joined the cuddle pile, sleeping soundly at the foot of the bed.

-Epilogue-

You frowned, holding up the two toned egg at the bottom of the basket in the nursery. Normally, familiar eggs hatched within days of them being produced, but this one had been in your care for over three weeks.

Still. Unmoving.

You sat down, hugging the egg to you as you rocked gently.

“Don’t worry. I won’t give up on you, little one. You’ll be a wonderful familiar for someone, okay?” You pet the top of it, blinking when you felt something inside move. Your lips parted as a crack appeared on the side.

“H-Hobi! Jimin!” You called, gasping as the egg shook more aggressively. The two ran into the room, eyes wide as the egg continued to shake and crack. You set it down, stepping back as it finally cracked in half, the two different color sides of the egg falling away to reveal a small gray and white familiar with peculiar eyes.

“Oh! Hello!” You knelt down, smiling at the newborn.

“My name is, Y/n. Who are you?”

“...Van.” The little familiar chirped before they looked at your necklace. They perked, bouncing eagerly until they flew up into your face, tilting their head.

“I think you got yourself a familiar, Y/n.” Jimin chuckled, watching as your necklace gleamed at the same time as Van’s eyes. You look up in surprise before holding your palm out. You snapped your fingers experimentally, gasping in surprise when a small swirl of snow appeared above your hand.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m a full fairy!” You cheered, picking Van up excitedly. It was hard to tell what they were feeling with their expression, but if the way they hugged you tight was anything to go by, they were excited to be paired with you.

“See? I knew it would work out.” Hoseok cheered, tossing a hand over your shoulder. You wiped away a happy tear, kissing the top of Van’s head as you left the nursery, fingers laced with them both as Chimmy and Mang rode on their respective owner’s heads. Van flew over you all, twirling and spinning until you looked up, noticing it was drawing a snowflake in the sky, along with a small stylized picture of your face.

You may not have expected to wake up again when your knees hit that snow all those months ago. But thankfully, you ventured into a land of unexpected wonders and the moment you were saved, you started a new chapter in your life.

You squeezed Hoseok and Jimin’s hands tighter, your heart fluttering as the three of you walked with your familiars, three winter fairies in the gentle powder snow.

#25daysofbtsxmas #bts fic #jihope x reader #bts smut #bts fluff

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vesuviannights · 5 years ago

Note

mc murders someone and main 6 reacts?

Hello anon! This one took me a little longer than expected. I really wanted to play around with each of the main 6/MC interactions instead of making them a generic murder scenario. MC has murdered someone each time, but it varies between accidental, intentional and dubious (and also one SUPER intentional murder). MC is always gender neutral. Hope you enjoy! also i had to have someone resend this in because i accidentally deleted it like a FOOL forgive me

Asra (accidental murder)

Returns to the shop after an extended trip away to find you curled up on the floor, just by the dried herbs. He had cut his trip short because he’d felt it, something had changed, the half of his heart you had was trembling

He shakes you awake, soft words and soft hands, and when you look up to him – broken gaze, parted lips – he doesn’t ask, just scoops you into his arms and takes you home

A warm bath with soft candlelight. He still doesn’t ask, maybe he just knows already. He checks you over to make sure there’s no blood, no hairs, no evidence—he could magic it away in an instant but he knows you need a familiar touch to comfort you, to let you know that you’re still worthy of it

He still doesn’t ask. When you’re clean, he dries you, clothes you, wraps you in the soft Alpaca blanket he bought on one of his more recent adventures. Starts the fire, tucks you in right by it to warm you up. Runs his hand through your hair until you fall asleep

When you wake the next morning, he’s waiting with breakfast and a hot drink. He’s in different clothes than the night before you think. You know he’s gone out and taken care of it, used his magic to cover the tracks you were too panicked to after the accident

When you’re ready to speak about it, he’s there, but until then he still won’t ask

And if you’re never okay to speak about it, if you never want to confess out loud, he understands and he’ll love you anyway and would protect you with his life

Julian (accidental or intentional murder, you decide)

You tell him outright what happened, no detail is spared, because you know the knowledge that you had kept something from him would hurt him more than the actual act of you murdering someone

He is quiet for a little while after you finish telling him, eyes distant

“Thank you for telling me, MC. It means more than you know.”

He wants you to show him where, if you’re okay with it, because he wants to make sure there’s nothing about the body or the scene that could link to you

Goes into full-blown Plague Doctor mode when you show him where you hid it, just under a bridge on the outskirts of the city (because that was all this fucker deserved) – murmuring to himself, leaning in close, almost completely forgets that you are there and the world is around him

You wait in the shadows as he methodically looks over the body; he touches it a few times, you think he’s changing something to keep you safe, but you don’t have the words to ask

When he’s done, he turns back to you, his reassuring lopsided smile back on his features as he wipes his hands on his clothes

He says no one will know, not unless you tell them, you’re safe

Asks you if you want to stay in Vesuvia – whatever reason this happened, if it stays on your mind, you can leave together. Sail the seas. For a little while or a long while. But you can also ignore it, it’ll be easy enough to do so

Takes you back to your home and draws a bath for the two of you to sit in together while you think about your answer. He pulls his fingers through your hair and sings—a little lot offkey—while you do.

Lucio (intentional murder)

You knew the minute the blood spattered on your face that there was only one way out for you. Cloaked, you make your way to the palace by night, and as the guards close the doors for the last time you slip inside

His first words aren’t about the blood, the slight shake to your lips, the different way you’re standing – it’s if they deserved it

He immediately says he doesn’t care, waves the question off as though it didn’t make a difference – he would help you either way

He’s in instant Count mode, barking orders at his guards, directing them to the part of the city you had left the still-warm corpse

He snaps at anyone who looks at you too long, even though they’ve all seen you there before, the Count’s wicked little magician

When you’re the only two in the room, he’s pacing, the fingers on his golden hand clicking as they twitch

When you’re about to turn and leave, he turns to you, shakes his head, promises no one will ever know, and he’ll throw anyone who finds out and wants to use it against you onto a one-way ferry to the Lazaret

He pushes you through the halls of the palace to his private rooms (you’ve seen them so many times before but he’s always taken comfort in being in control, and you suppose this is no exception)

He turns on his shower, tells you to get in, strips down alongside you

Only when you’re under the water together does he soften a little, pulling you into his chest, pulling his hands through your hair

He murmurs to you, just barely loud enough to be heard over the slap of the water against your skin: I always loved that there was a little bit of the devil inside of you

Muriel (intentional but unwanted murder)

He finds you doing it, standing over the still-twitching body

He’s ashamed to admit that he’s horrified at first. The sight of so much blood makes him step back a little, even though it’s you, even though he’d do anything for you, he still can’t handle it

His horror passes quickly and then he looks worried, not because of the blood, not because of the poor soul beneath you with the life draining out of their corpse, but because it’s you, because it doesn’t made sense to him

He lets you stutter out that you didn’t want to, you were made to, someone forced you into it

And his pained heart grows a little bit more for you, because he knows that feeling, that helplessness, that belief that there is no alternative—and perhaps there wasn’t for you

Quietly, he kisses the top of your head, picks you up and places you to the side

He handles the body gently, moves it into the overgrown archway of a nearby, abandoned shop, where people should really only find it if they go looking for it

He turns back to you, still so quiet, and picks you up and tucks you into his chest, covers you with his coat

He walks you back to your home, places you in the bathtub, runs it just the way you like. As he’s removing your blood-stained clothes (after asking you quietly if it was okay) he tells you that everything will be fine, you don’t have to explain what happened or who made you do it or why, but if it happens again you need to tell him, he’ll put an end to it, he promises

Nadia (insanely intentional murder)

You are dragged to the palace to face her after you were discovered standing over as still-warm corpse, blood spattered on your garments, knife in hand. You didn’t even try to stop them from seeing you or taking you.

Nadia comes to see you immediately, the second the lock clicks into place. The guard sneers at you, murmurs a word in some language you don’t know that you’re sure is an insult. Nadia’s expression makes them cower and run.

You willingly did it, of course. A fucking abusive asshole. No one deserves that treatment, and you would sooner give up your magic than see such a vile, despicable person continue to walk the earth unscathed

Nadia’s eyes gleam, almost proud, as she calls for the guard to return. They do, grumbling, and she snatches the keys from their belt to unlock the door

Ignoring their gaping, their insistence that all criminals must be trialled for their crimes regardless of who they are, she waves him off and pulls you in, lips to yours, and sighs softly into them

You must look a little worried, some of your righteous bravado gone, because she pushes your hair out of your face and shakes her head at you

“How could I ever be ashamed of or want to punish someone who protects my people from the vile creatures who wish to do them harm?”

And then she takes you back to the higher levels of the palace, walking you proudly—hand in hand, blood spattered—through the halls straight to her quarters, where she proceeds to bathe you and tell you more of exactly how proud she is

Portia (accidental or intentional murder, you decide)

Enters Big Sister™ mode even though she’s the little sister (but Lord knows Ilya has needed to be helped out of so many pickles that she has this specific Mode for occasions such as this)

If you start to shake when you tell her she sits you down, places Pepi in your lap, goes to fetch you some cookie dough ice cream

Along with Big Sister™ mode, she is also so used to running the palace staff and finding all the tricky ways to do things that she already has plans A through Z in her mind, ranging from if you still need to hide a body to if someone even mildly suspects you did anything

She’s a little pale through the whole ordeal but always reassuring you she still loves you, still cherishes you, she doesn’t think anything less of you, and you know each word is true

Sits with you running her hand through your hair, all night and all day if it has to be

Much like Asra, won’t push or pull either way. Yes, she has all these plans, but if you don’t tell her anything more then she won’t ask for more because the most important thing is that you are okay and if it comes down to breaking you out of jail or sneaking around Vesuvia to get you free of the city, she’ll do either gladly

#The arcana #asks #anon #main 6 #lucio #nadia #portia #muriel #julian #asra #sfw #headcanons #gender neutral reader #long post #hcs

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daydream-hobii · 4 years ago

Text

Flowers & Weeds | Prequel to Roses & Thorns | Chapter 6

Genre: Prequel to Roses & Thorns; Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff & Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Alpaca!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Fox!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Bear!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Bunny!Jungkook

Summary: Before Y/n rehabilitated hybrids, she was just an average rich daughter of a well-known hybrid breeder. She was also someone who didn’t want hybrids in her life, she didn’t like how they had to have an owner when really, they were more human than animals. When the government starts threatening her, she decides to get one to make them start. That’s what changes everything.

Warning: Mentions of Mental & Physical Abuse, Depression, Anxiety, and Suicidal Thoughts; High Suggestions of Smut; Future Mentions of Attempted Suicides; Read with Caution~ <3 This Chapter in Particular has Strong Mentions of Abuse, Parental Abuse, Trauma, Screaming; Please Read with Caution!

Word Count: 1,425

Connected Series: Roses & Thorns

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 6! I hope you like it!! ^_^

A month since Namjoon had joined us, he was a different person entirely. He was so bubbly and sweet, it was intoxicating. There were some things that would still trigger him, but it’s to be expected. Shortly after everyone had left, we began a relationship, and not even a week into it, Taehyung wanted in.

So, here we were, a throuple just taking it day by day. Since Namjoon was such a large purchase, and so risky, my bosses told me I had to go underground for a while. I tried to argue, but they were right, it would’ve been too risky. So, we all just decided to enjoy each other’s presence and learn more about each other.

It was dinner, and we were sitting outside eating. The sun had begun to set, but we all had lanterns on around us so it was dark. I listened to Taehyung and Namjoon joke around, laughing and having a good time.

“You know,” Namjoon said, taking a drink of his water before continuing. “I feel I should tell you about my past, what happened to me.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, concerned. He nodded.

“I want to be an open book with you two,” He responded. “So, I’ll begin at the beginning, I guess…. My first owner wasn’t all that bad, he let me off on a lot of things… but he had passed away…. That’s when it got bad.” He got quiet, as did we. “Each owner seemed to be worse than the last…. The scars are from all of them.”

“Joonie,” I whispered, reaching across and holding his hand.

“One in particular actually liked to use different things… experiment,” Namjoon said, sighing. “I finally ran away, as far as I could…. I ended up here, and got caught. That’s when you found me. I won’t go into detail, it’s too… gruesome.”

“We won’t force you,” I replied with a soft smile.

“No matter how many times I’d give my owners love, they wouldn’t give it to me…” Taehyung whispered, making me look at him and frown. I still didn’t know a lot about his story. “They’d just… use me. Neglect me. Anything to hurt my soul…. It worked. The last owner I had just got bored and tired of me, and I really thought she’d be the last one. She was kind of nice… but I was wrong. She took me to the shelter.” Namjoon grabbed his hand. They both continued to compare their stories, and I felt my heart sink. I looked down at my lap, biting my lip.

“My dad was abusive,” I mumbled, making them stop talking. I looked up to show a small smile at them as they stared. “He… was a hybrid breeder. He’d sell them off, that’s how I have so much money. My mom stopped him a lot, but when she died, he got really mean….” They were silent, so I continued. “It was only when I became older that he decided he didn’t want me to have his money, but it was too late with the account he made. As I grew older, the more I got. I haven’t talked to my dad in years….” We all sat in silence, and I leaned forward, grabbing my drink and lifting it up to them. “We all are broken people.” I took a drink as they nodded, taking drinks of their own.

“That’s why you’re so understanding,” Taehyung whispered, making me nod. “You’ve been through similar situations.”

“I like to think I’m helping people like I helped myself,” I responded. “Honestly, if you would’ve told me five years ago I’d be saving hybrids and dating two incredibly handsome ones, I’d say you were lying.” They smiled at me as I leaned over, pecking their lips. My phone began to ring, and I looked down with a furrowed brow. It was a partner I had here, one that was doing the same thing as me.

“Hello?” I questioned, putting it to my ear. I flinched at some screaming, ones that weren’t his own.

“Y/n, thank god, listen, I messed up,” He said loudly.

“What?” I questioned again, standing up and walking a little further away as Namjoon and Taehyung looked at each other in concern.

“Look, I saved a hybrid because I couldn’t just leave him, but I have too many, and, Jesus, Y/n, he won’t stop screaming! I don’t know what to do,” He said.

“Alright, alright. I’m on my way,” I said, hanging up. I turned back to the two boys who were now standing in front of me. “Sorry, boys, but it seems I’ve got an emergency case.” I began walking to the front as they followed me. I grabbed my keys and put on my shoes.

“Want us to come?” Namjoon asked, protectively. I shook my head, flashing a small smile.

“It’s alright, baby,” I replied, leaning up and kissing his cheek before doing the same to Taehyung. “Go to bed, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” With that, I walked out the door and to my car, getting in and driving off.

When I pulled up to the large house located in the middle of the woods, I saw some hybrids outside, covering their ears with panicked looks on their faces. I got out, running over as they all flinched, looking up at me.

“Is everyone alright?” I asked. They nodded, and I listened to the screams. I ran inside, following the screams to the basement. When I walked in, I saw my partner kneeling down, trying to calm the hybrid down.

I was shocked to see this new hybrid. He was beaten badly, and topless. I saw gashes across his chest, ones that bleed a lot, his entire front red. It looked like he was an Alpaca hybrid and, from his screams, he was traumatized. He covered his ears, cowering in the corner.

“I don’t know what to do, I…” My partner said, standing and looking at me.

“Alright, go upstairs, take care of your hybrids,” I said, pushing him gently towards the door. He looked at me, eyes wide with panic.

“What do you think is wrong?” He asked.

“I think it’s because you’re a human man,” I replied, eyes wide and nerves frazzled from the loud noise. “Now go.” With that, he left. I kept the door open, as to show him I wasn’t closing him off. He continued to scream, not looking at me.

I went a little closer, sitting on the floor. He caught my eyes and his screams abruptly stopped. His eyes were wide, tears rolling down them as he stared. His ears twitched curiously, his body trembling as he stared at me.

“Alright, you’re a bit calmer,” I said in a quiet, gentle voice. “My name is Y/n, are you okay?” The boy stared at me, shaking his head and gulping. “Alright, I’m not here to hurt you…. What’s your name?” Again, he shook his head quickly, making me nod. “Okay, okay, I won’t press you…. Listen, I know you’re scared here, would you like to come home with me?” The boy paused, moving his hands slightly so I saw his entire face. I watched him nod slowly, making me nod my own head.

He stood up, and I carefully went over, watching him flinch and step back. I put my hands up in defense, showing him I was no enemy. He still trembled, but he allowed me to help him keep his head down. I quickly took him upstairs and out, avoiding all hybrids as well as my partner. I put him into the backseat of my car, watching him curl up the furthest away from me.

“Alright, we’ll leave in just a few minutes, I have to talk to my partner really quick, I’ll be right back,” I said. He watched me, nodding his head. I shut the door as quietly as I could, turning around and walking to where my partner stood in his doorway.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I should ask you that,” I replied, flashing a small smile. “What’s his name?”

“Seokjin,” He replied. “I bought him at the slave trade, I didn’t know he’d freak out so much….”

“Email me his files, I’ll send you the money you paid for him,” I said, watching him nod. “I’ll let you know how his progress is. Stay safe.”

“You too,” He replied. I turned around, walking to my car and hopping in before driving away, heading towards my house.

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fluorescentpipedream · 4 years ago

Text

For Ali pt 2

Deacon woke up this morning and took in a slow, deep breath, inhaling the warmth of the sunlight that was pooling into the room. They had finally made it to his “cottage” the night before and had gone straight to bed. There had been soft touches, an hour or so of pure intimate bliss, lying in bed beside Aliviya, trailing his fingers over her body and carefully kissing the bruises and pain away. Getting her here had been a feat but now that he had her here, he was already feeling as though he didn’t want to let her go again. Whenever she went back to the States, Deacon had decided, he was going with her. He didn’t care if he had to uproot his entire life at this point.

Slipping out of the plush bed as quietly as he could he pulled the colorful knitted quilt over Ali and kissed the top of her head gently before patting his leg to get the attention of his massive dogs. Augustus and Brutus raised their heads from their individual beds and paused briefly at the foot of the bed to watch Ali as she lay nestled into the bed. Deacon pulled the bedroom door shut a bit behind Brutus’ tail and walked down the stairs, carefully skipping the creaky last one by stepping beyond it onto the main floor. His cottage was an elegant mini-mansion set in the back of the little village of Bibury, England. It was two hours outside of London’s metropolis and hidden away into what could only be described as a picturesque, fantasy village. You would expect to find faeries in his garden, and honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him either.

Crossing the main foyer of his sitting-room he led the boys to the back of the house and released them into his grand backyard and garden. They bolted out the door and instantly found places to relieve themselves before Brutus playfully tackled his older brother and they tumbled around in the freshly cut grass. The backyard was more exquisite than the front, with an in-ground pool situated directly in the middle, the castle aesthetic extended into the courtyard and made the area feel equal parts open and protected at the same time. High fences on both sides were laced with growing ivy and pockets of wildflowers peeking through as well as bright white and pink rose bushes along the grounds. In the back of the yard, beyond a small stone wall, were large trees, originally planted for privacy though since no one lived behind him for several years it rounded out the look of the yard. He always felt safe when he came home. And after the last few days, safety was what was needed more than anything else. Safe and quiet. Deacon watched the boys tumble around in the yard for another minute before he walked away from the arched wooden door to the back, leaving it open for them when they were ready to come in again and walked across the room and down the hall to the front of his house.

The inside was elaborate, with high ceilings and a combination of natural and synthetic light. There were bookshelves everywhere and a small desk near the front door where he usually deposited his keys, wallet, and any mail he’d gotten when he came home. At the moment, the roll-top was down, shielding his personal belongings behind it. Opening the antiqued wooden door with its metal bracers, much like the one you’d see in medieval English castles in some BBC program, he looked down to see a basket and a small metal rack containing six glass bottles of fresh milk. With a soft smile, he picked up both, pushing the door shut with his foot and walked into the kitchen. Inside the basket as a small egg crate containing 12 farm fresh eggs, a small container of strawberries and ½ of a wheel of cheese, wrapped in brown paper. The cheese he placed in the fridge, setting five of the six bottles of milk in there as well. He left out the eggs and the milk, moving to turn on his kettle and filled it with water. This was part of his routine whenever he was home and for all its simplicity, it was one of his favorite parts of being here. Picking up three of the eggs, he cracked them in a bowl and mixed them around with some cinnamon and sugar, setting the mix aside as he moved to get out a few thick slices of brioche from his bread box. As he started working on breakfast Deacon’s mind was awash with the goings-on that had brought them to this point.

Aliviya had handled meeting his family with a grace he’d not seen in hardly anyone in a very long time. Especially dealing with his aunt Amelia, his mother’s younger sister. She was never a fan of the Moore men, even her own nephews seemed to irritate the woman and she liked to bring up how they were wasting their time with each and every one of the women or even men that they chose to spend their lives with. His mother had told him once that Amelia was jealous she’d never found the kind of true love her sister had and to some degree, Deacon believed her. She was a terrible woman but even without using Mike as a distraction, Ali had been able to deal with the woman with the tact of a hostage negotiator. Watching it had made Deacon fall even further in love with her. It was her handling of one of his former friends, Langston, that had really won him over, however.

Langston and Deacon had been friends since they were old enough to know one another, meeting when they were only children in primary school and continuing their friendship clear into the early years of university. He was still friends with Deacon’s sister, Charlotte, though the relationship with Deacon had soured long ago. Several years back, at some non-essential party, the boys had attended, Deacon had a few too many drinks and Langston, who was a flamboyant gay man that would put Mike to shame with his behavior, had taken what he’d always wanted from Deacon, despite the first man wanting no part of it. He was too drunk to protest and Langston had taken advantage of the situation. The other man had always been determined and aggravated in a way when Deacon had told him that while he was supportive of his lifestyle, he would never love the other man the way that he wanted. “You’re family Langston, I will always love you like a brother.” Apparently, that had been the wrong set of words to describe the man because Langston had lashed out at Deacon and ultimately stole his ability to protest or fight back. When he’d come around again, Niall had been the one to tell him what had happened and a mortified and disgusted Deacon had told his former friend to stay away from him, if he was going to take what was never going to be offered to him because he couldn’t show Deacon the same type of respect he had been given, then there was no way they could continue to be friends.

Deacon hadn’t dealt with Langston for a few years and the time apart had not been kind. He knew that the other man had been dealing with a situation in his family, his father had cut him off and when he’d gotten sick, Langston was expected to put everything he’d ever been and ever wanted to the side and stand beside them, giving them all of his time, effort and love in tumultuous seas surrounding them. For all his extravagance though, he was actually doing quite well being a representative of the Pearce family at events. To some degree, Deacon had been impressed but he had told Ali only the bare minimum about what had happened between the two of them, just to be sure to reiterate that they were -not- friends any longer.

Sometime during the dinner party at the house, Deacon had lost track of Ali and had finally found her sitting with Langston of all people, not just talking but getting him to laugh and actually participate in the conversation. She was leading it slightly but the other man seemed to be genuinely enjoying what they were talking about. He only overheard part of it but it was something about her life and what she liked to do when she was with her friends, how she’d come to be in Deacon’s good graces and how having him love her was the best thing that had ever happened to her. While Niall had later pointed out that Langston was likely looking for anything he could exploit, as he does, it was nice to see his chicken manage to soothe the raging beast Langston could be.

The party had been a grand event, with all manners of people coming and introducing themselves to the Moores and now to Aliviya, since she was going to be part of the family as everyone seemed to see it, she needed to know how these kinds of things go. As they were standing off to the side watching the likes of Christian Marcone and his wife Emma, Killian McLeod, and his fragile wife Camilla, Deacon had tried to explain how this little game works.

“This is a bit like that biopic we watched on Miranda Priestly, we have to acknowledge each of these people by their names as though we not only know them but know a bit about their lives, and they do the same to us out of respect and hope that we will continue to do business with them in the future.”

He motioned to Ajay Patel, who had arrived alone as usual and then did the same to a handful of other people. “We may not work directly with them, most of them are partners of my father or people who we keep close so we can see them betray us from a closer vantage point.” He nodded his head towards Embry Powell as he’d said this. Deacon had told Ali about enough of the situation with Langston that he’d wondered if she was actually doing just as the rest of them were…keep your enemies close. Langston had eventually gotten bored of the conversation and had bowed out, leaving Ali alone for only a few moments before Deacon had swept in to save her from the vultures once more. The days that followed the party, before they were heading out to Greece were spent taking her and Mike around London, showing them the sights and some of his favorite places to go, as well as introducing her to the Moore family stables where they kept some of their prized horses as well as rescued farm and exotic animals including Mabel the Alpaca and a rather ornery cassowary named Dirk.

The stables and surrounding lands were overseen by another friend of the family and almost a brother to the Moore children, a man named David Cotterill. He and his father had been in charge of taking care of the Moore Estate for generations and though David was a highly attractive man and Langston had attempted to sew the seeds of doubt within Deacon by telling him that Ali was probably down at the stables flirting with the muscle man he had enough faith in her and his true friends to know nothing was ever going to come of it.

Deacon frowned as he carefully dipped the buttered brioche into the egg and cinnamon sugar concoction he’d been working on. He had been hopeful that enough time had passed between him and Langston that the other man had grown up. Behind him, he heard the clattering of paws on the hardwood as both of the boys came inside once more and sat down in front of their named bowls. Deacon smiled back at them, telling them he’d get their breakfast in a few moments, they had to wait. A soft whine from Brutus told him the younger was going to be in a protesting kind of mood today, but he ignored the dog and returned to his cooking and his thoughts. As the bread sizzled on the pan, he took the strainers off of both cups, tossing in a splash of fresh milk to both cups before adding in two cubes of sugar to one of them. Breakfast would be done in no time and the tea would be at the perfect temperature as well to drink without having to wait for it to cool too much.

---

The day before the Moores were departing for their private plane to Greece, Lord Moore senior had pulled Aliviya into his office to talk to her. Deacon had asked his grandmother for her family heirloom ring and while she was willing to give it up, Harrison wanted to find out more about the young woman. Deacon had no idea what they had talked about but considering he had heard laughter coming from his father’s office a few times, it must not have been anything too serious. Harrison was a strong man, he put up with very little and was very direct about who and what he wanted for his children and if he liked Ali then it was a good bet that Deacon was going to be permitted to do as he pleased carrying on this relationship. One thing that had caught him a bit off guard was when Roman had come out with one of his father’s special whiskey glasses in a bag, making it, undoubtedly to a lab to be analyzed. Of course, it wouldn’t have been so easy to just accept whatever Ali had told his father about her life before she’d become St. Michael, he would have to test her and find out for himself.

Deacon had wanted to say something about it but there was something in his father’s dismissal about it that had sparked a bit of confusion in him but he’d let it go. If Harrison wanted to tell him, he would but right now there was nothing to really go off of. Deacon didn’t know what that meant and at the time it hadn’t mattered. Now though, he made a mental note to ask his father about it, considering there was something about the whole situation.

Once out in the international waters, guests had started pouring into the massive Burgess Octopus superyacht. This particular model could keep 26 people in 13 luxury, individual rooms, and had two helipads, one of which was reserved for a medical helicopter should one ever need to be called. The yacht had two pools, two very large dining areas one inside the lower deck, and one on the top deck. The rest of the eight decks of this 414ft ship housed anything from jet skies to a private high-speed boat his father often used for fishing, and its own fleet of cars to a glass-bottomed observation deck and its own entertainment center. It was an extravagance most people would balk at but the Moore family had two of them and at any given time they could be either in the waters around Santorini, Greece, or in the Mediterranean waiting until they were needed. The guest list for the event included dignitaries, celebrities, and anyone who may have considered themselves of a higher caliber than others. As he’d given the two the grandest of grand tours, Deacon had to stifle a laugh several times. They weren’t being particularly funny, but it was so different having people who were genuinely surprised by the lavish lifestyle the Moores and their equals lived.

Deacon had taken Ali and Mike out on the jet skies in the first few days of the trip, introducing them to the type of life Ali was going to have just at the tip of her fingertips. He knew she wouldn’t need to have it but sometimes it was nice to disappear into the lap of luxury for a while. Deacon had taken Ali onto the mainland one night for a particularly romantic date set up to look exactly like a picture she had shown him once of her mother’s favorite place.

“I wanted to give you the chance to see the world as I do, so long as you’re in my life, Chicken, I’m never bored, never alone, and never unhappy. I love you, more than there are words to tell you, and more than there are hours in the day to try to show you.”

Deacon had proposed to her there on the beach of Santorini, down on one knee, alone and away from everyone else and everything. He’d been planning this for some time, and while Ali had told him once that she wasn’t ready the look on her face had said it all.

“Oh, Deacon…I told you, as long as it’s an appropriate time, I’m always going to be yours. But…”

“No chicken, no buts. We’ll make it work. I want you in my life, every hour of every day for the rest of my days.”

The tears that had come to her eyes had made his heart swell and as he’d put the Cartier diamond on her finger, he felt like his entire life now laid out before him and he was the luckiest man in the world. He had been, as they had spent the night together overlooking the port in Santorini, the windows open, a warm breeze blowing in and making the curtains around the bed dance to their own beat. They had lain together, a tangle of arms and sheets together, forgetting there was anyone else alive in the world as the glow of the city took over the dimming light in their room. For that moment, they were the only thing that mattered.

Harrison and Francesca’s anniversary was two days ago though it felt like it was a lifetime ago. No one throws a party quite like the Moore’s and especially not Francesca. Because of her fashion career she has gotten to rub elbows with the best and brightest in film, music and everyone in between so the guest list had included everyone who had been at the estate party a few days prior as well as Hollywood’s elite actors and actresses, dignitaries from as many countries that could attend and in the middle of it all, Deacon, Aliviya and Mike.

Deacon had done his best to prepare his chicken for the insanity that the party was going to be, loud music and a lot of conversations and bodies everywhere, and probably some people that would have her on her toes. “Nana will be here, of course, she’s never missed one of mum’s parties” Deacon had said over breakfast.

“Nana?”

“Well...she’s no one here’s actual grandmother..” Ben began as he sat down beside Ali, his eyes falling on the ring before he overlooked it. If they weren’t going to say anything, neither was he. “But it’s easier than saying Her Majesty every time. When we were little she had insisted”

“Did you say, her majesty?” Mike balked, looking down at the eggs he was served and nodded to the waiter. “As in, the Queen?”

“Of course, who did you think I meant?”

Deacon pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing to go down some of the guests with them. “The good thing is, it’s unlikely you’ll meet everyone, considering how many are actually going to be here tonight, that would be impossible!”

“Watch me. I want to meet Kris Jenner, that woman is a legend” Mike quipped and everyone at the table laughed. As the morning had gone on, however, Ali had started feeling under the weather.

Deacon had spent much of the day in the secondary private deck with her but after the second time she had thrown up and she was complaining of an itch in the back of her throat he had called the ship’s doctor to take a look at her. Somehow, she had gotten something fishy in her breakfast which was causing her to have an allergic reaction. No one really knew how it happened, it must have been a mistake but the type of oil wasn’t even anything in the kitchens. While Ali was relaxing in their room, Deacon had gone topside and was watching as the chefs and staff were arriving for the party. Most everyone was coming from the mainland through some kind of mode of transportation, there were a lot of pickups and drop-offs happening on the far end of the ship where generally no one was going to be. Every year, the Moores hired a musician and live band to perform at their celebration and this year was no different, except this year the entertainment was one of the youngest performers to earn a Billboard Music Award. Her name was Tiana, her music had a haunting tone to it but her vocal range was amazing, especially for her only being 17. Deacon nodded his head to her and the rest of the band as they disembarked and began getting their equipment off the boat that had brought them.

As the new chefs were brought onboard for the party and everyone was caught up in the special diets, allergies and otherwise, Deacon had been watching over them all hoping that whatever had happened earlier wouldn’t be risked a second time. The hired chef this year was Nikolai Wolfe, a Michelin Star rated chef that usually worked out of France or Norway but also had a restaurant in Las Vegas and was soon to be opening one in New York. Deacon was looking forward to his dinner, it was going to be heavenly. He hoped.

Mike was down in the room with Ali keeping her company and trying to take her mind off of what had happened but all he could really come up with to talk about was how her breakfast had been veritably poisoned.

“I don’t want to be that guy right now but, my money is on Langston.”

“Why woulb you say thabt?”

“He doesn’t like you and Niall was telling me that nice guy act is just his way of getting what he wants. Of course I can’t really go accuse him in front of everyone but...”

“I can’t belieb I have to miss the parby!” Ali’s puffy eyes welled up and Mike pulled her into his arms, rocking her softly.

“You won’t, I’ve seen your recover from worse. Remember the Halloween party we went to?” That got a pained laugh and he snuggled up to her tightly, playing with her hair until she fell asleep. He managed to wiggle out of the bed with her and left enough room for Deacon to replace him. A few hours passed before Deacon was sitting up again looking back at her as he fumbled with his tie.

Leaning down over the bed, he kissed Ali softly, using one knee to steady himself on the bed. She was looking better but still seemed too uncomfortable to do much else but lay in the bed. He was upset, but not necessarily at her. This wasn’t her fault, she wanted nothing more than to be up there with him, wearing the dress his mother had given to her and hobnobbing with the rest of the guests. Sighing, Deacon had say back on his knees and looked at her.

“Are you sure you want me to go up without you chicken?”

“No...but you need to be out there with your family instead of down here with me. I might start feeling better soon and I want you out there to show me around to everyone.”

Deacon kissed her again, nuzzling her softly before he left their cabin and joined everyone on the main deck. Finding his way to his parents through the throngs of people he apologized for not being around but inwardly he really would have rather been downstairs, not dressed up like this and enjoying the quiet.

“How’s Aliviya?”

“A little better, the redness is going down finally, she said she was going to try to come up in a little bit, hopefully before the real festivities begin.” Deacon let out a sigh and Harrison smiled softly, moving over to him and gripped into his shoulder with a firm but comforting grip.

“You’re the same way I am whenever your mother is sick, so let this hopeless romantic give you some advice, hovering only makes the missing her worse. Aliviya is a strong headed woman with a big heart, she doesn’t want her own situation to overshadow our day, and I respect that from her. If she can make it, she will and I honestly believe she will do anything she can to make it” Deacon smiled and hugged his father, allowing himself to relax, especially when he saw how everyone else was enjoying themselves. Mike had been surprised by his...well considering how close they were dancing at the moment Deacon doubted Travis was the ex any longer, and Colin was snuggled up close to Rachel as the music shifted to a slow dance.

Deacon drifted from one foot to the other, changing partners a couple of times between Kim Kardashian to his niece Tess and eventually to a beautiful blond woman he felt like he recognized but he couldn’t quite place. She was striking with a shoulder length bob haircut and bright green eyes. Her dress was Valentino from what he could tell and she moved with a grace one would expect from a dancer. Her name was Roxanne, she was a friend of...someone, Deacon hadn’t really heard, and with so many people on the ship tonight, it really wouldn’t matter.

After dancing for a few songs and mingling with some of the people he would consider acquaintances rather than friends, Deacon had been almost elated when Colin had appeared at his side and told him that Ali was on the top deck and looking for him.

“I worked some magic, Ali’s up above” Colin had stretched the word a bit as he’d noticed the other woman who had her hand on Deacon’s shoulder but disregarded her entirely when Deacon had thanked her for the dances and went to find his love. Ali was standing on the veranda above the party looking stunning in an ombré pink to deep purple spaghetti dress and her hair pinned up in a bun with small butterfly pins wound up in it. For a moment, all he could do was look up at her in awe before ascending the short stairs to the side of her and scooped her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

“Chicken, you look amazing.” His mother had made the dress especially for her to wear tonight and though it had looked nice on the hanger, seeing it on her now, beneath the soft lights of the ship’s decorations and the moon above, if he hadn’t known better he would have thought her an angel in that moment.

“Feel like mingling?”

“I think I can do that...” Deacon wrapped her arm around his and led her down into the fray, introducing her to a few handfuls of guests, the most important being Christian and Emma Marcone and his “nana”, the Queen herself. Giddy as she ever was at these things, the Queen had spent a good few minutes examining Ali, her dress, earrings and her choice of “sensible shoes” before letting them go but extending an invitation for them to cone to tea. As she disappeared into the crowd, her like green hat bobbing through the masses, Deacon barked out a laugh.

“Well...what do you think?”

“I just met the Queen of England. I...me, no one...I just. Wow! I love her!”

“She likes you, which is truly something, if I’m honest...”

Deacon smiled and showed Ali off to a couple more people before they found themselves off to the side of the ship, in one of the quieter areas; they were few and far between but there was enough privacy for the two of them to breathe without a million people around them. With a few minutes alone with her, Deacon leaned into her, kissing her neck under her ear and ran his hands over her hips, pulling her into his arms.

“I love you, and I’m glad you felt like you were able to come out finally.”

“Me too. I might not last much longer though, starting to wear out.”

“It’s just about time for the cake and fireworks, why don’t I go find us something to nibble on until then?” He leaned in and kissed her deeply, feeling his heart swell as he did so. Walking away, he hadn’t even noticed Roxanne off to the side. Once Deacon was gone, she came out and looked over Ali, almost as though she was trying to study her before coming out to talk to her. Or else she was playing her lines, that was half the fun.

“You look exhausted, are you alright?”

“Hmm...oh. Hello. Yes, I’m alright. Who are you?”

Extending her hand, Roxanne smiled brightly, still trying to keep this up for as long as she could though her patience was running thin with this little game. When Ali had taken her hand, she’d seen the ring and for a moment, forgot herself. “.....Roxanne.” She trailed off before catching hold of her thoughts again. “Lord Moore is a very big catch, how in the world did you manage to convince him into marrying you?”

“....I didn’t catch him. And I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“Well. I’m just trying to figure out what he would see in someone like you. You really have no place here, haven’t you figured that out by now?” Ali looked taken aback for a moment and tried to excuse herself from the conversation, she was upset, obviously but to have someone call her out on her relationship with Deacon, again...

For their part, Roxie could only smile at her, and it wasn’t the most comforting of smiles. Stepping back from her, Roxie reached up and pulled off the wig, looking down at Ali and dropped the fake accent to her voice too. “I had really hoped you would have just stayed in your little room so no one would have to deal with you but it seems you just can’t take a hint.”

“Langston. It’s you that can’t take a hint. Deacon isn’t interested in you, and the way you keep trying to insinuate yourself into his life, making him think you’re some beautiful woman...forcing yourself on him....You don’t want what’s best for him, you just want to control him.”

Langston snarled at her and stepped closer to her, closing the gap between them. Putting his hands on either side of Ali and boxing her in he looked down at her. “I love him. I have always loved him, and who the hell do you think you are? You came from nothing, you’re no more than something shiny he’s playing with...you’re just going to end up taking him for all his money and leaving him miserable.”

“You really are crazy, aren’t you?” Ali had flinched, Langston knew he was bigger than she was and the ring had only made him see red. He knew, in his heart that Deacon would never love him but it felt like every man he’d deemed worthy enough for his attention would rather fuck each other than dare to touch him. With everything swimming around in his mind, seeing the Cartier ring on Ali’s finger only drove the proof further home than he was prepared to deal with emotionally. He wanted to be happy for Deacon but all he wanted to do was erase this hideous little spot from his side.

Deacon still wasn’t entirely sure how the next part had played out. He had been walking down the stairs with a few small plates of snacks for him and Ali to share when he had seen Langston strike her across the jaw and in doing so he knocked her off of the ship. She had been trying to scoot away from him and wound up with her back to a small opening in the ship, near one of the emergency exits. Ali had lost her balance but before she’d fallen over, she grabbed hold of Langston and pulled him over the side of the ship with him. Deacon had dropped the plates he was holding and run to the side, hitting a button on the panel closest to him which served as an emergency alert signal. The ship was already stationary, at the very least but that was still an impossible fall to have survived and with it being near twilight he could hardly see anything.

Roman and a small security team were the first ones to him, after that it was a small handful of people, his mother and father, brother and of course, Mike. Deacon had been poised to jump in after her when he saw Christian Marcone take off his coat, rolex and step out of his shoes before diving over the side, trying to search for Ali in cold water. Deacon was beside himself, and watched as a few others went over as well. Harrison took hold of his son and told him to head below deck to the very lowest level, they’d be able to get Ali back in the boat from there. It felt like slow motion as it had happened but everything had actually gone quite quick.

When Deacon had reached the lowest level where the loading areas were he saw Marcone and Callahan dragging two bodies back. Panicked, Deacon had taken hold of Aliviya’s arm, helping them get her back onto the ship. Mike was being held back by Travis as Evan performed CPR on her and only stopped when she coughed up water. Harrison had moved to do the same to Langston, who looked a bit ridiculous now in a drenched dress, no heels and makeup smeared across his face. In his anger, Deacon had charged the other man to kill him, potentially but he was stopped by his brother who turned him around to see Ali start to breathe on her own. The whole of the party seemed to be watching this drama unfold but none of it mattered, so long as she was breathing. Harrison had been the one to lay a blanket over Ali as the EMTs that were on staff began to strap her to a board to be air lifted back to the mainland. Deacon had only given Langston one final, over the shoulder look before he followed the men up to the helipad and told Mike to go with her, he would meet her there.

Six hours in a hospital in Santorini while she was checked out for broken bones, luckily she had none, whiplash, which she did have, and hypothermia. Deacon had been sitting beside her, holding her hand as she was wrapped up in several blankets. In all of her fear and sadness, when Ali had come around she had still apologized for ruining the party. All he could do was snort, it wasn’t her fault but she was unconscious again before he’d been able to say anything. When things had managed to calm down and Ali was sleeping more peacefully, Deacon had a chance to sit with her. He was taking her out of the hospital as soon as she could be moved and would be recovering with him, alone in his own private home. He felt guilty for not seeing that the ‘woman’ he’d been talking to, he’d been trying to keep from getting too handsy had been Langston the entire time.

For his part, Langston was gone. No one was certain where he had gone but he’d been in the hospital for a few hours himself and when someone had gone to find him, he was just...gone. Deacon’s anger for him was so great he hadn’t even cared. Hell there was part of him that would have wanted the man shot where he stood, but while that was the way of the Marcones, that wasn’t how a Moore dealt with their problems. As soon as she could be moved, Deacon and Ali were gone too. Harrison promised to deal with this situation and their PR people were trying to control the insanity that was taking place on social media around the whole thing.

Deacon carefully took the stairs back up to the master bedroom with a tray in his hands. He had sliced the fresh strawberries and topped the homemade French Toast with them and a light dusting of sugar. As he came into the room, he set the tray down delicately, so as not to spill any of the tea and sat down on the bed, running his hand through Ali’s hair. She was going to survive, of course, her body was bruised and looked as though she had fallen through a solid piece of glass rather than the ocean, it was amazing that she had survived the fall honestly, but she was hard to get rid of. No matter how badly some people wanted her gone, it would seem. He couldn’t make sense of Langston’s hatred of her, she was the woman he loved more than life itself, why wasn’t that good enough?

Leaning over her, Deacon softly kissed her forehead, and then both of her cheeks, her nose and finally her lips. It was a soft tease at first before he deepened it when he’d taken her mouth finally. “Chicken? Can you wake up for me, love?” Ali’s eyes fluttered awake and Deacon smiled at her as he settled against the pillows behind him.

“I made breakfast.”

@musesnotebook

#Richard Armitage #character

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etherealwaifgoddess · 5 years ago

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More Time - Chpt.13

Summary: Bucky, Emma, and Steve have a night at the guy’s apartment where Emma learns a little bit more about Bucky. Master list can be found HERE.

Warnings / Content: A moment of slight angst featuring a sweet slightly insecure Bucky.

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! As promised, a new day and a new chapter! I don’t if anyone saw, I have a new stand alone fic I posted earlier (Love, In Any Form). I wanted to get that out there despite having this series going. It’s night and day different from this, but if anyone needs some nonbinary!Bucky in their life, check it out! I’m going to be popping up a one shot related to this fic in a little while too. Three new posts in one day... ya’ll are gonna get spoiled ;) The one shot is going to dive into the origin of Bucky’s rainbow pants and I think ya’ll will enjoy the little head cannon as much as I do. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Thirteen

It was ten days before their schedules synced up again and the guys made good on their promise of pizza and Netflix. They had both visited Emma at work since Bucky’s birthday but it was a poor excuse for quality time and they were all anxious to see each other outside of the bar again. Emma brought along her bottle of Two Buck Chuck, mostly as a joke but also so as not to show up empty handed. Bucky answered the door dressed in a pair of low hanging grey sweatpants that made Emma’s mouth go dry. He was still towel drying his hair and hadn’t gotten around to putting on a shirt yet.

“Sorry, I was running late.” Bucky told her, moving aside so she could come in. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and the woodsy, slight spicy scent of him made her toes want to curl. “I’ll be right back.” he assured her before going back to the bathroom to finish drying off.

Steve called out a hello from the kitchen where he was getting out plates and Emma headed over to him. He was in blue sweatpants and a baggy white tee shirt she suspected he had stolen from Bucky. Everything about him screamed soft, and comfortable, and home. Emma greeted him with a lingering kiss, finding it easier to be a little bold with him. She helped him gather up everything and take it out to the living room while Bucky finished up. He joined them just as she was setting the second box of pizza on the coffee table.

“Thank you, god, for leggings.” Bucky whistled from the doorway.

Emma snapped upright and pulled down the hem of her shirt, realizing he must have had quite a view of her backside. “Be nice, dirty old man.” she teased.

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.” Bucky nodded. He’d put on a black a-line tank and his hair damp hair fell around his shoulders. Emma thought it was unfair how attractive he looked standing there leering at her. The man was walking talking sex appeal and he damn well knew it.

“I was just wearing what I would at home. That’s what you said tonight was for. Lazy day clothes, movies, and pizza.”

“And it is. Your lazy day clothes just happen to be what dreams are made of.”

Emma huffed, unable to come up with a witty response. She didn’t have to though as Steve joined them with the opened bottle of wine. “If it makes you feel any better, Bucky is cheating.” he informed her.

“Am not” Bucky sputtered at the same time Emma asked “What do you mean?”

Steve’s smile was cheshire. “Those are not Bucky’s around the house clothes. Those are his gym clothes.”

“Steve…” Bucky’s voice was a low warning sound.

“And what does the illustrious James Buchanan Barnes wear around the house?” Emma had a feeling this game was going to get good.

“Steve, no.” Bucky growled.

Steve tried to slyly motion to the bedroom room door and Emma caught his intention. “Alpaca pants!” Steve cried and bolted to the bedroom with Emma quick on his heels giggling. “What the heck are alpaca pants?!” she asked between giggles.

Bucky was diving after them and caught Emma around the waist barely inside the bedroom door. Steve was already rooting through a dresser drawer when Bucky tossed Emma onto the bed and went after him. He held up the pajama pants in question and threw them to Emma before being tackled by Bucky who tickled him mercilessly on the floor.

“Oh my god, what even are these?” Emma howled as she looked at the fleecy materials print.

Bucky left Steve panting on the floor to pounce on the bed and wrestle the pants from Emma.

“I hate you both.” he grumbled petulantly, holding the pants close to his chest protectively. Emma noticed his eyes were actually wary as he clung to the pants, his cheeks pink from more than just exertion.

Steve joined them on the bed, still flushed from being tickled. “Oh come on, Buck. She’d have seen them eventually.”

Emma gave Bucky shrug, “They’re actually pretty fantastic.” she admitted.

“I know they’re… colorful.” Bucky agreed, his tone still hesitant.

“Why wouldn’t you wear these tonight?” Emma asked, “They seem so cozy.”

“I don’t know. They’re kinda private. I love my ‘paca pants but... they’re a little feminine... and over the top.”

“Bucky, hey, no.” Emma moved so she was right up against him, both of them laying on their sides. She wasn’t used to seeing this shy side of him. “I don’t care what you wear. You could have on a leather jacket or a My Little Pony sweater, you’re still you.”

Bucky nodded, knowing she was right but still unsure. He tested the waters a little more, “I have rainbow pants too. And a matching fluffy robe.”

“They sound cute too.” she assured him.

“I know it’s silly but those kinds of things remind me I’m safe, ya know?” Emma nodded encouragingly and Bucky took a breath and continued, “When I got away, it was hard sometimes to remember where I was. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and it was… yeah. It wasn’t great. There was this fuzzy kids blanket that someone left in the apartment I rented and it was so cold that I started sleeping with it. After that I didn’t have trouble waking up at night, I could feel the blanket on me and I knew I was safe. No way HYDRA would ever give me something so nice and soft.” Bucky paused to look at Emma and the understanding in her eyes made him push on. “I’m better about that now, but I still like having things like that around. Shuri gave me the rainbow pants when I was living in Wakanda and it just became a thing. Steve’s gotten me a few things and I have a pretty nice collection now.” Bucky let out a heavy breath. He hated sharing things that he struggled with but he cared for Emma and wanted to start trusting her with more pieces of himself.

Emma gave him a small smile and a kiss. “You’re allowed to like having nice things. It doesn’t make me think any less of you. But I will take a little offense if you don’t think you can be yourself around me. This is supposed to be a relationship, right?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, it is.”

“Then you gotta trust me. I’m not just here for a hot threesome, I really like you guys.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “We like you too, doll. It’s just going to take a little time.”

“Everyone has baggage, Buck.”

“We have a cargo plane full of baggage at this point.”

“Oh come on,” Steve protested, “It’s not that bad. I mean you have an ex brainwashed assassin, who’s only missing one limb, and is down to screaming in his sleep once every few months now. And a retired American icon who shrank and got a little chubby, lived two full lifetimes already, and has a list of medical issues a mile long.”

“Well when you say it like that…” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically. Leave it to Steve and his oversharing tendencies.

“I think I’ll keep you.” Emma laughed, “Both of you.” She stretched so she could drag Steve closer to them and rolled on to her back so she was lying with them on either side of her.

“I don’t know what we did to deserve you, doll.” Bucky said with adoration in his eyes.

“I don’t know either, but you better keep doing it ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve draped himself halfway over Emma, snuggling into her warmth and reaching out to Bucky to hold onto him as well. They lay for a minute, basking in the warm, tender moment, before Bucky hopped up and dropped his sweatpants to the floor with one quick motion. Steve and Emma both made surprised sounds but he waved them off, “I might as well get comfy.” he told them pulling on his pajama pants.

Emma pulled herself up and hugged him tightly, “They look perfect.”

Steve got up too then, kissing Bucky lightly as he passed by. “Come on, you two. Pizza’s getting cold.”

Bucky smiled gratefully at Emma and they followed Steve, hands linked together.

Bucky got the middle seat while Steve brought up the movie they’d queued earlier and Emma flopped large pizza slices on plates for everyone. His nerves were still a little raw from all the sharing and both Steve and Emma seemed to pick up on him needing a little more affection than usual. They made their way through a pizza and a half while the movie played, a SciFi drama with just a little romance thrown in. It was engrossing and they were all a little surprised when it ended and they realized how entangled they had become during the movie. Bucky had sprawled out in his seat, his back leaning on Emma’s chest, one of her arms wrapped around his middle being hugged by his arm, and her other hand playing idly in his hair. His feet were tucked in on Steve’s lap and Steve had been rubbing them lightly, stroking up along his calves too. Steve’s feet were tucked under Bucky’s thighs for warmth despite the blanket on his lap.

“I never want to move.” Emma groaned as Steve turned off the movie which was just scrolling credits at that point.

“I don’t think. I can move at this point.” Bucky said hugging Emma’s arm just a little tighter.

Steve yawned and stretched as much as he could without disrupting Bucky’s feet, “It’s late.”

Emma looked over at him in disbelief, “It’s barely after ten.”

“I know,” Steve half shrugged, “But we both have work in the morning.”

“Ah yes, you who keep to relatively normal work hours. I get to sleep in as much as I want to.”

“Braggart.” Bucky teased, and then more seriously, “Don’t leave, doll. Stay the night?”

Emma looked down at Bucky’s face, searching his expression, “What are you asking me, Bucky?”

“We don’t have to do anything but sleep, but we’re all tired and the bed is big enough to share.”

“Tempting, so tempting. But I don’t have anything with me and I don’t want to be in the way tomorrow while you’re both trying to get to work. I definitely can’t sleep with my contact lenses in either.”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s foot and gave him a look, he was disappointed too but it was just bad timing, not a rejection of them. “It’s okay, another night maybe?” Steve tried.

Emma nodded emphatically, “Yes, definitely. Maybe on a day that none of us have work in the morning. We can sleep in and get breakfast at the diner over on 5th.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Bucky told her with a slow grin.

“I’ll look at the calendar tomorrow and figure it out.” Steve agreed.

“Kiss for the road?” Emma asked, looking from one to the other.

Bucky turned over so he was hovering above her and leaned down for a long, reverent kiss. Emma couldn't even breathe as his tongue danced along the seam of her lips, asking tenderly for permission. She opened her lips for him and shuddered when his tongue darted in. His hand stayed in PG-rated territory but the firm caresses of her shoulders and the back of her neck made it clear he was struggling to keep things from progressing further. Bucky was lost, barely reigning himself in after he got a taste of her mouth; all wine-sweet and perfectly her. Steve had moved so he could watch, rubbing a hand in small circles on Bucky’s lower back. It was with great reluctance that Bucky finally pulled back, “I’ll miss you.” He murmured against her mouth before moving away.

Steve didn’t have to be told to slide over as Bucky moved away. He was painfully hard from watching Bucky and Emma kiss but he knew it wasn’t the time for that. He would take his goodbye kisses and be more than happy enough with them. Emma practically melted against Steve as his lips brushed across hers. Where Bucky was bright flame, Steve was glowing embers; patient and steady. Emma let him lead, enjoying the careful way his fingers combed through her hair. A soft sigh escaped her lips when he trailed a few feather light kisses along her neck. They were so soft but they absolutely ignited her body. Steve moved away and pulled himself up, extending a hand to help her up too. “You gotta get going before we start something we can’t finish.” He told her.

“Well, you and I can’t finish. But you two could.” Emma motioned between the guys.

“Uh, yeah… I mean we could but…” Steve stuttered, flustered.

Emma chuckled, “It’s okay, Steve. I know you two weren’t living like monks before you met me. I adore the way you guys are together and I wouldn’t dream of infringing on that. We’re all a little worked up; I don’t expect you two to go without a little fun once I leave.”

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Bucky cooed, wrapping his arms around her. “We just don’t want you feeling left out.”

“I’m far from it. And I don’t feel left out, I’m coming in new here and that’s okay.”

Emma was traded between her guys for a few more goodnight kisses until she was finally able to get her coat and head home.

Bucky shut the door behind her and looked at Steve, his love-struck expression mirrored on Steve’s face. “We are in so deep here, Stevie.”

Steve let Bucky envelop him in his arms, his head resting right under Bucky’s chin as he hugged him close. “We are.” He agreed, “But, god, we are lucky.”

“You feelin’ lucky, punk?” Bucky asked, quoting loosely from a movie Sam had made him watch.

Steve laughed lightly, “Yeah, jerk, I think I am.”

Bucky grinned before dropping down to wrap his arms around the back of Steve’s thighs, picking him up with ease and carrying him off to show him just how lucky he was feeling.

The one shot is up now! The Origin of the Rainbow Pants

Tag list lovelies: @godofplumsandthunder @remilupin22 @supraveng @hiddles-rose

If anyone wants added or removed please lmk!

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jojosfluffyadventure · 5 years ago

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Can we get some kars with s/o fluff, please? Would he be the cuddly type? (I hope so :))))) )

Kars fluff with s/o:

- Kars may not be a cuddler perse at first, but he will allow you to snuggle up to him. You’re special, you see, so you’re allowed the physical closeness others aren’t.

- However after a while, he finds it much more pleasant when he puts his arms around you, holding you close.

- If he’s become the Ultimate Being, he likes to surround you with his wings.

- Kars’ hair is remarkably soft, like alpaca wool. It feels amazing to run your fingers through and bury your face in, and he admittedly enjoys it when you do. He likes to teach you different intricate plaits so you can make them with his hair.

- He likes to recount to you stories of eras gone by, telling you in detail the things he witnessed over the many years he was alive before he went into stone hibernation.

- He’ll often bring you lavish clothes to wear. No matter what he brings home, he always seems to know exactly what will look best on you, what fabric feels good on your skin, and what fit is best.

- He thinks more highly of you than he does other humans. What other human, after all, could capture not only his attention, but his affections like you have?

- Once he’s grown more affectionate with you, he loves to kiss you everywhere. Face, hands, shoulders, wherever happens to be most closely available to be kissed, he will kiss there.

Kars likes to indulge himself in the sound of your heartbeat when he needs to rest. He’ll lay quietly with his ear on your chest, and fall asleep to the rhythmic thrum of your heart.

- Nobody is allowed to flirt with you when you go out together. If he notices you being hit on, he’s quick to scare them off. You are only his s/o.

- While he isn’t one for human tradition, he will eventually have rings made for the two of you, perhaps by Esidisi, for you to wear, symbolising your promise to stay together.

#Kars #jjba #headcanons #Battle Tendency #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Cars #?#anon

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lavenderlattaes · 5 years ago

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smitten. | min yoongi

⇒ summary: Min Yoongi had been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and he loves spoiling you rotten. Yoongi loves you more than he probably loves his Audi but you’re not so sure about that, yet. Until your friends start pointing it out to the two of you.

⇒ [college! au, rich kid! au, friends to lovers! au]

⇒ pairing: min yoongi x reader

⇒ word count: 12.9k words

⇒ genre: tooth-aching fluff, I suppose and,,, would u consider this slowburn

⇒ warnings: curse words, 12k words of word vomit lmao, and it’s too sweet for diabetic peeps sksk

⇒ note: hello, tumblr. It’s been a while, lmao. This fic wasn’t supposed to be this long, it was supposed to be a drabble idk what happened. ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy! ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

You push the car door open, and your beaten-up white Converse hits the gravel as you get out of the car. You close the car door shut behind you, slinging your backpack on your shoulders as you squint up at the massive school buildings standing gloriously underneath the early summer sun. You hear the trunk open and the sound of suitcases hitting the ground snaps you from your daze. You turn around and see your best friend Yoongi unloading your suitcases.

“Oh, sorry!” You apologize, running over to him as you help him unload your suitcases. Yoongi takes his largest suitcase out last, slamming the trunk of his Audi shut, wiping the sweat trickling down his forehead with his forearm. You sigh and pull out your hanky from your pocket as you cup his cheek and wipe the sweat.

“You know that there’s things called towels and handkerchiefs, right? You should know that, you can probably buy an entire department store of it,” you tell him as you finish wiping his face and proceed to fixing his hair.

Yoongi just chuckles as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. You just smile as you finish fixing his hair. If it were some other person, Yoongi wouldn’t have let them touch his hair, but you were Y/L/N Y/N, his best friend, and he loves you a whole fucking lot.

Yoongi takes two of his suitcases in his right hand and holds your hand in his left. You take your suitcases in your left too, and he leads you to the main building where you’ll be getting your dorm keys.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi leans toward you slightly, noticing your clammy hand as you approach the building and pass by a lot of students. Your shyness tends to resurface in the presence of a lot of people and you were thankful that your best friend was calm, collected, and cool to help you get through it all, ever since you were in high school.

Just as you reach the steps, you hear the familiar loud voices of your other three friends behind you.

“I’m telling you, Hobi, she was looking at ME! I mean, who wouldn’t? I’m obviously the ten out of the three of us here, you and Joon are eights,” the windshield wiper laugh of Kim Seokjin soon follows after his statement, and you and Yoongi turn around to see your friends, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, and his cousin Kim Namjoon, carrying their own things. Hoseok and Seokjin were both in a very intense conversation about a girl who, according to Seokjin, had the hots for him, despite Hoseok insisting that she was only looking at him because of the amount of pink in his arms. Namjoon, who was shaking his head at his cousin and his other slightly naïve friend, spots you and Yoongi first.

“Hey, Y/N and Yoongi are already here!” He slaps the broad-shouldered guy besides him, who stops talking Hoseok’s ear off before he quickens his pace to greet the two of you. Seokjin and Hoseok follow right behind him. Yoongi lets go of your hand so he can do their handshake, and the boys give you hugs.

“I didn’t think we’d all arrive at around the same time, Seokjin was taking forever,” Hoseok brings up and the boy beside him whips his head to cry out a complaint.

“YAH! I forgot to bring RJ, he was relaxing on my bed and didn’t call out to me, I was starting to think he really didn’t want to come with,” Seokjin hoists the huge, alpaca stuffed toy up higher.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at them. “Whatever. Let’s just go inside and get our keys and room assignments.” The boys nod and Yoongi takes your hand again, leading the way inside.

You twist the doorknob, and take a peek inside the plain, white room that will ultimately be your new home for the next four years. You step inside fully, pulling your suitcase along behind you. You bring it over to the side and Yoongi follows right behind you, carrying a few of your other things.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get a roommate, won’t you be scared of sleeping in a room alone?” Yoongi speaks up, his eyes roaming around the room. You sit down on the bed opposite the one you’ve chosen to sleep on as Yoongi closes the door behind him. Your friends were all busy unpacking and while you told Yoongi to do the same too, he insisted on accompanying you to your room, saying he “wanted to make sure my best friend felt comfy in her new room”.

You laugh. “Yoongi, I sleep alone at home, remember?” You pull your legs up, folding them underneath you. Yoongi gives you a look. “You know what I mean. College life is stressful and scary, Y/N. Are you ready to face all of that alone?” Yoongi stresses out, making you snort.

“I’m having my classes in lecture halls, Yoongi. Not my dorm room. Besides, Joon and I share most of the same classes together, so I’m not completely alone. Plus, you talk as if I won’t see you and the others everyday.” You point out, and Yoongi nods and shrugs, getting your point.

He stands up and walks over to sit beside you. You twist your body to look at him and he looks at you, sighing, as he pulls your head in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You smile softly at his gentle action, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Promise me you won’t die before the end of the first semester,” Yoongi whispers and you laugh, punching his stomach lightly. “Tell that to yourself, Min.”

Yoongi starts playing some of his songs while he helps you unpack. You talk occasionally but focus on getting the work done first so you can hang out with the other boys.

Min Yoongi had been your best friend from pretty much the moment you were conceived. Your parents – both moms and dads – were college buddies. They were the literal definition of friendship goals. Yoongi was a year older than you, but ever since you were both born, your parents always made the two of you bond together. Yoongi’s older brother hung out with your older brother, but they weren’t as close as you and Yoongi. When you were born, of course Yoongi’s family came to visit you and your mom at the hospital. Yoongi was barely two years old, but the moment his eyes fell on you, he fell in love. You were adorable and Yoongi already wanted someone to protect at such a young age. Yoongi was smitten for you the moment you were born. So, when you were a few months older, your parents organized play dates for the two of you already. Most of the time, you hung out at Yoongi’s place. His house was larger than yours by about two floors, so you had more playing space.

Yoongi was absolutely smitten for you – whatever it was that you wanted, for as long as you both could remember, Yoongi would hand it to you on a silver platter. You remember when you were both around six years old - you wanted to have his stuffed toy poodle, and even though it was Yoongi’s favorite stuffed toy, he didn’t hesitate to give it to you. No matter though, because years later, Yoongi bought an actual toy poodle that he named Holly.

Growing up, you were the loud, outgoing one, while Yoongi was on the quieter side. It wasn’t until high school when you became good friends with Hoseok, Seokjin, and his cousin Namjoon that Yoongi started breaking out of his shell. Hoseok and Seokjin were especially loud and they always made Yoongi laugh. Namjoon was loud too, but because the boy had a thing for destroying things in his path, he chose to be quieter so he wouldn’t attract too much attention from being so loud and breaking everything along the way. It was also in high school when you started to get shy – you were faced with the reality that you were a teenager already and that soon enough, you’d have to face the world without Yoongi by your side. Everything was starting to overwhelm you, so you turned to writing pieces of literary work. You thought back then that you’d end up alone, but you found yourself hitting it off really well with Namjoon, comparing famous literary works, writing your own pieces, and asking for constructive criticism from one another.

Your fun, lovable group of five stayed together all of high school, and now up until college. You were all so excited and happy to get accepted into the same art university, a three hour drive away from home. You’re taking up creative writing with Namjoon, Hoseok will take up dance, Seokjin with theatre, and Yoongi with music, majoring in piano.

In the middle of a Halsey song, Yoongi breaks your line of thought (which was just you singing along to Roman Holiday, anyway).

“Hey, do you wanna go get some food with the guys? They’re downstairs.” You fix your ponytail and nod, smiling.

“Sure, I’m starving anyway.” Yoongi ruffles your head and grabs his stuff while you do the same.

“Come on, it’s my treat.” Yoongi opens your door and lets you go out first.

“It’s always your treat, Yoongi. When was it not?” Yoongi laughs at that. “True.”

“Make sure to turn them in before the end of next week, okay? I’ll be expecting a lot from you all; you seem like such a promising batch of writers,” Professor Bang says, making you and the rest of the class respond with “yes” and “okay”, just before you stand up to leave.

“Have you thought about what to write for your essay, Y/N?” Namjoon asks you as you both make your way outside the lecture hall along with the other students.

You purse your lips in thought. Professor Bang wanted to start off the semester by making you write about anything that you were comfortable with. He wanted you to show him the things that you were concerned about, the things that were close to you, and you wanted to make sure you left a lasting impression in his class. Professor Bang was someone you could see yourself remembering for a long time, even if the seasons have changed and the days have gone by. He knew how to teach, not because he was smart, but because he was inspired, because he loves what he’s doing, and he wants to share that with students like you and Namjoon. He was a jolly person, but he also wanted to push you to your limits, something you’ve noticed during the hour and a half class with him that morning.

“Hm, I don’t really know yet. Maybe something about transitioning from being a teenager to an adult, the ups and downs that come along with it, the rush of it all. How about you?” You look up at the tall guy beside you, and he pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

“I want to write something about self-love, about what it means to love yourself, despite your flaws and imperfections.” You smile; Namjoon has always been the smartest in your group, always contemplating about things. He had a habit of thinking things through properly, instead of making rash or impulsive decisions.

“Professor Bang makes me want to wear my heart on my sleeve and I don’t know why. He’s that kind of teacher that you want to impress and show all your best sides to, but at the same time, you want to show him all your worst points too, because you know he won’t hold it against you or judge you for it,” Namjoon says your thoughts out loud, making you nod in agreement.

“I really want to do well in his class, I’ve already taken a liking to him,” You reply and suddenly, an arm slings around your shoulder. The familiar smell of his cologne wafts through your nose and you smile, turning to the boy standing beside you.

“Taken a liking to who?” Yoongi asks, raising his free hand up to Namjoon as a greeting. The taller boy raises his eyebrows smiling.

“Professor Bang. He’s like, our favorite teacher now.” You explain and Yoongi lets out an ‘aah’.

“Are you up for some lunch right now? Seokjin and Hobi are at this cool diner ten minutes away from here,” Yoongi asks the two of you and Namjoon shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

When you get to the diner, Seokjin and Hoseok are in another intense conversation again. “I’m telling you, Hobi! She was looking at my broad shoulders!” Seokjin explains dramatically, Hoseok’s eyes were wide as saucers as he sipped on his Sprite, listening to Seokjin. Seokjin leans back in his seat and says casually, “She might even be looking for ways to get my number right now.”

Walking up to them, Yoongi places a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and says, “She was probably staring at the alpacas resting on both shoulders as if they were your devil and angel.” Yoongi pats the alpaca heads sewn on Seokjin’s shoulders. Seokjin had a weird obsession for alpacas, it was insane.

“Why is it that all of you refuse to believe someone’s actually into me? Why do you all keep on insisting that it’s because of my fashion taste? Tsh,” Seokjin complains, scooting over so you can sit next to him. He pats your head and you bump his shoulder in response. Yoongi sits beside Hobi in front of you, and Joon takes the seat at the end of the table.

You give the exasperated man beside you a side hug as he picks up a chicken wing, groaning under his breath. “That’s okay, Seokjinnie. It’s just because they’ve never seen you actually charm the pants off someone,” You try to console him as he pouts while deboning his chicken.

“Oh, don’t boost his ego any further, Y/N,” Yoongi teases, making Hobi and Joon laugh. You pout and give him a look. “I’m not! You guys just don’t appreciate his visuals, right?” You coo and turn to look at Seokjin who finishes his chicken and puts it down, nodding furiously.

“Ah, come here, Y/N!” Seokjin pulls you in, his greasy fingers reaching out for you as you lean back, laughing. He glares at you but still pulls you in, careful to not stain your baby pink blouse. “I only care about Y/N in this friendship now, she’s the only one that can understand me. Look, she’s even wearing my favorite color!” Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh starts up.

Namjoon throws his head back, Hobi slams his hands on the table, and Yoongi’s shoulders shake as they laugh at their eldest friend’s antics. “Yes, now give me some love and feed me,” You reply, opening your mouth for Seokjin to feed you. The boy stops laughing, a serious look on his face replacing his huge grin earlier.

“Look, Y/N. I know I said I care about you, but this is MY chicken,” Seokjin explains seriously. You pout at that and Yoongi, your ever-loving best friend swoops in.

“Stop asking for food from him! He only cares about RJ, come on, I’ll get you food,” Yoongi stands up and you follow suit.

“Oh come on, why do you always treat Y/N out for food? What about us?” Your friends protest and Yoongi squints his eyes at them. “This is my best friend we’re talking about here,” he says matter-of-factly. “Then what are WE? Are we just trees to you now?” Hoseok whines and Namjoon snorts at that.

“You’re my friends, duh?” Yoongi shrugs and you laugh. “Come on, Y/N. You want some milkshake too?” Yoongi turns around.

Namjoon lets out an obvious cough. “Whipped,” he mutters and Hoseok and Seokjin laugh. Yoongi turns back around. “What was that?” he asks, and the boys shake their heads at him.

“Nothing,” Namjoon says casually. Yoongi shrugs, turns back around and pulls you with him to the counter.

Yoongi: something’s up with you. Meet me in the parking lot, we’re going somewhere

You sigh when you read Yoongi’s text. You text back a simple ‘okay, be there in a bit’, before making your way to the other side of the school. Even though you knew Yoongi your whole life, it still amazes you how much he can sense when something is wrong. You haven’t texted him yet about how terrible your day went, and here he is, sending the first text. You look up and think back to the events that happened an hour prior.

It’s the week after the deadline of your essay for Professor Bang’s class and during class that day, he returned your essays, red writings scribbled onto your notebooks. On top of yours, in a slightly messy handwriting were the words, “good job, y/n, see me after class please”. You smiled gently at that but then saw the long note he wrote on Namjoon’s. You were starting to doubt your work, so when class ended, you hastily made your way to the front of the room.

Professor Bang was fixing his things and you waited for the last student to walk out, giving Namjoon a close-lipped smile to let him know he should go ahead. He nods and you turn back around to face Professor Bang.

“Y/N, please sit down, kid,” Professor Bang tells you when he looks up, and you nod, grabbing a chair in the front row and bringing it closer to Professor Bang’s table. You gulp. Professor Bang was a short man, slightly on the chubbier side and had small eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled. He was absolutely adorable, but right now, you were starting to doubt that.

“Why did you call me over, Professor?” You ask timidly. Professor Bang scrunches his face up, removing his glasses as he sits comfortably. “It’s about your essay, Y/N.” He answers and you sit up straighter. “Um, what about it, Sir?”

“Do you remember what I told you when I gave you this assignment?” Professor Bang asks and you pause for a bit.

“You, uh, told us to write about anything we were comfortable with; things that we were concerned about, things that were close to us,” You answer.

He nods. “But you know what else I said? I told you to write without restrictions, to write without thinking much about it,” he tells you and you frown lightly.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you mean, sir.” Professor Bang gives you a gentle smile.

“You wrote about something you were concerned about, correct? The transition of being a teenager to an adult,” he begins, and you nod. “You gave a wonderful essay, actually. But it had no soul, Y/N.” He says, leaving you confused. “When I read your essay you know what I thought? ‘This kid is smart, she’s talented, but she’s also trying too hard,” he explains and your heart drops.

Well. That hurt.

“In my class, Y/N, I want you to write for yourself, not for your grades. I want you to write because you want to, not because you want good grades, or because you want me to notice you. Believe me, I notice all of you. I know who you are when I read your essay. I know the kind of person you are, or you want to become. There are things you were keeping from me in your essay. There were also things you shouldn’t have included in your essay. You were keeping your true self from me. I want you to work on that, okay? Stop thinking about things that could happen in the future and start thinking about the things that could happen now. Focus on the now, rather than the later.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yoongi’s voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up, realizing you’ve mindlessly made it to the parking lot, and in front of his car, no less. You sigh and just look at him. Yoongi steps closer to you, extending his arm out to you. He’s wearing all black today, but the rainbow bracelet you made for him during an arts and craft class in the summer when you were only ten rests comfortably on his wrist.

“Come on, just you and me, yeah?” Yoongi asks you gently, and you nod, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. When you look up at him, you see other students from your peripheral vision stopping to look. Yoongi notices and squeezes your hand to get your attention. You look back at him and nod again. “Okay.”

Yoongi leads you over to your side of the car and he opens the door for you. You get in and he closes it behind you, casually walking around to his side. You see him wave to a few girls who soon giggle after the interaction and snort. Yoongi opens the door and gets in. He puts his key in the ignition and starts up the car.

“Who were those girls?” You ask, and Yoongi hums. “Some girls in my class, according to Seokjin they have the hots for me, but I don’t really know what that means.” You laugh as Yoongi pulls out of his parking space and you twist in your seat, folding your legs underneath you.

“Hey, watch it. I don’t want my seat getting dirt on it,” he calls you out, his eyes never leaving the road. You pout at him and drop your legs, a grin spreading across Yoongi’s face.

“Just kidding. You can pull your feet up. I’ll just have it cleaned if ever, anyway.” You roll your eyes at your best friend.

“Wow, Min Yoongi sure loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of me, his very much broke and short on cash best friend, Y/L/N Y/N.” You proclaim sarcastically, and Yoongi laughs at you, casting you a side glance.

“Hmm, I think it’s more like, Min Yoongi loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of you, his very much broke and short on cash best friend Y/L/N Y/N because he loves you and would spend all of it on you anyway.” Yoongi tips his head at you and you shrug, nodding.

“True.”

Thirty minutes later, Yoongi stops at a cliff overlooking the entire town. The sun was just beginning to set, so you can just about imagine the beautiful scene painted in front of you.

You slowly make your way to the edge of the cliff and lean against the metal railings. You stare into the horizon, the wind blowing in your face. You soon close your eyes, your worries melting away as you just take it all in. You feel Yoongi’s presence beside you when his cologne wafts through your nose like usual. You hum softly.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask him quietly, your eyes still closed.

Yoongi lets out a puff of air and shrugs. “I found this place last week when I didn’t have inspiration for a composition. It helps me clear my mind, you know. Being here. You were going through something, and I just kind of wanted to help ease your worries, I guess.” He explains softly.

You open your eyes and turn to look at him.

To someone who hasn’t known Yoongi their whole life, he was the dark and always angry sort of guy, because he always gave off a dark vibe, wearing fine, expensive clothing that was most of the time black. He stood out among his friends because Hoseok was loud, bright, and giggly; Namjoon was silent, smart, and reserved; and Seokjin…well, he was loud, funny, and attractive. Yoongi was far too different to be part of their circle if you gave them a once over and left it at that alone. But you knew him your whole life. Yes, he did give off that vibe no matter what he did, yes, he stood out among his friends like a sore thumb, but nobody knew how soft and tender he was when it came to you. His friends feared him at times too; when he was in a particularly bad mood (although it was a rare), but never in life were you ever scared of him.

Yoongi always made you feel safe.

And when you look at him now, it didn’t matter that he was wearing all black and probably looked like the typical rich kid bad boy in all those cliché teen novellas. It didn’t matter that he would probably punch someone in the face if they dared touch his Audi. Because when you look at Min Yoongi now, you only saw your best friend since diapers, you only saw the guy who promised to care for and protect you no matter what.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I really needed it,” you whisper, and he smiles at you, something other people don’t see often, but something you saw on the daily. He pulls you in for a hug and you rest your head comfortably on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps his around your shoulders.

“Whatever it was that bothered you, you’ll get through it. I know you can. You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.” Yoongi tells you and nod. He squeezes you gently and kisses the crown of your head.

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Anything for my Y/N.”

“Hey, guys, where’s Yoongi?” You greet Hoseok and Seokjin, as you and Namjoon sit down beside them at a table in the café your group has been frequenting at lately.

Seokjin stops eating his second serving of the banana muffin to look at you, a disappointed look on his face.

“Yah, Y/N. Are you going to ask about Yoongi first before the people that actually invited you over?” Seokjin dramatically complains and you roll your eyes at your overly dramatic friend. You move to sit beside Hoseok instead and Namjoon sits beside the drama queen.

Just to spite him, you use Hoseok’s fork and stab a piece of his banana muffin, shoving it quickly in your mouth. You smirk when Seokjin gasps dramatically and faints, resting on Namjoon dramatically. No wonder he’s a theatre major. The younger boy rolls his eyes at his cousin but lets him stay there.

“He’s in one of the studios, he’s busy composing,” Hoseok answers your question. You give him a hug and he giggles at your action. “Thanks Hobi, you’re definitely not like that dramatic hoe across from me.”

Upon hearing you call him a dramatic hoe, Seokjin sits up straight. Just as he’s about to cry out another complaint, three girls walk up to your table, stopping Seokjin.

“Hi, Seokjin,” the girl in the middle greets, a sweet smile on her face. You bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. Seokjin flashes her a charming smile, which you must admit, does look great on him.

“Hey, Sana,” he greets coolly. Namjoon and Hoseok just watch, and Seokjin revels in the fact that his friends can finally see him charm a girl.

“So there’s this new movie coming out after finals next week, um, do you maybe wanna watch it together sometime?” She asks as her friends giggle.

Seokjin casts his friends side glance, smirking. Hoseok scratches the back of his head, that look on his face, and Namjoon just looks back and forth between Seokjin and the girl.

You can only purse your lips, resisting the urge to laugh.

Seokjin shrugs. “Sure,” Sana bites her lip and smiles.

“And Namjoon and Hoseok can come along too!” Her other two friends nod eagerly, and yours, Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s jaws drop.

“Yeah, they’re coming along too,” Seokjin answers for them and all three of you snap your heads to look at him. What the fuck is he doing? Hoseok slaps a hand to his forehead and Namjoon can only hide his face in his hands.

The girls don’t seem to notice their discomfort about the arrangement because they even ask about Yoongi. “Is he coming along too? My other friend really likes him,” Sana says and just as you’re about to say something, Hoseok jumps in.

“Um, I don’t think Yoongi hyung would appreciate that, he’s already dating someone.”

You, Seokjin, and Namjoon all whip your heads to look at Hoseok.

“Really? But I’ve never seen him out with someone,” Sana’s friend, asks and Hoseok gulps, nodding.

“He’s very private about their relationship, you see,” he chuckles nervously.

The girls pout. “Well, that’s too bad. Anyway, I’ll text you?” Sana turns back to Seokjin who nods. She smiles at him and they say goodbye before walking away.

Once they’re out of earshot, you turn to each other and both Hoseok and Namjoon turn to Seokjin.

“What the hell man?!”

Seokjin raises his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I scored you guys dates. They’ve been head over heels for you since like, midterms, have you never seen them look at you before?” Seokjin asks and the two groan.

“Of course we have! But we don’t know them!” Namjoon stresses. “Then this is the perfect time to get to know them!” Seokjin rebuts.

“They’re not our type, hyung. Do you even know who likes who?” Hoseok cries out. Seokjin pauses, then looks up in thought. “Well, no… but—” Hoseok cuts him off.

“See! Why would you go out on a date if you’re not sure whether they like you or your friend?” Hoseok asks him. Seokjin snorts.

“Yah! At least I didn’t tell them Yoongi was seeing someone when he clearly wasn’t!” At that, you look up from your phone, having given up on joining their conversation earlier.

What a great way to change the topic.

Hoseok sits back and sighs, closing his eyes, knowing he fucked up too. He rubs his temples, clearly exhausted.

“Yeah, what was that about, Hobi?” Namjoon joins in. You can only sit properly in your seat and turn to look at the boy beside you. Hoseok opens his eyes and decides, ‘ah, fuck it’, as he crosses his hands in front of him.

“Yoongi’s not seeing anyone, sure, but he soon will.”

The three of you furrow your eyebrows, not quite sure what Jung Hoseok meant.

Noticing the confused looks on your faces, he sips his peppermint latte and looks at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head.

“I think it’s obvious enough that he’s smitten for you.” You snort at his statement and turn to look at Namjoon and Seokjin, who both catch on and soon have the same expressions on their faces, one that makes it look like they know something you don’t.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, confused. Namjoon sighs and you turn to look at him. “Yoongi likes you, Y/N. He may not know it right now, but he will.” You laugh nervously and shake your head. “No, he doesn’t. He’s always been like that with me, guys.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “It’s always been you. It’s always been different whenever you were involved. Yoongi’s different when you’re around.”

“But, how?” You ask, still clearly confused. You honestly didn’t know what they were talking about. Nothing made sense to you; what did they mean by Yoongi being different when you were around? Yoongi’s still Yoongi.

“What’s so wrong with Yoongi liking you, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing, I just don’t quite understand. How can Yoongi be different around me?” Seokjin sighs and fixes his hair.

“You’re both so dense, I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” he complains. “You’ll realize it eventually. I won’t spoon feed you both on this. It’s time for you to figure that part out for yourselves.” Seokjin finishes his muffin.

“Okay, I better get going, I have to meet up with some of my classmates, we’re revising for the finals next week,” Seokjin stands up and pats your head as he grabs his stuff. You all say goodbye to him and he heads out.

The three of you stay for a little bit longer before you decide to head out. The sun was already beginning to set. You say goodbye to Hoseok and Namjoon; Hoseok had to stop by the dance studio and Namjoon was heading for the library.

Finals week is next week but you were in no mood to study and review for it just yet. The events from earlier kept clouding your thoughts and you didn’t know what to think of it all. So, instead of heading for the library, you make your way to the field where you see other students sitting together in groups, talking, studying, and hanging out amongst themselves.

You make your way under a huge tree and sit down, placing your books and backpack beside you as you lean on the tree trunk. Folding your legs, you wrap your arms around your shins, resting your head on the space between your knees.

You allow your mind to drift off and think of Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok’s words from earlier. Of course Yoongi likes you, you’re his best friend. But Yoongi liking you in a different sense? You weren’t so sure about that. Sure, he’s affectionate and overprotective with you, but that’s probably because he sees you like a little sister.

But then again, you do notice that Yoongi really is different with how he treats you, ever since you were little.

“Y/N! Come sit beside me, I wanna show you something,” an adorable, 5-year old Min Yoongi with a few missing teeth beckons you to come sit beside him on the piano chair, his small legs dangling underneath him. You make your way over to him, your fingers still slightly sticky from the lollipop you just ate. You clamber up the piano chair, courtesy of the small stool placed next to it.

Yoongi grins at you and you merely look at him, before your eyes drift over to the white music sheets laid out in front of him. Your best friend was a prodigy and you knew that. The slightly shaky handwriting of his musical notes on the sheets were enough evidence for you to know that he composed it himself.

“What’s that, Yoongi?” you finally say, pressing a sticky pointer finger to the white sheet music. Yoongi gently takes your hand off the paper and places it back onto your lap as he looks at you with a bright smile on your face.

“I made this song for you, Y/N! I want you to listen to it carefully, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you grin excitedly.

Yoongi turns to face his piano properly and ever so delicately, he places his fingers on the black and white keys, his fingers dancing over them so effortlessly. It didn’t matter that his hands were still a bit too short for the huge piano, he still hit each and every note with precision. A beautiful melody fills the room and your eyes brighten up at the sound of it.

When Yoongi finishes, you tackle him in a hug, not caring about your sticky face or fingers at all.

“That was pretty, Yoongi!” he giggles at your reaction and hugs you back with the same enthusiasm.

You smile fondly at the memory, that was the very first song Yoongi ever composed, and he was only five. He made it for you and even named it after you. Up to this day, that was your favorite composition of Yoongi’s.

The wind picks up and your hair blows not so gracefully in your face. You sputter after your hair gets stuck in your mouth and a melodious laughter comes from behind you. You turn around and sure enough, your best friend is standing there, a bright gummy smile on his face. His shoulders are shaking slightly as he laughs at your expression and walks closer to you.

You scoot over and make some space for him. Yoongi flops down beside you, letting out a relaxed sigh after doing so. He gives you a side hug, patting the top of your head and you line your head on his shoulder.

“How did composing go?” you bring up and he clicks his tongue. “It went great, I think I’m ready for finals next week. How about you?” Yoongi gives you his full attention.

You shrug and he nudges you to continue.

“I’m having a hard time in Professor Bang’s class. I’m finding it hard to write anything without it coming off as trying too hard or with no effort at all. He wants me to write about me but I don’t quite get it. It’s been on my mind ever since you brought me to that cliff a few weeks ago. I’m never proud with the things I write and although Professor Bang doesn’t say much anymore, I can still feel that he’s still not contented with my work. He’s still looking for something,” you sigh and Yoongi squeezes your shoulder gently.

“You wanna know my secret?” Yoongi begins and you snort.

“What are we, five?” Yoongi laughs. “You need to wear your heart on your sleeve. You need to let your guard down, Y/N. That’s how I compose such great songs. Being an artist kind of means like presenting yourself naked to your audience.”

You give him a look.

“What I’m trying to say is, you shouldn’t hide who you are from your audience. You also shouldn’t try too hard to please or satisfy them. Go for what makes you happy. Go for what makes you sad, or angry, or frustrated, or confused. Don’t go for what makes them happy, sad, angry, frustrated, or confused. Your audience’s feelings will just follow through, you have to make them feel what you feel.”

You look at him in amazement, your lips parting slightly. Yoongi gives you a confused look. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Now I know why you’re my best friend.” You proclaim and he grins at you.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You better, Min.”

Later that night, you pull out the worn journal that Yoongi gave you for your thirteenth birthday, something he bought on a trip with his family in Greece. You treasured it so much, because most of your favorite writings were in there and it’s been a witness to your best and worst moments. Your fingers trace the worn out pages, a smile growing on your face as you skim through your writings.

You didn’t stick to one kind of literary work; you wrote whatever came to your mind. There were scribbles and doodles, and you even found some pages stained with tears, ink, and… chocolate?

Damn, you were quite the messy kid, weren’t you?

You reach a blank page and pull out a random pen - which turned out to have pink ink, from your pouch.

You pull the cap out and stick it in the other end, your hand hovering over the page, hesitating. You remember Professor Bang’s words and Yoongi’s advice from earlier.

Slowly, you put your pen down and your fingers start writing the first few lines to a new piece.

Maybe it was the way he constantly made me smile,

Maybe it was how he’d always go the extra mile,

“It’s different when you’re involved,” they said,

You started filling up every corner and every crevice of my head.

Was this how it was supposed to be,

Should it have been you and me?

Well, you always left me lost in a trance,

So maybe we should give this love a chance.

You stop writing and your eyes scan what you wrote. Your lips part open slightly at the realization of what you just wrote. Were you writing about Yoongi? Was this what the boys were talking about?

You’re not quite sure about it, but you might just already be in love with Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, and young little Y/N was already bored to death. You and Yoongi were supposed to be in the middle of a game of snakes and ladders, but the young boy had left the playroom to get something from his room. He hasn’t returned for only five minutes, yet you thought it felt like an entire lifetime.

Getting up from your spot on the floor, you make your way over to Yoongi’s grand piano sat in the corner of the large room. You eye pieces of paper lying on the floor, musical notes scribbled on it.

Young, 3-year old you knew nothing about music, but the way the notes were scribbled on the paper left you intrigued. You crouched down, picked one up from the pile and brought it back with you to your previous spot, where your crayons were sprawled all over the floor messily.

You flop down with a huff and lies flat on your stomach, the sheet music in front of you . You pick up your chubby red crayon and bring it over the paper, pressing lightly as you start doodling all over Yoongi’s composition.

In the middle of your artwork, Yoongi walks in the room with a pink box and he gasps when he sees his best friend scribble over the composition he just finished yesterday.

“Y/N, no!” He drops the box and runs over to you as fast as his little feet can carry him.

At the sound of Yoongi’s voice, you stop doodling and turn around, sitting up when you see Yoongi running over to you. Yoongi quickly grabs the sheet, his eyes frantically looking over the sheet music that was now covered with red doodles.

Yoongi’s eyes begin to water and although you didn’t quite understand it all, you knew that your best friend was upset. His bottom lip begins to tremble, and soon, tears flow from his eyes and he lets out a cry as he looks at his destroyed composition.

The sound of footsteps soon come closer and you turn around, seeing your mom and Yoongi’s mom walk in the room with confused looks on their faces. They spot the children sat on the floor and their eyes take in the scene in front of them - Yoongi was clutching a piece of paper in his hands, crying, and you were looking up at them, a confused look on your face mirroring theirs.

“What happened here?” Your mom asks as they both bend down to you and Yoongi.

Yoongi turns to look at his mom as he cries. “Y/N scribbled all over my sheet music.” He crawls over to his mom and hugs her, hiding his face in her chest as he continues to cry.

Both his mom and your mom turn to look at you, and it’s then that you realize it’s your fault. Tears fill your eyes as well and you stand up to hug your mom too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you cry, hiding from Yoongi and his mom, ashamed of what you’d done.

At the sound of your crying, Yoongi stops crying and turns to look at you. He steps away from his mom and waddles over to you, his small hands reaching out to grab your arm.

“No, no, don’t cry, too.” He sniffles and he pulls you to face him.

Reluctantly, you turn to face him and you try to stop crying as Yoongi squishes your face in his hands.

“It’s okay, I can do it again,” he tells you and you shake your head no.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi! It won’t happen again,” You cry and Yoongi can only nod. He pulls you with him, and he leads the both of you over to the grand piano. Yoongi gives you a side hug and he places his fingers on the black and white keys. Yoongi begins to play your favorite song, the very first one he wrote for you, snot and tears and all that.

You sniffle and calm down when you hear the familiar comforting melody. You wipe your snot away and rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Your moms watch the scene in front of them, knowing smiles on their faces.

“If our kids don’t end up together, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Your mom whispers to Yoongi’s mom as they leave the room.

Yoongi’s mom snorts. “Don’t worry, because by the looks of it, my son’s smitten as hell and he’s only five.”

Your mom laughs at that. “True.”

“Woah, are you okay, bubs?” Yoongi asks worriedly when he steps inside your dorm room and takes in the sight before him.

Books and notebooks are open sprawled around your bed and on the floor, your pens and highlighters open and probably all dried up, your hair was tied up in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been brushed properly since this morning, and your laptop open in front of you while you sit on your computer chair, your left leg folded underneath you and your right leg stretched out all the way to your bed. Your laptop was playing Day6’s Congratulations, and you were furiously typing away, cramming through your essays that were also due during finals week.

Your glasses fall down the bridge of your nose and you sigh, taking them off before you turn around to greet your best friend.

“Hey, Yoons, what’s up?” You smile tiredly at him, reaching over your bed to push away your books and notebooks to make room for your best friend to sit down on.

You chuckle as he sits down, scratching your hair. “Sorry about the mess, I didn’t have the time to fix it earlier.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. But you should really take a break, don’t overwork yourself,” Yoongi smiles and ruffles your hair, making you laugh. You spot the gray flask in his left hand and your eyes widen.

“Is that soju?” You gasp and Yoongi nods. You lean forward and snatch the flask from him, twisting the cap open. You pour some of the alcoholic drink onto the cap and down it all in one go, the strong taste burning down your throat. You think that maybe Yoongi meant to bring this for you and not for him, because it’s your favorite flavor, classic. Yoongi could never tolerate the classic flavor of soju and he always opted for the fresh one.

Yoongi simply watches you take shot after shot of the alcoholic drink and smiles, knowing you’ll get a hangover the next day. Nevermind though, because he’ll take care of you anyway, and your first exam isn’t until 2:00 pm tomorrow.

Once you’ve finished the entire bottle, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, grinning drunkenly at your best friend. He smirks at the sight of you and stands up to save your work. He closes your laptop and crouches down to look at you.

“You’re such an alcoholic, Y/L/N Y/N.” Yoongi comments and you can only giggle.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You pat his cheek, and knock out dead on your desk, snoring away as your head rests on your laptop. Y/L/N Y/N is out like a light at 5:22 pm.

Yoongi’s gummy smile makes its appearance as you sleep soundly, without a care in the world. He turns around and stares at the mess cluttering around your room. Yoongi bends down and starts cleaning; he picks up your pens and highlighters and puts the caps back on, although he doubts that they’d still work (maybe you bought those kind that would last for up to 48 hours uncapped but he wasn’t so sure, knowing you), and he closes your books, making sure to stick in bookmarks in case those pages were important. He stacks your stuff on the extra table beside your desk and fixes your bed for you to sleep in.

Yoongi turns around and he laughs softly at the sight of your drool running down the side of your arm. Yoongi crouches down and he brushes the hair away from your face. Upon taking a closer look at you, he can see how much you’ve stressed yourself out this week.

The dark circles under your eyes, the messy hair, and the way you snored were enough to tell Yoongi that you were dead tired. Even your drool told Yoongi that you were exhausted, because you only ever drooled in your sleep when you were worn out.

Yoongi carefully helps you out of your chair and onto your bed, where he tucks you in snugly. He turns the lights off and leaves only your night light on. Yoongi sits down beside you and simply admires the way you sleep (it’s not as creepy as you think it is!).

Yoongi watches the way your chest heaves up and down as your breathe slowly, soft snores leaving your lips. He watches the way a small smile is etched onto your lips, making you look so sweet and so innocent, like you didn’t just down an entire flask of soju in one go. He watches the way you shift to a more comfortable position, pushing your face further into your pillow.

And as Yoongi watches you sleep so peacefully, he realizes that he can get used to this - get used to watching you fall asleep, and maybe, just maybe, fall asleep with you. Yoongi thinks that if seeing you fall asleep makes him want to fall asleep with you, then maybe the idea of waking up with you isn’t so bad, either.

A soft mumble leaves your lips and you start to babble nonsense, things like “after the falling action is the denouement, and yay, the end”, and Yoongi smiles.

Without realizing it, Yoongi leans forward, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good night, Y/N.”

His heart flutters at his own action, and Yoongi smiles when he realizes it.

“I love my best friend. I love Y/N. I love you,” Yoongi whispers to himself, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form.

You are never drinking before an exam ever again.

Your head is throbbing and you can’t move because every small action makes your head feel like it’s about to break. You can totally place the blame on your best friend because he didn’t stop you from downing the entire flask, but at the same time, it’s all your fault for even drinking in the first place when you knew you had an exam the following day.

You close your eyes and shield it with your arm as the 7:00 am sunlight streams in through the bedroom windows. Your stomach is grumbling and you realize that you didn’t even eat dinner last night because you fell asleep at 5:00 pm after drinking.

You badly want to get up and go find something to eat in your stash but like we’ve already established earlier, you can’t. So you endure your hunger until the hangover goes away. If it goes away.

The door opens and your savior walks through the door.

Thank God for Min Yoongi.

“Oh, you’re awake already. I brought you some aspirin and hangover food,” he greets you, closing the door shut behind him gently. Yoongi places his stuff on your chair as he makes his way over to you, helping you sit up. You’re groaning and clutching onto your best friend’s shoulders because you can’t bring yourself to sit up properly.

Yoongi’s arms wound around your waist and - oh, come on, why now - butterflies erupt in your stomach, along with the acid and the hunger (okay that’s kinda gross). You scoot over to the wall and Yoongi places a pillow behind you to separate your back from the cold, hard wall.

Boyfriend material, anybody?

Yoongi opens the bottled water he bought and places a tablet of aspirin on your weakly opened palm. You take the medicine and finish the entire bottle of water, refreshing yourself completely.

Your head feels a bit better now and the pain is now tolerable. “Ugh, don’t make me drink before an exam again,” you groan and lean forward, clutching onto your stomach as you rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi chuckles and although your head’s aching at his action, you like hearing his laugh. He strokes your hair gently and you scoot closer to him, practically clinging onto him.

“You wanna eat?” Yoongi asks you and you nod from your place in the crook of his neck. Yoongi reaches over to get your food. He starts feeding you saltine crackers and fruits and coconut milk and you think it’s weird but according to him it’s good for a hangover.

While you take small bites from the banana, Yoongi focuses all his attention on you. The sun shines on you in just the right spot; it hits your eyes perfectly that the natural color pops out prettily. Your cheeks are puffed out slightly and you chew on your banana in complete concentration.

You soon feel his gaze on you and your heart speeds up upon realizing it. Your senses are unbelievably heightened while you’re hungover, apparently. You swallow your last piece of the banana carefully before looking up at Yoongi.

When you do, a smile is on his lips and he looks at you with this strange look on his face; you’re not sure what it is, exactly. You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“What?”

Yoongi shakes his head and he cups your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb gently along your cheek. His action causes more butterflies to erupt in your stomach, and at this point, you’re not sure if you want to vomit or eat some more.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi whispers, his eyes never leaving yours.

You really can’t understand your best friend right now and you also don’t want to get your hopes up, so you laugh it off.

“I know I am, especially when I’m hungover,” you joke and you think Yoongi’s smile falters a bit, but he quickly covers it up with a grin.

He clears his throat, and stands up. You follow his actions, and he pats your shoulder gently.

“Get a few more hours of rest, you’ll feel better just before your exam, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you pout, making him want to just ditch his 8:30 exam to stay with you a little longer.

“Won’t you stay with me?” You tug on the hem of his yellow hoodie (wow, a change if wardrobe for finals week?), and he shakes his head ‘no’.

“Unfortunately, not everyone has exams that start at 2:00 pm. I’ve got my first one at 8:30 and it’s already 7:45. The building’s three blocks away from here, too.” Yoongi explains and you nod in understanding.

“That’s fine, good luck on your exam,” you reply, and Yoongi leans down to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

“Get some rest, love.” Yoongi whispers, making your heart speed up at the endearment.

“I will.” You assure him and he cups your face in his hands, rubbing your cheeks gently with the pads of his thumbs.

“I’ll call you, okay?” Yoongi asks and you smile, nodding.

He stands back up to his full height and makes his way to the door. He gives you one last smile before twisting the doorknob and stepping out.

The door closes and you wait for a few more beats before you sigh.

Yes, you were definitely in love with your best friend and it wasn’t the heightened senses that came with the hangover.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Hoseok claps his hands together excitedly, earning an eye roll from Seokjin and a smile from Namjoon. Yoongi can only stare at his friends in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘I knew it’?” Yoongi asks and the three boys look at each other, sighing simultaneously.

“Hyung, everyone can see how much you’re in love with her, except the both of you. Have you never read those cliché best friends to lovers trope on Tumblr?” Hoseok asks and Yoongi merely shrugs.

“I don’t have time for that shit,” Yoongi deadpans.

“But you have time for Y/N,” Seokjin points out.

“Because he’s whipped, you guys,” Namjoon adds in.

“Whatever,” Yoongi dismisses his friends comments. “All I know is that I love her. I really, really, do.” Yoongi confesses.

“Then tell her!” His friends say in unison.

“I will! I’m just,” Yoongi pauses and they look at him expectantly.

He looks at them before continuing, “I’m just trying to find the right time to confess, I think she feels the same way.”

Seokjin flips his bangs and sighs. “Not think, but know. It’s obvious how much you both love each other, Yoongi. Literally anyone with two eyes and common sense can see that.”

“Except maybe for those girls the other week,” Namjoon coughs into his shoulder and Hoseok bursts out in laughter, holding his hand up for a high five which Namjoon gladly reciprocates.

“Yah, don’t be mean, I think they’re really nice,” Seokjin defends them and Yoongi shakes his head at them.

Namjoon and Hoseok turn their attention to Yoongi and forget about the handsome elder.

“So, do you need our help with confessing?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi looks up in thought. “I haven’t really thought that far yet, all I know is that I want it to be something she’ll never forget.”

“You can maybe write her a song?” Hoseok suggests.

“I write her songs all the time,” Yoongi points out.

“Maybe you can take her out somewhere and prepare this really extravagant surprise,” Namjoon tries.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Y/N’s not into that, remember? I need this to be perfect,” he stresses.

Yes, Min Yoongi was hands down whipped for you because instead of worrying about his next exam set to happen in thirty minutes, he’s busy worrying about how he’s going to confess to you.

His friends sigh.

“Hyung, I think you should take a break. Go prepare for your exams, yeah?” Namjoon suggests and Yoongi gives in.

“You’re right, I have one in thirty minutes.”

Hoseok smiles and stands up. “I’ve gotta go, mine’s in fifteen minutes.”

“And you’re that chill?” Namjoon looks amazed. Hoseok grins.

“The perks of being a dance major, baby,” Hoseok shrugs casually before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and making his way out of the café.

Seokjin lets out a relaxed sigh. “I’m all done for the day, so I’m going to go eat something somewhere and think of how you can confess to Y/N.” Yoongi gives his hyung an appreciative smile.

“Thanks, hyung, but don’t you have exams to prepare for?” Seokjin snorts.

“I studied all of last week, I think I’m all done. One more and I might actually go crazy.” Yoongi and Namjoon laugh at that.

Yoongi makes his move to stand up. “I’ll see you guys later, good luck.” He pats the guys on the back before he leaves.

On the short walk to his building, Yoongi pulls his phone out and presses on speed dial 1, of course, the one and only Y/L/N Y/N.

Y/N picks up after three rings.

“Hey, why’d you call?” Y/N’s sweet voice rings through the phone and a smile automatically makes its way to Yoongi’s face.

“Hey, how are you feeling, bubs?” Yoongi inquires.

“All better, thanks to you! Although I’m kind of starving, I have an hour and a half before my first test,” Y/N chirps.

“Joon and Jin hyung are at the café, maybe you can go grab something to eat with them, I have an exam in twenty minutes,” Yoongi informs her.

“Okay! Good luck on that, you’ll do great,” Y/N tells him sweetly.

“Aaah, I know I will. You’re my lucky charm,” Yoongi smirks and he can just see Y/N’s blushing cheeks from the way she started to stutter.

“Uh...ha ha, okay, uh, gotta go, Yoons! Bye!” She immediately hangs up and Yoongi chuckles when he hears the line drop dead.

Yoongi shakes his head and slides his phone back into his pocket as he walks inside the music building.

The smile never leaves his face, even as he starts to answer his test all the way until he finishes it. The people he shared that class with started to worry for his mental health, because Yoongi never smiled this much, never smile this genuine. Well, he did smile occasionally, but there was something different with the way Yoongi carried himself that day that left his classmates slightly concerned for him.

“Hey, Yoongi. You alright, man?” Kyungsoo, a friend he talks to occasionally in his class asks.

Yoongi nods, a smile on his lips. “Yeah, why?”

Kyungsoo looks at him weirdly. He laughs it off. “Nothing. Just, if you need someone to talk to, I’m all ears,” Kyungsoo pats him on the back.

It’s Yoongi’s turn to look at him weirdly. “Huh, okay, Soo. Thanks.” Kyungsoo nods and leaves the room, just as a beep comes from his phone.

It wasn’t just any beep, it was your ringtone. Yoongi had set specific ringtones for your texts and calls, so he’d know if he has to answer the call right away or not.

Yes, Min Yoongi was both smitten and biased when it came to you.

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : hello there

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : are your exams done? im kinda hungry

Just seeing your contact name — which you set, not him, already sent a smile crawling up his lips.

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : yea, see u

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : hoseok still has one exam left, I’ll meet u and joon there

He begins making his way back to the café, navigating his way through the students and the hallways with his phone in his hands.

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : it’s just me, joon says he still has something to do

Yoongi wishes he can go give Kim Namjoon a hug (but he would never admit that in front of him) right now.

Yoongi [3:08 pm] : okay lol

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : see u there :DD

When Yoongi reaches the café,you’re already sitting in your usual spot, going over some of your notes while you sip on your iced latte. Yoongi walks over, a soft smile on his lips. He knocks on the table gentle. You look up, and a smile immediately graces your features.

“Hey, how was your exam?” You greet as Yoongi sits down in front of you.

“It went really well, how about yours?” Yoongi inquires as he reaches forward to hold your right hand, playing with your fingers while he waits for your response.

You blush at the action and Yoongi marvels at your flustered reaction. You soon brush it off like it was nothing and take a sip from your drink to, hopefully, help cool down your flaming cheeks.

“Great, too! I hope I really poured all of my heart into it that Professor Bang will be proud of it,” you reply and Yoongi squeezes your hand gently.

“I’m sure you did, you worked hard last night,” Yoongi reassures you and you laugh.

“I’m pretty sure I got wasted last night, Yoongi.” He laughs at your retort, agreeing with you.

“Yeah, I know, but I think you did study before I arrived with the soju.” Yoongi’s reply makes the two of you laugh.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Yoongi.” You give him a gentle smile.

He returns it with one of his own. “Anything for you, Y/N.”

Were you dense? Or was Yoongi not obvious enough? No, that can’t be it. He’s very transparent with his feelings for you, right? Min Yoongi can’t seem to understand why you don’t seem to notice his advances on you. At all.

Finals week was done and over with, and for an entire week Yoongi has been trying to get you to see how much he likes you. Even during the break, Yoong did everything; he took you out on dates, gave you more gifts than usual, paid more attention to you (if he was attentive before, he got even more attentive now), and flirted with you every chance he got.

But it’s the start of the second semester now and he still hasn’t confessed to you yet.

“I’m telling you, hyung! It’s like she pays no attention to anything I do at all. Are you guys sure she feels the same way?” Yoongi stresses, ranting to the broad shouldered male sat in front of him. The other two younger boys look at each other, giving each other that I’m tired, he’s spewing nonsense again look before grabbing Yoongi’s attention.

“Yes, she does! She probably thinks you’re just being your normal self around her,” Namjoon responds.

“But I’m not being my normal self around her…?” Yoongi trails off.

The boys sigh. “You are, you’re normally affectionate with her, Yoongi. So Y/N thinks you’re just being you,” Seokjin adds.

“Yeah, hyung. Y/N doesn’t think anything’s changed at all. Well, maybe she thinks you’re a bit more affectionate but she’s just probably just brushing it off as you being you.” Hoseok pipes in.

“Then what do I do?” Yoongi asks, clearly pressed about everything.

Just then, the bell to the café’s door rings noisily and the four turn around to see Y/N rushing over to them.

“Speak of the devil,” Namjoon mutters and Yoongi stares a him. “She’s not a devil, Joon.” Namjoon slaps his forehead.

“It’s an expression, hyung --” Namjoon’s cut off when you blurt out, “I need food.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow at you. “There’s food? Over there?” He points toward the cashier. You look over to where his index finger is pointing before turning back to them, shaking your head.

“I have class in like, 15 minutes, but I was hungry so I ran over here - because my building’s all the way on the other side - to buy something but when I was a few steps away from the door I realized I forgot my wallet at the dorms and the dorms are even farther away and I don’t have much of a choice anymore because if I still tried going back that would take me another 10 minutes or so and like I said, I only have 15 minutes and I’m really hungry so I can’t go back anymore and I just really need money for food.” You finish all in one breath, heaving lightly because you’re out of breath from running and explaining yourself.

The four look at you before Yoongi shifts in his seat, pulling his card out for you.

“Here, go buy something,” he holds it out to you. Your eyes lighten, and just as your about to take it, a light bulb goes off in Yoongi’s head and he withdraws his outstretched hand, halting your actions.

“What?” You ask, slightly agitated.

Yoongi smirks. “Kiss me first.”

Your eyes widen, Kim Seokjin’s eyes widen, Kim Namjoon’s eyes widen, and Jung Hoseok’s eyes widen.

Wait, what?

A blush creeps up your cheeks, your palms start to clam up, and your heart starts beating faster. Oh, and your stomach grumbles for the umpteenth time too.

Yoongi only looks at you, the smirk still on his face, and his credit card resting in between his index and middle finger, just close enough for you to reach if you moved just a tad bit closer.

If you kiss Yoongi, he’ll definitely know your feelings for him. If you don’t it would make things awkward between the two of you. If you kiss him, at least you’d get food, right?

Yoongi’s starting to slightly regret his impulsive decision, but he freezes when you just go for it, and lean down to kiss his cheek, snatching the card in his fingers before you run out.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hoseok manages to speak up and Yoongi snaps out of his trance.

“Dude, what the fuck, go after her!” Hoseok shakes Yoongi who soon realizes what’s really going on. He stands up abruptly and goes after you.

“Wow, they’re a mess,” Seokjin comments as they watch Yoongi through the glass of the cafe.

“Come on, let’s go after them,” Namjoon stands up and Seokjin and Hoseok follow suit.

“Y/N, wait!” Yoongi calls out to you and when you hear his voice, you skid to a halt in the middle of the field, where some dance majors are running a routine. You attract the attention of the dance majors and they stop dancing to look at you. Clutching Yoongi’s credit card in your hand, you slowly turn around to face him.

He’s running over to you and he’s panting. When he’s close enough, he leans forward and rests his hands on his knees.

“You’re going to be late to class anyway, just, listen to me,” Yoongi wheezes out.

You bite your lip, your heart racing as you stare at the boy in front of you. When he finally catches his breath, he stands back up to his full height and looks at you.

“Yoongi, listen,I--” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, I know you’re going to be late, I’m sorry but wait, just...let me get this off my chest because I might explode if I don’t let this out anymore, okay?” He holds you by the shoulders and you can only nod, flustered and confused at the same time.

From his peripheral, Yoongi can see a small crowd starting to form, he can see the boys somewhere too and the dance majors all stopped dancing to look at you both.

Oh, well.

Yoongi breathes deeply before he fixes his eyes on you and on you alone.

Here it goes.

“Y/L/N YN, I love everything about you. I love the way you eat your ramen with a spoon instead of chopsticks because you’re always complaining about how your fingers hurt because you’re not the best at using chopsticks even though you’re supposed to be good at it, I mean gosh, you’re Korean you’re supposed to know that shit. I love how you can’t fall asleep without your blue and white flannel blanket because it’s the only blanket your body seems to like. I love how even though it’s beginning to smell so bad because of your drool and the food crumbs and the drinks that fall on it you still choose to use it. I love how you also sleep with that one pillow of yours that’s been there the moment I walked into the hospital room to see you bundled up in Auntie’s arms, eyes closed and without a care in the world because you were just born moments ago, and it’s so old that it’s not so fat and fluffy anymore, and oh, it also smells so bad too, seriously what is it with you and your things in bed smelling bad? Can they seriously not get washed? I love how you never use a brush to fix your hair because you’re that kind of person that just runs a hand through their hair a couple of times and you’re already good to go. I love how you scrunch your face up every time you insult one of the boys, every time you want to tease me, and every time you have your way because yet again, I’ve fallen victim to your ridiculous wishes and ideas. I love how every time you put food into your mouth, you’re pouting and chewing at the same, fuck, do you know what that fucking does to me, Y/N? It makes me go crazier and even more head over heels for you. I love how you always come to me for everything because you know that I’d never ever say no to you, it makes me feel like I matter so much to you. I love that you depend so much on me because yes, I want that so much, I want to spoil you so damn much. I love giving you all that you want, I love spoiling with anything that you want and need, no matter how stupid or out of this world or irrational it may be. I love it so much because I love the way your eyes light up like a thousand stars whenever I say yes, and fuck that’s so, so fucking cheesy but I don’t fucking care anymore because I’m pretty sure I’ve said too much that it’s enough to complete one whole damn song and I know I can’t sing but I can play the piano and compose songs so maybe I can rap too? And dammit, Y/N, I’ve loved you so much since the moment I probably first laid my eyes on you, or maybe when I wrote my first song for you and you asked me to play it for you every day. Hell, I may have even started loving you when you scribbled all over my sheet music with your big fat, red crayon. I love how you’re so selfless, how you get along with my boys, how you’re damn smart and ambitious but you’d much rather watch How I Met Your Mother and listen to angsty Day6 songs for hours on end while you wrote equally angsty prose and poetry. I love you every time you get wasted the night before an exam, drinking your stress and worries away with soju, complain about the hangover the next day and do it all over again despite promising to never do it again. I love that even though it gets you wasted because that just gives me an excuse to take care of you and have I told you that I love taking care of you? I love you for everything that you are and I’d fucking say more but dammit, we’re in public and people…people are beginning to record my confession, they were just looking at us…wait what the fuck? And I’m a blushing, stuttering mess and I’ve just poured my entire heart out to you, all these feelings I’ve kept bottled up since I was, I don’t know, five and you were three, and I’m not even fucking sure if you feel the same way but you just kissed my cheek back in the café so maybe that counts for something? Maybe it really was for the food, I don’t know. But god, I love you so much, Y/N and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but I just want you to know that I don’t want things to ever change between us even if my feelings are out in the open already and I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve because I’m just so damn smitten for you. I love you, Y/N.”

Yoongi finishes his rant, and he’s breathing heavily and his heart’s beating out of his chest and he doesn’t know what to do next because you’re just standing in front of him, eyes wide, cheeks a dark shade of red, and your heart ready to burst out of your ribcage at his confession.

For someone who’s a creative writing major, for someone who’s so good with words, you’re speechless. For the first time in your entire life, you’re speechless.

“So,” Seokjin shouts from the crowd, effectively catching both yours and Yoongi’s attention, “are you just going to stand there and keep him waiting or will you tell him you love him too?”

The crowd coos, and your eyes dart back to Yoongi’s.

“Yoongi, I love you too.” You say simply and the crowd interrupts into cheers as Yoongi lets out a relieved sigh, stepping forward and pulling you into his embrace. Yoongi bends down to bury his face in your neck and you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he wraps his around your waist.

“Thank God you love me too, that would’ve been so embarrassing if you didn’t,” Yoongi whispers and you giggle.

You both pull away, and then turn to see that the crowd has dispersed, while your friends shot you thumbs ups before walking away to give you some alone time.

You look up at Yoongi, your smile bright as you see all the love and adoration Yoongi held for you.

“Well, you feed me well, Min Yoongi.” you reply, rising up on your tiptoes to kiss his nose.

“Oh yeah, let’s go get your food, I know you’re hungry.” Yoongi intertwines your fingers with his, leading you both back to the café.

“See, this is why I love you so much,” You grin, swinging your hands together.

Yoongi stops walking and turns to you. He cups your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks softly. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

You hold onto his wrists and give him a mischievous grin. “More than your Audi?” You challenge, and Yoongi laughs heartily, kissing your forehead.

“A billion times more than my Audi.”

⇒ let me know what you think or hmu with anything under the sun here!

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imagines-dreams · 5 years ago

Text

Why He Invented Time Travel

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: endgame spoilers, if that still applies, and mentions of anxiety/PTSD, lots of fluff to make up for it

Summary: I wrote a scene where Peter Parker finds out that his memory was the thing that convinced Tony Stark to try inventing time travel again feat. babysitter!Peter, sweet little Morgan, Tony Stark being a parent, and a little bit of babysitter!Nebula

Word Count: 5629

~ - ~

Ever since the Battle of Thanos, Peter had a lot of things to catch up on. Mr. Stark had married Ms. Potts, (he thought they were married before but that’s beside the point). They had a daughter named Morgan, and she was a cutie. He and his aunt had to bargain for their apartment again. Also, some kids were older, and some weren’t? Like Harley! Harley was supposed to be a year younger than he was, but no. Harley Keener was now four years older than Peter. (Harley likes gloating about it all the time now.)

All in all, the snap really messed up this timeline.

Still, the best part was Morgan. Even though Peter wasn’t there for the first four years of her life, he knew the moment he met her that he’d love her with everything he had.

“Peter.”

He smiled at the guardian. “Hey, Nebula.”

She attempted a smile and stepped away from the door to let Peter in.

“Who’s here today?” Peter asked, putting his backpack down by the table. Morgan collided with his leg with a giggle. “Peter’s back!”

Peter laughed and hulled her up. “Wow, you’re getting big, huh?”

“Morgan’s here,” Nebula said. “Harley left approximately twenty-three minutes ago for the compound. Riri was here two days and two hours ago and is currently back home working on her suit.”

“Peter, look!” Morgan pointed at the door.

Peter turned, and just like that, his hair stood on end, and his skin raised into goosebumps. There was a tick, tick of a rudimentary gun. He held up his hand just in time to catch the incoming sock ball.

“Aw.” Morgan pouted. “Harley said he could hit you this time.”

“My spider sense is too good.”

“Tingle!” Morgan corrected with a giggle.

He shook his head and poked her stomach. “Spidey sense!”

“Peter tingle,” Nebula deadpanned.

Peter narrowed his eyes at Nebula, but the ex-assassin stepped forward so she was closer to Peter. She tilted her head, and her smirk, though playful, dared him to correct the child again.

Peter blinked. “Fine. Peter tingle.”

“Yay!” The girl threw her arms up in the air. Her center of balance shifted, and her body fell out of Peter’s arms. Just as Peter was fumbling to catch her again, Nebula caught her and puts her back on the ground. Once her feet touched the ground, the little girl, completely unfazed by the fact that she almost fell from Peter’s arms, ran back to her toys in the living room, laughing and shouting about things she had just imagined.

Nebula crossed her arms.

“Sh-She, well, she was the one who,” Peter fumbled. “I mean, come on. Nebula, I was-”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nebula smiled, with a little too much teeth, but as soon as Peter saw her teeth, she stopped smiling. “I must attend a meeting with the guardians. Tony will be here in three hours and thirty-two minutes.”

Peter nodded. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Nebula went to Morgan and crouched down in front of her. “I’m leaving for a few days.”

The little girl put down her toys, and her eyes grew large. “Can you stay longer?”

“I’m already twenty-two seconds late, Morgan.”

She sighed and pushed the strands of hair out of her face and rested her two hands on the back of her neck. Morgan breathed out very loudly before looking at Nebula again. “I’ma miss you.”

Nebula’s lips twitched. “I will miss you, too.” The woman opened her arms up. “Good day?”

Morgan beamed and launched herself into Nebula’s arms. “Good day!”

When Morgan pulled away, Nebula told her, “Be good for Peter.”

“Yes, Auntie Blue.”

Nebula nodded at Peter. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

So, Nebula left, and Morgan pulled on Peter’s hand. He laughed and went on one knee. “What does little Miss Stark need, huh?”

“I wanna put on a show.”

“A show? What’s the show?”

“You!” Morgan giggled and pushed Peter to the center of the carpet. She hurriedly set up all her stuffed animals in front of him, patting some heads and kissing some fluffy cheeks. When the audience was set up, Morgan carefully stepped between everyone, saying “Excuse me,” to the stuffed animals she passed. Then, with her stuffed bunny in her hands, she plopped down on the carpet. “And the show begins” -she pointed at Peter- “now!”

Peter laughed and did a backflip.

Morgan applauded and mimicked a cheering crowd with soft ah’s and oh’s.

The superhero continued to do more tricks, including walking on the ceiling, flipping onto the ceiling, and getting stuck on the ceiling.

The powers Peter got from the radioactive spider weren’t always easy to control. Of course, he had the standard first few weeks and months of having to adjust to having super strength and too-quick-to-be-normal reflexes. But even after being Spider-Man for a few years, he still had a bit of trouble from time to time.

For example, when Peter felt tense, nervous, anxious, or all three at once, then he had a tendency to stick to whatever he touched.

So, when Peter’s mind, for it was always bustling around thinking things he honestly shouldn’t be thinking, thought back to the color orange and how orange the planet Titan was and how the sand slipped beneath his feet. How Dr. Strange’s yellow-orange magic transported him over and over so he could kick Thanos in the face. How he almost took the glove off, and if he had just pulled a little harder, maybe, just maybe, everything-

“Peter?”

“Everything’s fine, Morgan!” He shook his head and smiled at the little girl. “I’m ok.” Peter tugged at his own feet. “Just nerves from, uh, performing. I’m fine!”

“I’m gonna get blankets!”

“Morgan, no. Please, Morgan, stay here.” Being alone wasn’t going to help. Still, he didn’t want to scare her. After all, he promised Nebula that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. “Uh, I can’t get unstuck and watch over your friends at the same time, right?”

Morgan tilted her head, and Peter could see in her eyes that she knew something was wrong. Something unpleasant settled in his chest. It wasn’t her fault that she was more intuitive than most five-year-olds. It was his for still being so hung up on the snap.

Peter gulped down his guilt. He couldn’t deal with that later. In that moment, he needed to get off the ceiling. Getting off the ceiling will make Morgan stay with him. Then, he can take care of her for the rest of the day and not think about horrible things. So, he kept on trying to pry his feet off the wall. He breathed in, breathed out, and pulled. And nothing. He did it a second time. Breathe in, out, pull. In, out, pull

Gods, what was wrong with him? He just needed to take care of a five-year-old kid. It wasn’t like she was a hard kid to take care of. Morgan was sweet and kind. He shouldn’t have any problems, but there he was stuck on the ceiling and-

Where did Morgan’s toys go?

Peter blinked. There was an entire audience of twenty or so stuffed toys watching him just a minute ago.

The little girl had at least six of them bunched up in her arms. One fell as she tried to maneuver her way somewhere.

“Wha- Morgan, what are you doing?”

“I’m making a safe landing place.” She dropped the toys onto the carpeted floor right beneath Peter where all the others were waiting. Since there were no more stuffed animals around to volunteer to be part of the cute and fluffy landing cushion, she grabbed the pillows from the couch. “So, you don’t have to rush.” She smiled up at him. “It’s ok. You can fall anytime.” She pointed at the stuffed animals she cherished. “It’s safe!”

Peter sighed. “Morgan, what about your friends?”

“Well, you’re my brother.” She sat down, criss-cross applesauce, in front of him and her stuffed animal pyramid. With a bright, innocent smile, she added, “I care about you more.”

Peter’s heart swelled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He already knew Morgan was one of the best things in his life, but that just solidified her place in his heart. Morgan Stark’s brother. It’s just as good a title as Avenger.

Morgan brushed her hair out of her face. “You’re safe here.”

Peter tilted his head. “I know.”

“I know, too.” She shrugged. “Sometimes people need to be reminded though.” Before Peter could ask, Morgan continued, “Cause Daddy has nightmares a lot. Mommy, too, so sometimes when they’re scared, people tell them they’re safe. Because they forgot.” Just as quickly as the girl had slipped into a troubling and heavy topic, she slipped into a happier one. “But sometimes, I get to save them!”

“Save them?” Peter laughed. “Can you tell me the story?”

“Please!”

“Please, tell me the story?”

She nodded. “Daddy was talking to Uncle Steve outside. Mommy kept saying I should” -she paused to rub the carpet, curious about how it felt against her hands- “that I should play inside, but Daddy looked really mad, so I kept” -hair got caught in her mouth, so she brushed her hair back again- “kept on trying to go outside. So, I went outside-”

“Aha!” Peter beamed and showed off his unstuck right foot. “I’m good!”

“Fall!” Morgan commanded with a giggle.

Peter looked at her sternly. “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“But I built it!” She pointed at her stuffed animal cushion.

“Please.”

“Please, fall!”

Peter smiled at her, and Morgan chanted, “Fall! Fall! Fall!”

And in true Spider-Man fashion, Peter flipped off the ceiling and right into the pile of toys and couch cushions.

His little sister gasped at the explosion of toys. She picked up two that flew out and promptly jumped in with a stuffed Hulk in one hand and an alpaca plushie in the other.

Peter laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Got you! I got ya, Morgan!”

“No-o-o,” she laughed as she tried to scramble out of her brother’s grasp. “Peter!”

“Still got you!” He hugged her tightly.

“Wait!” she whined. She patted his face, mindlessly trying to find a button on Peter that would make him stop tickling her. “I didn’t finish my story. Can I finish it?”

“Oh yeah. Of course, of course.” Peter held Morgan so she could sit in his lap. Then, he arranged the animals around them so they stood up properly as if listening to a speech. Those he couldn’t reach by hand, he webbed and directed so they did. After all the animals were listening, he nodded. “Ok, so you went outside. Then what happened?”

“Well, Mommy told me to go outside so that I can save Daddy. So, I did!” Morgan nodded. “I went outside, and daddy came back inside, because the house is safe.” The little girl paid attention to her Hulk toy, moving the arms up and down.

“Is he smashing something?” Peter asked. He grabbed the pegasus toy. “I think he needs a ride.”

Instead of agreeing, Morgan gasped. “I can show you!”

“Show me what?”

“The house!”

He smiled. “Which part?”

“No-o, not like that.” She tilted her head so far to the side that her balance almost faltered. Peter made sure it didn’t by holding little Morgan in place. She continued, “no, the day I saved Dad! Tha house saved it.”

“Saved it?”

“Mhm.” She got off of Peter’s lap, the pegasus, Hulk, and alpaca forgotten. In a confident voice, she asked, “Friday, when did Uncle Steve visit?”

“Steve Rogers last visited a month and two weeks ago with his husband and daughter.”

“No, I don’t want that one.” Morgan rocked back and forth. “The one where I saved Daddy. When Uncle Steve wasn’t nice.”

Friday was silent for a few seconds. “Are you referring to the day Mr. Stark invented time travel?”

That caught Peter’s attention. Of course he knew Tony was one of the co-inventors of time travel, but he didn’t know any details.

“Peter, what does referring mean?”

“Oh, uh,” Peter gulped, “referring means talking about, Morgan.”

“Oh.” She turned back to the wall. “Can you show that day? When Uncle Steve was outside?”

“Of course, Morgan.” Soft blue lights scanned the house from the ceiling to the floor. As the lights engulfed the house, Morgan grabbed Peter’s hand, said, “Come on,” and led him to the porch. Just before Peter left the house, he spotted a hologram of Ms. Potts holding a slightly younger Morgan by the couch.

On the porch, the lights were there, and just as Morgan had described, a hologram of Mr. Stark was sitting down, his face tight and his jaw clenched. His fingers were also twitching every so often. Whoever was with him was lucky he didn’t have the suit.

Then, Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers were standing before him. Mr. Lang, Ant-Man, nice guy, was sitting next to him. Made sense to Peter. Mr. Lang was another co-creator of time travel.

Then, the sound came on.

“-your plan to save the universe is based on the Back to the Future?”

Scott scoffed. His eyes wandered and tried to see if a shred of confidence appeared so he could grab onto it and be at least a little confident in his answer. None did, because his “No” was shakey at best.

Tony leaned forward and nodded. “Good. You had me worried there cause that notion,” his voice sharpened, “That’s not how quantum physics works.”

Ms. Romanoff spoke up, “Tony.”

The two met eyes, and Tony almost deflated. Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Stark had a sibling-like relationship. At least, that’s how Peter saw it. They always ended up on the same side, no matter what, no matter how. They were loyal to each other, and when they weren’t, it was under drastic circumstances. This must’ve been one of those moments.

She tried, “We have to take a stand.”

In Mr. Stark’s holograms, Peter could see that the sympathy and care that he held for Ms. Romanoff was disregarded. She had hit a nerve. “We did stand,” he stated, his eyes resting on Mr. Rogers. “And yet here we are.”

Captain America, or well, the first Captain America, averted his gaze and stared at the house, but everyone knew he wasn’t admiring the architecture.

Mr. Lang tried, “I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife. A daughter.” He took a deep breath. “But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now, we have a chance to bring her back, to bring everyone back! And you’re telling me that you won’t even-”

“That’s right, Scott.” Mr. Stark smiled, and if you didn’t know him that well, you’d think he was being cocky. That look, that practiced-and-perfected smirk, says I don’t care about the world or you, I only care about my wife and daughter. But Peter knew better. Even Morgan knew better. Their father figure was putting up his walls again, hiding something. Morgan wasn’t sure why or what he was hiding. She was intuitive, but she was still five. Peter, however, he understood. Mr. Stark didn’t want to entertain the thought because he didn’t want to give himself unwarranted hope. His walls were there to hide the grief and pain, and he couldn’t take a chance knowing that there was no chance for a positive outcome.

“I won’t even.” Mr. Stark shrugged. “I can’t.”

The hologram door opened, passing right through Peter and Morgan, and a tinier Morgan appeared. She went straight for her dad. “Mommy told me to come and save you.”

Mr. Stark’s walls fell, just enough to let his daughter in. He held her close. “Good job. I’m saved.” He smiled and tucked his head into her neck. The walls came back up, shielding him and his daughter from anything and everything. With a sigh, Mr. Stark stood up and admitted, “I wish you had come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly happy to see you guys. Table’s set for six.”

Mr. Rogers grabbed Mr. Stark’s arm, and he stopped.

“Tony, I get it. And I’m happy for you. I really am.” He leaned in close, desperate to convince his former friend of their endeavor. “But this is a second chance.”

Mr. Stark only smiled. “I got my second chance right here, Cap. Can’t roll the dice on it.” He held onto his daughter even tighter, as if just talking about time travel more would take her away from him. He turned to the rest of them. “If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” And just like that, Mr. Stark carried Morgan back inside.

“Thanks, Friday,” Peter said.

The holograms disappeared. “Anytime, Peter.”

The teenager gulped. He never realized that Mr. Stark was so hesitant about time travel. He understood why. Morgan was amazing, and according to what he just saw, when time travel first came up, the idea wasn’t fully developed. It sounded insane and impossible, so of course, if someone came to Mr. Stark with that they’d be shut down on the spot.

Still, Peter couldn’t help but wonder.

“Why don’t we go inside, huh, Morgan?”

“Pete-er,” she whined.

He laughed and sat on the porch. “Come on. We can play princess?”

“No, I don’t wanna play princess.”

“Ok, what about CEO?”

She shook her head.

“General?”

“Nuh-uh.”

He laughed. “What do you wanna be?”

Morgan hummed. “I wanna be a unicorn doctor.”

“Hm.” He clicked his tongue. “I got a better idea.”

“What?”

“Unicorn and pegasus doctor.”

Morgan’s face lit up. “Yeah!

So then, Peter whisked her inside the house and played unicorn and pegasus doctor with her. It was full of rainbow nail polish and headbands with ribbons and fake syringes and hiding Mr. Stark’s tools from Morgan when she needed more things to use during her operations.

Soon enough, the little girl yawned three times. It was near nap time. Peter tucked her in bed, with her pegasus by her side, and as she dozed off, she whispered, “I love you tons.”

“3000, Morgan?”

She nodded and yawned again. “3000, big brother.” She smiled, and her eyes drooped until they were closed. Peter’s heart swelled. Yeah, she was a great sister. He brushed her hair and gently pulled the ribbons out of her hair.

When he was sure she was fast asleep, he left the door a tad open and paced in the hallway.

Would it be an invasion of privacy to ask? Friday must record most things that go on in the house, probably picks up on intonations, yelling, accelerated or slowed heartbeats, etc. Mr. Stark did have plans for that before the snap. That must mean Friday recorded when time travel, as in actual time travel, was invented. Sure, Mr. Lang and Dr. Banner helped invent it, but even the two of them said Tony found the “key” to time travel.

Peter would be able to witness it. Right in front of him!

Maybe he shouldn’t ask Friday.

Wait… Ask Friday. Peter looked at the ceiling and whispered, “Friday, do you think Mr. Stark would mind if I look through your holograms?”

“Based on his previous conversations with you, there’s an eighty-six percent chance he won’t get mad at you.”

He sighed. “Well, what’s the chances of him being ok with me seeing the day time travel was invented?”

“I have calculated a ninety-two percent chance that he won’t be mad at you for accessing the holograms on that day. Would you like me to pull them up?”

Peter pursed his lips. It would technically be a learning opportunity. A bit of an invasion of privacy, but didn’t he already do that when Morgan… No, that couldn’t count. Morgan is Tony’s daughter. Of course, she could have access.

Peter gulped. “Uh, just the moment he discovered time travel. First successful trial, maybe?”

“Of course. I suggest going to Mr. Stark’s office.”

“Right.” Peter cleared his throat. “Thank you, Friday.” He peeked into Morgan’s room, just to make sure she was still sleeping, safe and sound. After checking for the third time, because did he really see her or was that his imagination, he rushed down the stairs to Mr. Stark’s office. The blue lights had just reached the floor, and there, in front of him, was Mr. Stark.

The genius’s hands were frozen in the air, manipulating the hologram in front of them, an inverted mobius strip if Peter remembered correctly. “Ok, Friday,” Peter said. Now or never. “Play the hologram.”

“Give me” -Mr. Stark pointed- “that eigenvalue. That particle, and a spectral decomp.” He sighed. “That’ll take a second.” he picked up his drink, and even though Mr. Stark didn’t consume alcohol at that time, the way he drank from his organic juice reminded Peter of movie characters who carelessly drank a swig of beer or alcohol or whatever they called it.

“Just a moment,” Friday said.

Tony let out a soft, “Ah,” shook his head, and didn’t even bother looking at the running simulation.

Peter did, though. And he saw the for loop go on and on for thousands and thousands of times in seconds. Each one calculating a supposed success or failure. It flashed on the screen. Success. Success. Success. Success. Succes.

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just gonna,” Tony trailed off, and he eyed his model. He never paid attention to the blinking light of Success on the side of the screen, but he did watch as the model transformed and ran itself.

“Model rendered.”

There it was. Inverted mobius, successful time travel simulation. With a 99.987 success rate. Out of ten thousand simulations, 99,987 of them were successful.

Mr. Stark froze, just for a second, and fell right back into his chair. Shocked and confused, he stared at the model again, his eyes flickering to the list of successes the model calculated, its success rate, the specifics of the most successful and efficient model, and you could see the gears in Mr. Stark’s head as he pieced it together.

Because maybe he made a mistake, and this model was useless. Maybe Friday miscalculated, and this model was useless. Maybe he was hallucinating because of alcohol withdrawal, and this model was useless. But no, the calculations in Mr. Stark’s head came out the same. He didn’t make a mistake. Friday didn’t make a mistake. And he hadn’t experienced hallucinations in years.

Mr. Stark breathed out, another piece of evidence that reassured him. He wasn’t dreaming. He was breathing. He was awake. This was real. He slapped a hand over his mouth and double-checked his calculations.

Still correct.

Time travel had been invented.

Mr. Stark threw his hands out. “Shit!”

“Shit.”

Peter had to laugh. Because there was Morgan, once again, being her own little hero. Everyone knew that Tony Stark needed someone to ground him sometimes, and his daughter was the best one for the job.

Mr. Stark turned around in his chair and playfully shushed his daughter. “What are you doing up, Little Miss?”

Peter coughed. “Friday, turn it off.” He promised himself, nothing too personal. Just research and intellectual purposes.

“Shit,” little Morgan repeated.

“Friday.”

“Right away, Peter.” The holograms disappeared.

Peter stared at where the first successful model of time travel was rendered, and he squealed. “I can’t believe I saw how time travel was made!” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair. “That was, so awesome. Especially accounting for the fact that that was the, what, the one-thousandth model?”

“Actually, it was the 3247th model.”

“My god, that’s amazing. I can’t believe I just saw Mr. Stark invent time travel.” He giggled. “I just saw Mr. Stark invent time travel!”

“Would you like to see related memories?”

Peter blinked. “Related? To time travel?”

“Indeed. I have recorded several moments during that day that may relate to Tony’s invention of time travel.” The lights appeared again, and a hologram materialized in the kitchen. Peter followed Friday and asked, “What’s this hologram for?”

“This is a memory I recorded specifically because Tony’s heart rate rose exponentially during this time of day. After a few minutes and a lot of pacing, he retreated into his office to render the first, successful model of time travel.”

As the hologram sharpened, showing Mr. Stark in the middle of washing dishes, Peter inhaled through his teeth. “I don’t know. I really shouldn’t be looking through these.”

“You were looking at the first successful model’s creation for intellectual purposes. Is that correct, Peter?”

“Yes.”

“From my calculations, there is a ninety-seven point five eight percent chance that this is the moment Tony decided to try inventing time travel. If that is true, it would be better for your education purposes to see what motivates an inventor.”

The boy gritted his teeth. He really wanted to see it. It was like going back in time to see Archimedes exclaim, “Eureka!” for the first time. That, and Peter had never seen Tony wash the dishes before. “What are the chances Mr. Stark is ok with me seeing this?”

“Ninety-nine point nine percent. Should I play the hologram?”

“Ninety-nine?” Peter asked.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Huh.” Peter crossed his arms. “Ok, but we’re turning it off after this one, ok? No more memories or holograms for me. Not today.”

“Of course, Peter.”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever it was. Maybe it was Pepper who convinced him to try it. Maybe Happy had called him. Or even Morgan. She could’ve asked about Mr. Rogers and that could’ve made Mr. Stark want to invent time travel.

“Ok,” Peter said. “For… intellectual purposes. Play it, Friday.”

The sound of water hitting porcelain filled the room. Tony was washing a dish in the sink. However, his mind must’ve been occupied, thoughts of time travel or the Avengers maybe, because he forgot to turn the water off. So, water sprayed on the shelves, wetting clean, dry glasses, some decorative pots, and two picture frames.

Peter looked at the shelves. A picture of a smaller Tony, maybe when he was ten or so, at a science conference or fair. Behind him were three people. His mother was crouched down next to him, holding him tightly. Peter vaguely recognized the other woman. He’d seen her pictures at Shield. She had brown curls, and her smile, though faint, was filled with pride. Then, there was a man next to her, and Peter knew who that was immediately. Edwin Jarvis. The man behind the first AI and part of Vision.

Peter smiled. It was nice to know that Mr. Stark had amazing parental figures in his life. Out of everyone, he deserved it. Just as Peter was going to examine the second picture, Mr. Stark’s hologram reached through him and grabbed it, drying the wet picture frame with a towel.

“Tony’s heart rate reached its peak here,” Friday stated.

“Here?” Even though Mr. Stark was just a hologram, Peter scrambled to look over the taller man’s shoulder without disturbing the image. “Wait, what was the picture of?” Pepper? Morgan? Happy? Rhodes? Maybe Vision? A group picture of the Avengers? Unable to see it past Tony’s hologram, Peter whined, “Wait, Friday, pause the hologram.”

“Of course, Peter.”

The hologram paused. Mr. Stark was holding up the picture frame, frozen.

Peter let out a sigh of relief. He tiptoed around Mr. Stark and looked at the picture.

“Wait.” He blinked and rubbed his eyes. However, it was the same picture he saw before. But, how could it be? He pinched himself, but no, he was awake. Peter rubbed his eyes again. The picture remained.

The teenage boy tilted his head and let out a breath. “How-” He gulped. “That’s me? How is that me?”

“Tony and you took pictures when you confided in him that people didn’t believe-”

“No, uh, Friday, I know when the picture was taken.” He scoffed. “But, why would, I don’t, why would a picture of me convince Mr. Stark to try time travel?” Peter shrugged. “I just-”

“I do believe it’s because Tony cares about you.”

“I know he does,” Peter said. “But I didn’t think-” Peter huffed and crossed his arms. “Wow. I just...” He bowed his head and looked at the picture again, just to make sure. He cared about Mr. Stark. Of course, he did. But that was because life or the universe or what-have-you took his father and his uncle away from him. He was a boy who wanted a dad, another role model to look up to, so when Tony found him way back when, he knew he was going to look up to Tony just like he looked up to his father and his uncle.

But, to think Mr. Stark thought of his as a son? As someone to care for, and maybe fight for? That was almost unthinkable. Mr. Stark is a certified genius, graduated from MIT, a superhero, a former CEO, a proud husband, and a loving father to his daughter. Why would he even bother caring about some kid from Queens?

Peter didn’t realize he was crying until something wet hit his hand. He sniffed and tried to take deep breaths.

“Hey, kid.”

Friday shut off the holograms.

“Is Morgan down for her nap?”

Peter held his breath. Mr. Stark had just come back home.

Without another thought, he hugged him.

“Woah, Peter? Hey, what’s going on?”

Peter only let out a small whine and buried his head deeper into Tony’s embrace.

Tony dropped everything and wrapped his arms around his kid. “Hey, it’s ok. You’re ok.” He tentatively tucked Peter’s head under his chin and held him close. He inhaled slowly and steadily. “You’re ok,” Tony repeated. “I’m right here.” He patted Peter’s back.

With a nod at the stair, Friday understood and typed a message in the air. Morgan Stark is napping in her bedroom. Would you like me to send a camera up there?

Tony shook his head. He was good. His daughter was safe and sound and in bed, and Peter was just having a bit of a crying spell. But he was going to be ok. Everything was going to be ok. Tony closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and hugged Peter even tighter. “You’re good, kid.”

Peter nodded. He pulled away and sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Tony asked. Morgan was fine, so that means something in the house could’ve broken. Wasn’t that big of a deal. He could always replace it. “Kid, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, I do.” He sniffed. “I looked at the holograms, and I saw some pictures.” His lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

Tony tilted his head. “Hey, it’s ok.” Tony scanned the room, and he took a seat so he could see Peter, eye to eye. “Why are you sorry about that?”

“I invaded your privacy.”

Tony almost laughed. Instead, he just smiled. “Pete, kid, that’s ok. You didn’t invade my privacy.” He scoffed. “You really think Friday allows just anyone to access the holograms?”

Peter wiped his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Tony rubbed Peter’s shoulders. “Happy would kill me if he could see all of them. Security breaches everywhere.” He smiled. “You got nothing to worry about. And you can look at any holograms you want, ok?”

Peter nodded.

“Ok, Peter?”

“Ok.”

“There we go.” Tony sighed. “Now, let’s wipe those tears, ok?” He reached over the table to grab a tissue and handed it to Peter. “Your aunt’s gonna have my head is she knows you cried.”

Peter laughed. He blew his nose, and when it was obvious he needed more tissues, Tony grabbed the entire box and gave it to Peter. “Feeling better, kid?”

“Mhm.” Peter wiped his eyes and blew his nose again.

“Cool.” Tony slapped his thighs and got up. “So, tell me, how was my other kid today?”

“Great.” Peter smiled. “She actually helped me. When I got stuck to the ceiling.”

“Stuck?” Tony poured Peter a glass of water. “Feeling ok today?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just, you know, anxiety.”

“Been there.” He put the glass down in front of Peter. “She helped you?”

The boy giggled. “She made a pile of stuffed animals for me to land on.”

Tony laughed. “Now, you’re really part of the family. It’s official. Morgan never lets anyone touch those things.”

“Yeah.” Peter gulped down some water and sighed. His throat definitely felt a lot better. “Actually,” he blushed a little, “uh, Morgan, she called me, while I was stuck, she called me her brother?” He lifted the glass to his lips again.

Tony nodded. “Well, she asked for a brother a few years back.” The genius went to the sink and picked up a sponge. “Told her about you.” He started to scrub the dishes. “So it makes sense.”

Peter sputtered. “You what?”

Tony laughed. “You’ve gotta stop being surprised.” He shrugged. “You’re family, Pete. You and your Aunt May. Always welcome here.” Tony smiled at Peter, and the boy couldn’t have been happier.

He and his aunt were always family. But expanding it? It didn’t sound bad. Amazing even. Peter sipped his water again. Mr. Stark considers him family. He’s a part of the Stark family. If you had told ten-year-old Peter this, he probably would’ve fainted. In fact, Peter was feeling faint in that moment.

Still, he gulped down his excitement and managed to say one word. “Cool.” His voice cracked.

Tony suppressed his giggle and nodded. “Yeah. Definitely cool.”

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