#should you thank me anyway because this pretty people appeared on your dash for no reason? maybe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snackhobi · 4 years ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

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

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

“Was that the weekly special?”

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

“Would you recommend it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.

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

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

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

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

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

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

You are the worst.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, oh why, oh why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s dyed his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

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

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

And then Yoongi laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Your heart aches.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Duly noted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he spots you standing there.

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

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

Yoongi stares at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand.

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?”

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say.

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #houseofddaeng #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts #yoongi au #bts au #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #PLEASE feel free to message me with any typos or whatever and I'll get on those when I have a chance

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dialovers-translations · 2 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Carla Route ー Chapter 3

ー The scene starts in the guest room at Bernstein Castle

*Dingー Dongー*

Yui: ーー Aah, it’s already this late...?

*Thud*

Yui: ( I told myself to go to sleep early, but I just couldn’t seem to fall asleep and now I just feel out of iーー )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: Eh!?

Carla-san is gone!?

( ...Where did he go!? )

ー Yui dashes out of the room before the scene shifts to the balcony

Yui: ...He’s not here...

( Don’t tell me he’s lying somewhere passed out on the floor as a result of the pretification... )

*Creaaak*

Yui: !?

Butler: Oh dear. Good morning. You have already woken up?

Yui: Excuse me! Where is Carla-san...?

Butler: Aah. If you are looking for Carla-sama, he left the castle quite some time ago.

Yui: I see...Haah...He should have just woken me up...

Butler: Actually, he explicitly told me to make sure you get a good night’s rest because you should be exhausted after everything...

Yui: I see...Did he tell you where he was headed?

Butler: I do not know the exact location...However, he got on one of the goldola’s so I assume he went towards the town

Yui: Okay. Thank you very much.

( I’ll follow suit as well. I’m sure he went to look for the ingredients for the antidote, right? )

Butler: Are you heading out?

Yui: Yes. I’ll get going!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Glimmer Main Street

Yui: ( It’s incredibly crowded again today. It will be tricky to find Carla-sama amongst all these people... )

( In which case...I suppose I’ll hit up Aji-san’s store first. )

( Carla-san might be dropping by there as well. )

ー The scene shifts to Reine de Aji’s store

*Knock knock*

*Thud*

Yui: Good morning.

Reine de Aji: Oh dear, that took you long enough.

Yui: ーー Which means, could it be...?

Reine de Aji: Your companion has been gathering all of the needed ingredients and dropped some off already. I’m pretty sure he should be somewhere out on the street right now.

Seems like it’s taking him quite some time, so why don’t you go lend him a hand?

Yui: Gotcha!

( Guess I’ll head towards the main street then. )

ー The scene shifts back to Glimmer Main Street

Yui: ( He should be somewhere around here but... )

ー The crowd grows restless

Yui: Hm? ...What’s that? Why have all those people gathered...?

Carla: ーー Have I not made myself clear enough yet? I have nothing to do with this.

Yui: ...!! This voice, it’s Carla-san!

ー Yui runs up to the crowd

Yui: Carla-san!?

Carla: ーー Yui!?

Yui: ...Where did all these people come from...?

Carla: Well...

Male Vampire F: ーー Ah! Are you perhaps the wife of this Founder?

Yui: W-Wife...? N-No, I’m noーー

Male Vampire F: Then would you please put in a good word for us?

Female Vampire G: We are begging you!

Yui: N-No, like I said, I’mーー

Male Vampire G: Ooh, almighty Founder...Noble First Blood! Please guide us the way!

Yui: ...!? T-This is...

Carla: They are purists.

Yui: Eh!?

Carla: It appears that they caught on after yesterday’s happening at the Mouth of Zartan...

I found myself in a pinch, unable to continue looking for the antidote’s ingredients because these people are simply too persistent.

Carla: Yes.

Yui: And you couldn’t simply...tell them off?

Carla: Yes. Rather than chasing them away, it appears to have the opposite effect.

Yui: O-Oh dear...

Male Vampire G: Dear Founder!

Male Vampire F: Our lord and savior~!!

Female Vampire G: Oh, almighty!!

Carla: Silence.

Che...At this point, I might as well eradicate them all at once.

Yui: ( ...At this rate, he’ll...!! )

*Rustle*

Carla: Why would you suddenly grab my handーー

Yui: Carla-san, let’s run!

ー Yui drags him away

Male Vampire G: Ah! Dear Founder! Please wait!

Female Vampire G: Wait, pleaseー!!

Yui: ...!!

( ...I’m sure we could get them to understand if we simply sat down to talk but... )

( If I recall correctly, Carla-san has never been fond of Purists, has he...? )

( Anyway, right now we need to get away from here! )

ー The scene shifts to the Underground

Yui: Haah, haah...

Carla: Seems like we lost them somehow.

Yui: Where on earth are we...?

Carla: ...It appears to be an underground passage.

Yui: ...Um, Carla-san. How come you dislike those people so much?

Carla: They will treat me as some kind of diety and come to me to seek advice.

While I may a Founder, I am not their God.

There is honestly nothing more infuriating than being misunderstood like that...

Yui: W-Well...I can only assume that in their eyes, you are like a divine being...

Carla: Haah...

Yui: ( It’s honestly a little funny to try and imagine Carla-san patiently listening to those people’s struggles and stories... )

( But it’s true that we simply don’t have the time for that now. )

Um, for now, how many ingredients do we still need?

I’ll go collect them in your place and...

Carla: Do not worry. I have them all gathered.

Yui: Ah, so you were on your way back to Aji-san’s store then?

Carla: Exactly. I got surrounded by those people on the way back and found myself stuck in place.

Yui: I see...So that’s what happened.

...Anyway, we better hurry back to her shop.

Carla: Without having that lot find us.

Yui: Hmー ...What should we do...?

Selection

→ Make him wear a mask (☾)

Yui: How about you try to wear a mask of some sorts? I just happen to carryーー

*Rustle*

Yui: This nifty thing with me!

Carla: ...Why are you walking around with that?

Yui: I got it for free when I bought some snacks at one of the vendors yesterday. I hadn’t taken it out of my pocket yet so...

Why don’t you...try it on?

Carla: ...

Yui: ( Uu...He’s mad... )

I’m sorry...I thought it was a good idea...

Carla: ...

Yui: ( It wasn’t my intention, but I suppose I took my joke a little too far. )

→ Why don’t you just disguise yourself as a woman?

Yui: ーー Why not just disguise yourself as a woman? You can swap clothes with me and...

Carla: You are...making fun of the situation, aren’t you?

Yui: N-No! Not at all!

( I just kind of wanted to see what it’d look like. )

Yui: ...Which means we probably have no other choice but to take as many back alleys as we caーー

Carla: ...!

*Rustle*

Yui: Eh?

Carla: ...! Oi, come with me for a second!

*Thud*

Yui: ...!? What’s wroーー Mgh...!!

Carla: Quiet.

Yui: ( C-Could it be... )

Male Vampire G: ーー Dear Founder~~~! Oh, dear Founder!! Please show yourself!

Female Vampire G: Please show us the light! Guide us!!

ー They run past them

Carla: ーー They left?

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: Pwah...Y-You didn’t have to cover my mouth...

Carla: If not, they would have noticed us.

More importantly, this is our chance. Let us go.

Yui: Yes...!!

ー The scene shifts to Reine de Aji’s store

*Thud*

Reine de Aji: ...!? You startled me...Why the hurry?

Yui: Hahaha...

Carla: ...We have our reasons...More importantly, I gathered all missing ingredients.

*Thud*

Reine de Aji: Oh! I’ve been waiting!

*Rustle rustle*

Reine de Aji: ーー Yup, seems like you’ve got everything here. Nice work.

While they may not be rare goods, the list was quite long so I can imagine it took quite a bit of time and effort to collect everything?

Carla: No, not at all. I barely had to do anything.

Yui: Eh? Is that so?

Carla: Yes.

Yui: Could it be...Did those Purists help you out?

Carla: They stole my memo when I never even asked them anything.

Yui: I see...Which means they were asking you for advice...in return for their help?

Carla: I never asked for their aid though.

Yui: ...I mean, that’s true but...

( Now that I know the full story, I feel as if it wouldn’t have heard to listen to them at least... )

Reine de Aji: ーー Oh well, whatever. I’ll jump straight into making the medicine. First I need to get everything ready in the back.

I don’t want you guys to touch any of my goods, so you don’t need to help. Just behave and wait here, okay?

ー Aji leaves to the backroom of the store

Yui: Phew I guess that just leaves waiting, huh?

Carla: Yes.

Yui: How do you feel? The petrification...

Carla: Unfortunately, it is still progressing.

Yui: Haah...I hope the antidote is ready soon.

Carla: More importantly, how do you feel? How is the Kleinod holding up?

Yui: ...Honestly, I had completely forgotten about my own situation until you brought it up. That just proves I feel fine.

Carla: I see.

Yui: Did you perhaps head out by yourself this morning...because you were trying to look out for me?

Carla: Yes. Besides, I am the one who brought this upon myself. It is the result of my own actions.

Yui: Don’t say that...I’m your...lover, remember? Please don’t treat me like a stranger.

Carla: ...

Yui: Don’t you remember what I said yesterday? That I refuse to let you turn to stone.

I said that because...I suddenly understood very well how you have felt all this time.

Carla: What do you mean?

Yui: ーー That you might pass away before me.

Ever since this happened to you, I understood for the first time,

just how much you must have struggled with that feelings up till now.

Carla: ...

Yui: I also understand now...Why you tried to prompted me to choose a life as an immortal.

That’s why I wanted to try everything within my power. For your sake.

So please don’t talk as if you got me involved in this against my will, okay?

Carla: Yui...

ー He embraces her

*Rustle*

Carla: Please understand this. What happened this time...hurts my pride as a man.

I made you make a worried expression after all.

Yui: Carla-san...

Carla: ーー I want to be a good man for you. Is that a selfish wish?

Yui: ...

Carla: I do not want to embarrass myself in front of you. Exactly because I love you.

ーー Therefore.

*THUD*

Male Vampire G: ーー So this is where you’ve been!!

Yui: ...!?

Female Vampire G: We finally found you!

Carla: ...You lot need to learn when to stop!

*THUD*

Yui: C-Carla-san, please calm down!

ー The crowd grows restless again

Yui: ( I...I feel as if there’s even more people than before... )

Carla: Do you want me to turn you to ashes!? Quiet down!

*Woosh*

Male Vampire G: I couldn’t wish for anything more!

Female Vampire G: Please eradicate me right now!

Carla: ...!

Yui: Carla-san, um...

Carla: ...What?

Yui: These people are the ones who collected the ingredients for you, correct?

Carla: So what?

Yui: Well, in that case, while it may be somewhat bothersome...

I don’t see a problem in listening to what they have to say...?

Carla: In that case, you can listen to them.

Yui: I can’t fulfill that role. They’re Purists, so what is important to them is that you listen to their story.

Male Vampire G: Dear Founder...Please show us the light...

Male Vampire F: We are begging you!

Carla: ...

Yui: I mean, they want it so badly...

Carla: ...

Yui: Carla-san?

Carla: ...I will only listen to them. You better not believe I will actually give them advice.

ーー Are you lot fine with that?

Male Vampire G: Y-Yes! Of course...Simply having you listen to us is already more than we could ever ask for!

Carla: Good grief. Well then...I will listen to you one by one. Please try and get straight to the point, understood?

Male Vampire F: Yes!!

Yui: ( Thank god. Everyone looks so happy. )

ーー Well then, please form a line over here. There’s plenty of time for everyone, so please stay calm.

Carla: Haah...Why do I have to bother with this...?

Yui: Hang in there...!

Carla: ...This is your fault, remember? As your punishment...I will make sure you return the favor to me later.

Yui: Eh?

Carla: Isn’t that obvious? You are forcing me to listen to these random strangers against my will after all.

So it only makes sense you will comfort me afterwards, no?

Yui: ...That sounds kind of unreasonable...

Carla: ーー I am eagerly awaiting it, okay?

ー Carla walks towards the line

Yui: ( ...Geez, Carla-san...! )

( Hm? Those children... )

Hello. Are you girls also Purists?

Twin Vampire Child A: ...

Twin Vampire Child B: ...

ー They run away

Yui: Ah...

( They ran away...I wonder if they remembered something they have to do? )

*TIMESKIP*

Carla: ーー ...I wasted a lifetime’s worth of talking today.

Yui: Good job. I’ll set you some tea, okay?

Carla: Yes.

*Cling*

Yui: ( Even though he said he would only listen to them, in the end, he also gave them a bunch of advice. )

( But they all seemed genuinely happy. It feels good just to have someone listen to your worries after all. )

( There’s no way they wouldn’t be happy when on top of that, they even got advice from the King of Founders which they very much look up to. )

ーー Carla-san, would you like a snack with your tea as well?

Carla: Where did you get those?

Yui: The people you gave advice them left them here for us. Just look at how many there are.

Carla: Hmph. This is all I get for giving them advice? Oh well, give that here.

Yui: Of course, here you go. These are...doughnuts stuffed with domestically cultivated honey.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: There’s also these tarts made with local currants and over here we haveーー

Carla: That’s enough. I cannot eat all of these at once. You can have them.

Yui: Really? I suppose I’ll try some things as well then.

*Rustle*

Yui: Nn...This is so good...!

Carla: Heh...

Yui: ...? What’s wrong?

Carla: No, it’s nothing. Just...

Yui: ...Yes?

Carla: ーー I was just thinking about how cute you are.

Yui: ...! Carla-san...!

Carla: But it’s the truth, isn’t it?

ー Aji returns to the room

Reine de Aji: ーーOh my, no wonder I thought I could smell something sweet. Are you having a tea party?

Yui: Aji-san!! Are you done with the medicine!?

Reine de Aji: Not yet. I know I said it wouldn’t take long but...

*Rustle*

Reine de Aji: ーー It’s not that easy...There. Huh? Has anyone seen the blue bottle which was on this table?

It was here earlier. I saw it with my very own eyes so I’m positive.

Yui: A lot of people came in and out so perhaps it fell over and rolled underneath somewhere...Let me check...

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Hmー ...Nowhere to be seen... )

Carla-san, any luck over there?

*Rustle rustle*

Carla: ーー It doesn’t appear to be here either.

Reine de Aji: This is a problem. I can’t finish the medicine without it.

Yui: Eh!?

Reine de Aji: Hmー...

Yui: ...I’ll go get a replacement. Where can I buy it?

Reine de Aji: No, actually...The stuff inside that blue bottle was the one ingredient which is not easy to find.

Yui: Eeh!?

Reine de Aji: It’s the medicine’s main component. I can’t possibly make it without...

Yui: W...What should we do...?

Reine de Aji: I’m positive it was here earlier, you know? I checked this morning and I haven’t given it away to anyone.

ーー ...Give it away...Aah, now you mention it...

Just the other day, those kids dropped by and asked me if I could possibly give them the gemstone inside that blue bottle.

I refused because it’s a valuable good and not something a couple of children should have.

Carla: And where do these children live?

Reine de Aji: They’re twin girls living in the Underground.

I have no idea what they’d use it for though. But they were very persistent.

Yui: Twins...Now that you mention it, I believe I saw them here today.

Reine de Aji: Is that so? In which case, they might have just taken it with them without saying anything.

Yui: ...!

Carla: I see. So that’s whatーー Ugh...!

*Rustle rustle*

*CRUMBLE*

Yui: Carla-san...!?

*Thud*

Carla: Kuh...!

Yui: Hang in there...!

*Crumble crumble*

Carla: ...!

Yui: The petrification...!

*Rustle*

Yui: ...I-I’ll go ask those girls about the gem...

Carla: ーー Wait.

Yui: But at this rate...!

Carla: ...Don’t go. Stay here...with me.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ...!

Carla: Oi, woman...About the gemstone, please have some patience. I promise I will fix it tomorrow.

Reine de Aji: ...Gotcha.

Carla: Let us return to the castle for today...

Yui: No way...

Carla: We are talking about children, remember? We wouldn’t run into them at this hour. We would only have to come back later either way.

Yui: ...

Carla: We will be back tomorrow.

Reine de Aji: Roger. Please try and make haste.

ー They leave the store

Yui: ...

Carla: Do not look so comflicted.

Yui: I’m sorry. I can’t help but worry...And I’m also very anxious.

I know that we have no other choice but to return to the castle for now but...

Carla: ーー Trust me.

Yui: ...!

Carla: I shall not turn into stone. I promise that I will conquer this situation.

Yui: ...Carla-san.

( I shouldn’t be like this... )

( It’s obvious that Carla-san should be the most worried about this situation, even if he doesn’t directly show it. )

( Yet, I’ve been over here acting like the tragic heroine... )

...I’m sorry...

Carla: Let us head back.

Yui: Yes...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the hotel room

Carla: ーー I am tired after everything which happened today. I suppose I should head straight to bed so I am ready for tomorrow.

Yui: I promise I’ll get up early tomorrow morning...!

Carla: I shall not get my hopes up.

*Thud*

Carla: Haah, that being said...We have only focused on my issue while the case regarding your heart is far from resolved either...

Yui: You don’t have to worry about that for now. Let’s tackle these problems one by one.

Carla: Heh. You sure are carefree. However, rest assured.

...I promise that I will get your heart back. No matter what.

Yui: ...!

Carla: ーー That being said, after listening to the idiotic struggles of those Vampires...it once again made me realize...

That lot does not have it easy either.

Yui: ...Carla-san...

Carla: While it was never my intention to try and understand them, after actually listening to them, I simply had no other choice.

You take full credit for closing the gap between other species and myself.

Yui: No way...You are simply a broad-minded individual who has even shown to be capable of relating to humans.

Carla: Heh...I wonder about that?

ー He pins her down

*Thud*

Yui: Kyah...!!

*Rustle rustle*

Carla: Perhaps I am only pretending to understand you...so I can do this?

Nn...! Nn...

Yui: ...That’s not...true...

Carla: I see. It appears that you have quite a bit of faith in me. I suppose that is fine.

ーー I will simply take advantage of said trust...and pierce my fangs into your skin.

Nn...!!

Yui: ( Geez, Carla-san...You don’t have to be so embarrassed to admit your own feelings...No, I guess that’s not it. )

( I’m sure that he’s trying to...ease my nerves this way. I can tellーー )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( But I’m sure I’ll get yelled at if I were to say that so for now...I’ll just keep quiet and submit to him. )

( To his large frame and his fangs... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 2

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 4]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ SHUU]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ REIJI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ LAITO]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #4 [W/ KOU]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #carla tsukinami #lunatic parade #diabolik lovers translation #lpchapter3

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

Text

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 3

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines

Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN!!!! Y'all enjoy this now, because it's only gonna get so much more angstier soon. -Thorne

Set Three Months After PT. 2:

She didn’t have to look up to know who entered the shop, because his voice carried over the air. “Melisandre!”

Humming, she immediately plated a pastry and a hot coffee, sliding it on the counter just as he sat down. “Good morning, Wally,” she greeted, watching him take a bite. “Right on time, as always.”

He smiled, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “Morming Merisamdmur,” he replied, and she rolled her eyes with a snort.

“Jeez Wally, didn’t your mom teach you to not talk with your mouth full?”

Shrugging, he swallowed and said, “I was trying to be polite.”

“I think it’s more polite to chew with your mouth closed and speak after you swallow.”

They glared at each other before one of them cracked a smile and they fell into laughter. She tossed a napkin his way. “How’s your day going so far?”

Wally groaned and laid his head on the cool marble countertop. “I’ve got so much to do today, it’s not even funny.”

“Well, well, Wally the procrastinator is finally feeling his toes at the fire, huh?” She ignored his glare. “What do you have to do?”

“Barry needs my help with my cousins and my friends are coming over today to hangout and I haven’t bought any food or drinks for that and I have yet to even start cleaning my house.”

She giggled and reached over, patting his head sympathetically. “There, there, Wally. Everything will be alright. Why don’t you just bring your cousins over to your house and watch them while you hang out with your friends?”

“Because my cousins are annoying and I’m not subjecting my friends to that,” he countered and propped his chin on his palm. “Unless…”

She cocked a brow and waited for him to continue and he offered, “You come over with my cousins and help me watch them?”

“No.”

“What! Why?”

“Well for starters, I don’t know your friends and it would be weird for me to just show up.” She countered.

“They’ll like you though!” he cried, and his hand shot out, wrapping around hers. “Please, Melisandre!”

“Wally, I’ll just watch your cousins at my apartment and Iris can just come get them later, that’ll be easier and won’t force me to sit in a group of people who don’t know me.” He tried to speak but she tossed another napkin, hitting him in the face. “I’m watching Dawn and Don so you and your friends can hang out without being bothered, and that’s final.”

His face pinched. “You sure you can keep up with them?”

Something passed between them and she quirked a brow. “I can keep up with you, can’t I, Wally?”

Wally chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a fair point.” He glanced at her. “They would like you though.”

She ignored the comment in favor of, “Tell me about them. What are they like?”

He inhaled sharply and took a moment to think. “Donna’s strong willed, Roy’s loud, Lilith likes to get in your head, Garth is easy to annoy, and Dick’s kinda the glue that keeps us together.”

“Dick? He get that from Richard by asking nicely?”

Wally barked a laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna tell him you said that.” He nodded. “But yeah, his name is Richard Grayson, but he goes by Dick.”

Her eyes almost bulged out of her head and she was lucky that Wally was looking at his watch then.

Don’t ask. Don’t do it. Leave it alone.

But she couldn’t stop herself.

“Richard Grayson?” she feigned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Wally met her eyes. “Bruce Wayne.”

She snapped her fingers. “Right! The ward.” Wiping the counter, she added, “I heard they added a new addition to that family too. A daughter, right? Cassie? Cassidy?”

“Cassandra,” Wally corrected. “Yeah, that’s Dick’s new sister.” He put his elbows on the counter. “She’s nice, doesn’t talk a lot though.”

“The quiet one, then?”

He laughed. “Of them all.”

Don’t dig any deeper, (Y/N). Keep your fucking mouth shut and let it go.

“I always wondered what happened to that other daughter he had,” she murmured, and Wally’s face blanched like he’d witnessed a murder.

“What?”

She met his gaze. “He had another daughter. I think her name was (Y/N).”

He swallowed thickly. “He does.”

“Does? She’s still around?”

“Yeah, she’s in some Italian villa.”

“Wait really? I thought she died or something?”

“What? No! She left—” Wally snapped his mouth shut like he was about to reveal a secret, but she knew anyways. “She left and went to Europe for a mental retreat.” He finalized and she wondered if that was the story Dick told him to say if anyone asked. Or maybe it was Bruce.

“It’s been like three years now, right? You’d think she’d post something on social media.”

“The whole point of a mental retreat, Melisandre, is to get away from social media.”

Oh please, I know plenty of elite who do that shit and still post crap on their socials.

“There’s no way that girl hasn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

She scoffed. “Oh please, she’s the daughter of a multi-billionaire. There’s no way a girl that wears Gucci belts and carries Prada purses keeps herself off social media.”

Wally’s eyes narrowed like he was thinking hard about something and she internally cursed.

Oh, smooth move you dumbass.

She coughed and waved a hand. “Well, it’s all theory anyway.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah…theory.” Wally got to his feet and handed her the empty plate. “I should go ahead and get back to my place and clean up before they get here.”

“Have fun,” she smiled, and he grabbed her arm.

“Take a pic with me.”

“What? Why?”

“So, I can tell my friends about you and prove I’m not lying.” He pouted. “Pretty please, Melisandre?”

Don’t do it. Dick will know. You know he’ll know.

She smiled despite her internal thoughts. “Sure.”

Wally grinned and raised the camera where she was in the background. She threw up a peace sign and gave a cheesy grin, momentarily blinded by the flash of the camera.

She spun and filled a bag with pastries then handed it to him. “Here, so you can give even more proof.”

Wally took the bag and hopped onto the counter, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks Melisandre!” And he was dashing out the door.

You’ve ruined it all. This is going to come back to bite you in the ass. And it’s going to come quicker than you think.

She frowned and wiped down the counter again, trying to ignore her thoughts. Maybe. Just maybe, it wouldn’t.

***

Waving Barry and Iris off, she smiled as the twins climbed into the backseat of their car and the taillights signaled their departure. She closed the door behind her and glanced at the mess the two tornadoes had left. Even for the little she had in her apartment, they sure did know how to make a mess.

She sighed as she bent over to pick up one of the cushions when her doorbell rang and she stood up, confusion coming over her as she made her way to the door.

“Hello?” she asked, and a muffled voice echoed from the other side.

“Melisandre, it’s me, Wally. Can I come in?”

She opened the door, surprised to see him. “Wally? What are you doing here? I thought you were with your friends?”

“Yeah, I told them I had to do something really quickly,” he said as entered her apartment. He took a moment to examine her living room. “Man, Dawn and Don did a number here, didn’t they?”

She chuckled. “We had fun building forts.” Nudging him in the side, she added, “I don’t mind the mess.” She looked at him. “Do your friends know? About you being…you know?”

He nodded. “We’re all special in some way.”

Understatement there, Wally.

“So, why tell them you need to do something then come to me? Is everything alright?”

Busying herself with the couch cushions, she waited for him to explain, but nothing could’ve prepared her for his words.

“It will be once I get to the bottom of it…(Y/N).” She froze for a split second, but it was all he needed. “It really is you, isn’t it?”

(Y/N) stood upright and gazed at him. “When did you know?” Her voice was a lot colder than she meant for it to be.

“I had suspicion for a while, but when I showed the picture to everyone, Dick said it looked like you.”

“Really?” she laughed. “I thought I did a good job changing my appearance from three years ago.”

Wally didn’t laugh, he merely gaped at her. “Why?”

“Why what?” (Y/N) knew what he was referring to.

“Why’d you just leave?” He took a step towards her. “Do you have any idea what your family has gone through since you disappeared on them? The grief? The shame?”

She shrugged. “I explained everything in the letter I wrote my dad, Wally. There’s no reason why they should still be concerned with me.”

“They love you!” he shouted, taking her by surprise. “They love and miss you so much!”

“My family ignored me for eighteen years straight, Wally!” She yelled right back. “What was I supposed to do? Sit and pretend being forgotten was all normal?!” (Y/N) couldn’t help but shove at his chest. “I chose to leave because my next choice was taking a swan dive off Wayne Enterprises!”

His eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “I left because the only person who cared about me, was me.” She turned and fixed the final couch cushion while he watched her do so.

“They’re still looking for you, you know. Dick is always staring at his phone hoping there’s a text from Jason or Tim that they’ve found a sign of you.”

(Y/N) sighed. “If you’re trying to guilt trip me, Wally, it’s not going to work.” She shot him a glare. “I got over the fucking guilt the second the flight to Central took off. I got over the fucking guilt the night I laid in a hotel room bed curled into a ball where I cried myself to sleep. I got over the fucking guilt the moment I realized I’ve done so much better on my own than when I was there.”

She marched up to him and got in his face. “I got over the fucking guilt when I realized Barry and Iris Allen were more of a family than four brothers and dad ever were.”

They glared at each other and finally, she let out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already started a new life here and I have no plans of ever going back.”

“At a college that doesn’t have a real name. You know that’s illegal, right?”

(Y/N) scoffed. “What’re you gonna do, Wally? March into four-C and tell them Bruce Wayne’s daughter is going to school under a false name? We both know you wouldn’t.”

“I’ll tell Dick,” he suddenly shot back, and she went rigid.

“You wouldn’t dare,” (Y/N) threatened and he took a step towards her, getting nose to nose with her.

“Try me.”

They stared one another down and she said, “I think you need to leave, Wally West.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I guess I should.” He spun on his heel and marched to the door, but stopped when she questioned,

“Are you really going to tell him?”

Wally gazed at the ground for a moment then he murmured, “…No…it’s not my place to.”

(Y/N) swallowed and nodded. “Thank yo—”

“Don’t thank me, (Y/N). I’m lying to my best friend about knowing the real location of his baby sister he misses dearly.”

She looked away. “Cassandra is his baby sister now. He should focus on her.”

“You really have no idea about what they feel for you, do you, (Y/N)?” He asked, and she grunted.

“Get out, Wally.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gone,” he spat, slamming the door behind him, hard enough that it shook the walls that held the doorframe.

(Y/N) stared at the door for a few moments then cursed sharply and collapsed onto her couch, eyes directed to the ceiling. Three years down the drain in one conversation.

Way to go, (Y/N). You did a spectacular job of keeping it all under wraps.

She groaned and picked herself off the couch, not caring about the mess as she headed to bed. She’d deal with it all in the morning.

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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

Text

bands | thirteen

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, slight degradation, trouble stirring behind the scenes if you squint, yeonjun and soobin (txt) make an appearance but also as reg 18 yr olds lol

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi @jimidol @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @preciouschimine @sunniejinnie @cypheruby @cyb3rbab3 @masterlists101 @awhnamjoon @redhedhoseok @wooya1224 @taeismydeath @jikookiekosmos @un2-verse @aynsx @wearenot7withu (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"BTS' Jeon Jungkook rumored to be dating stripper from nightclub!"

"Jungkook is no longer single, ladies!"

"Jeon Jungkook is dating a stripper? Why the hell is he doing that?"

"Who the hell does she think she is? I bet she's not even pretty."

"Jungkook fell for a stripper? Out of all people? Damn, and I thought he was better than that."

Jungkook has been tired, the rumors constantly being spread day in and day out. But, it still didn't mean he was gonna say shit to prove himself to people out there. He didn't need to give anybody answers. Hell, this was strictly between you and him and that's how he wants to keep it.

Fuck every single one of you who didn't wanna be behind him and support him. Don't even think about calling yourself a fan of his if that's your mindset.

He could truly care less. He was happy and he felt ten times better than he has in a really long time. It's unfortunate how people love to stay narrow minded. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that it was so unfair for you - how they stuck to that stripper image, rather than really getting to know you beneath the surface.

But it's not like anyone else deserved to know the real you, not after all this shit. And he was gonna keep it that way, and protect you.

"Hey, don't listen to any of that shit, okay?" Jungkook says as he meets you in your car in the BigHit building garage. "None of that matters to me."

"I know, but Kook." You look at him. "Your career, BigHit literally might not even want me here and-and—"

"Then I'll make sure they understand it's not an issue, because it's really fucking not." He says, getting irritated only at the thought of the company giving him issues over you. He watches as you slightly frown, causing him to sigh and soften his own facial expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get worked up like that. It's just annoying how people are narrow-minded. This has absolutely nothing to do with you." You give him a small smile. "Come on, I'll walk you." You silently nod and hop out of your car. You follow beside him, your stomach in knots having to meet with their performance director. This meant you'd also most likely run into the rest of Bangtan.

In which happens to turn true pretty quickly.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok says loudly down the hallway as he approaches the both of you. He does nothing besides smile, curiosity definitely filling his eyes.

"This is Y/N. Y/N, Hoseok hyung." He holds out his hand for you to shake, his head tilting ever so slightly because you know he's familiar with your face. He's just trying to remember from where. Or, he has recognized you, but he's trying his hardest not to say anything.

Cause they have seen all of you, especially in that fishnet bodysuit.

"Hi! Nice to meet you! You can call me Hobi for short. Are you meeting with someone?" You nod.

"Yeah." Is all you can reply with as you shyly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Nice, goodluck!"

"Is everyone else here?" Jungkook asks, making Hobi nod.

"Yeah, but they're still running through some stuff in the dance studio. I just ran off to take a break."

"Okay." Jungkook looks at you. "Follow me, he's in one of the private studio rooms." You both part ways from Hoseok, the need to clutch onto Jungkook's arm immensely strong right now. You hold yourself off though, because even with passing a few female staff members, you catch them looking at you oddly with the way you're walking side by side with Jungkook.

Nope. Don't even think about it, Y/N. It doesn't matter.

Jungkook knocks softly on a door, the middle of it being made up of entirely frosted glass so it's difficult to see inside. Their performance director opens the door swiftly and welcomes you in with a warm smile, stepping aside to let you in.

"I've got it from here, Jungkookie. Thank you." Jungkook nods but tries to peek through the door to get one last glimpse of your face before he shuts it fully. "How are you doing, Y/N?" He sits in front of you, leaning onto his knees with his hands fully clasped together.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Good, tired." He chuckles. "Thanks for taking my call earlier and for meeting at such short notice on a weekend. I had a couple of things come up and didn't want to push things off until later." You smile.

"It's no problem."

"Jungkook tells me a lot about you."

"Does he now?" You chuckle and tilt your head to the side.

"Says you're a really good person. Super hardworking. Told me a little bit about your situation with your brother."

"Mmyeah, it's a little complicated."

"It's alright, no need to get into the details." He smiles before letting out a small sigh. "It's incredibly rare for me to hear Jungkook speak like that. In general. He's usually very closed off, doesn't like to let people in much. He really respects you, you know? Cares about you a whole lot." You slightly blush.

"I'm still getting used to it." He chuckled.

"Look, I know you've been worrying because of where you've been and all that, but I want to reassure you that none of it matters. I don't like to focus on all that. You're here as you, not her." He says, putting another pronoun to your stripper persona.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." He nods. There's a small pause before he begins to speak again.

"I could really use some help around here if you're still interested? The boys are becoming a lot for me to handle."

"Ah-uh, yeah! Of course I am." You found yourself stuttering at the sudden offer. Was this fucking real?! "But, you are aware of where me and Jungkook are at, right?" You ask, trying to be completely transparent and honest about their relationship. He nods and waves his hand out.

"As long as you keep it professional here, right?" You nod.

"Right."

"Come, let me show you around really quickly and have you formally meet the boys." You swallowed the lump in your throat. Fucking great. He definitely didn't know they've all seen your titties and pussy out during Yoongi's birthday, and now here you were - about to meet them again in this environment. Hobi was awkward enough even though he tried not to be.

Surprisingly, Jungkook wasn't waiting outside in the hallway like you thought he would be, but the tour commences and the PD is taking you around pretty quickly. You feel even more awkward and somewhat alone [even though you weren't] without Jungkook nearby, but you chug along and say your hello's to the people you're introduced to. He finally brings you into the dance studio, where there's loud ass music blasting, Jungkook, the boys and some backup dancers in front of the mirrors fooling around.

"Aye boys, come here real quick." You and Jimin lock eyes and your body suddenly gets tense. The room feels 10x hotter than it already is, especially when he slowly walks over and clenches his jaw. He is literally seeping with hate right now, maybe actually disgust, and he doesn't even try to hide it. Most of them for sure recognize you, but they seem to brush it off and give you a big wave/smile anyway.

"Last, that's Jimin - Jimin, Y/N." You give Jimin a fake smile, and the only thing his ass can reciprocate is the smallest, tight-lipped smile you have ever seen. You've never even seen your mom do that when she got mad or upset with you.

"Hi." Is all you can say.

"Sup." He looks at you before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Ooookay?" Namjoon furrows his brows as he watches Jimin walk away so rudely. "The hell was that about?"

"I knew that was Kookie's girlfriend! Maybe Jiminie remembers seeing her titties and shit too, needs to walk away before he gets his ass beat by him." Yoongi says lowly behind Namjoon.

"Yeah, like you're any better." Namjoon says, looking at Yoongi weirdly.

"I mean, we did see her practically naked." Jin says, chiming into the discussion.

"I touched her." Yoongi's mouth slightly hangs down. "I touched her."

"Go ahead, say it louder so Kookie can hear you." Jin nods sarcastically. "Go, say it!"

"No, stop." Yoongi's cheeks turn red while shaking his head and laughing. "He'll literally launch me out the window with one hand."

"Good."

"You asked for her to sit on your lap too, bro!"

"I was joking, and it's not like she did it anyway!"

"Whatever, I'm keeping my birthday deep in my memory storage."

"Clean slate for her so it should be for you too, my guy." Namjoon says as he has enough of their conversation.

You look at Jungkook who is silently standing there, looking like a big dork with a huge smile on his face and his thumbs up. You give him the tiniest nod before proceeding to follow the PD out.

"So?!" Jungkook dashes to meet you in their waiting room area, where an abnormally large picture of Jimin posing oddly hung up.

"He said he'll send me all the info and papers and stuff!" You respond excitedly as Kook hugs you and quickly swings you around.

"See, I knew it would work out!" He puts you down. "Are you gonna tell Kai?" You shook your head.

"Not today at least, it's his birthday and I don't wanna take away from that. It's his day." Jungkook smiles at you.

"Text me when you've picked him up? I should be home by then."

"Okay." You blush and back away, making Jungkook look at you with confusion. "I have to keep it professional here, duh."

"Ah I see." He chuckles. "That won't last very long."

"Jungkook." You whine.

"There's a lot of private rooms here and—"

"I'm not listening, sorry. I think Kai is suddenly calling me." You cover your ears as you begin to walk away, giving him one last smile before leaving him to the rest of rehearsals and whatever else they're doing. He laughs to himself as he waves you off, excited to get through the day so he can just spend time with you and Kai.

As the hours go on and it's about time for you to pick Kai up, you quickly stop by the store because you're a procrastinator and didn't buy Kai's birthday gift any earlier. You felt bad you weren't able to find the shoes he wanted, but you at least snagged the video game he had been talking about for a couple of days now. Before walking into the arcade, you made sure to write your birthday card and slip some more money into it before shoving it in your bag to give to him later.

"Your pretty sister is here." Yeonjun grabs Kai by the shoulder as he finishes up a game.

"Yeah, and you're too young for her."

"Age is nothing but a number. It's only like.. 6 years apart."

"Besides, she's taken, dude. Sorry." Kai snorts as he watches Yeonjun's smile fade. "You would have never had the chance."

"You're mean."

"I'm mean, or you just have really high, unrealistic expectations?" The rest of their friends laugh as they follow Kai over to you.

"Hey!" You smile at all his friends.

"Hiiiiii Y/N." They all say in unison, some waving in awe, while the others shyly dug their hands into their pockets. "Birthday boy, you all good to go? Got some good Loco Moco waiting for you."

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Happy birthday again, Kai! Get online later!" Soobin yells out.

"Yeah, yeah." He says, waving them off as he follows you out to your car.

"You guys run through the entire arcade?" Kai laughs.

"Pretty much." He sinks into his seat, legs damn near touching the glove compartment with how long he is. "I'm honestly so excited for Loco Moco. It's been years!"

"It has not been that long." You laughed.

"You're right, it's been months." Kai looks out the window. "Wait, you're passing the road to get to our go-to shop though?"

"Cause I found a better place."

"How is there a better place when that one was already supreme?!"

"Hey, trust me on this okay?" You laugh. Kai starts telling you about his day and how so many people he knew from school had been messaging him happy birthday. He truly looked his happiest today and it was all you could ask for. Though at the same time, your heart slightly sank at the fact that he'd be going off to uni soon and staying at the dorms. He was just growing up way too fast, and you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him now before he was too occupied being a college boy.

You slipped yourself past Jungkook's security, parking in the one guest spot they have in the garage that's closest to the elevator. Kai doesn't really question it and hops out anyway, his hands in his pockets as he follows you into the elevator and onto Jungkook's floor.

"You ready, kid?"

"Is this some like, Michelin Star Loco Moco restaurant?"

"Ah, I guess you could say that." You knocked on the door, hearing music playing in the background. Jungkook opens the door and Kai's eyes widen.

"Oh shit, that's Jungkook?" Kook laughs and steps aside to let you both in. "Sis why—what—how come you didn't tell me we were seeing your boyfriend? I look like a mess!" He says lowly.

"You don't!"

"Hey Kai! Happy Birthday!" Jungkook says smiling, making Kai actually blush. He's cheeks are tinted with a rosy color and he suddenly gets all shy.

"Thanks."

"Your brother's tall." Jungkook looks at him up and down.

"Looking at an 18 year old 6 footer."

"Must be nice."

"Go sit." Kai silently nods as he sits awkwardly on Kook's couch, while you go and check in on him in the kitchen.

"Is he always that shy?"

"No. Just with you, apparently. He's not even that shy around girls." You chuckle as he places a quick kiss on your head. "Need my help?" You still ask even though the plates are neatly prepared already.

"Not really." He smiles down at you. "You hungry though?"

"Starving, actually." Your eyes light up at the plates. "Ouuuuuu, yum."

"Honestly, I think this batch might be better than my first."

"Still honored to be your guinea pig." You carry a plate over to Jungkook's coffee table in the living room.

"Oh shit, that looks amazing." Kai says, slipping himself down from the couch to the floor so he could get a good whiff of the plate. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jungkook hands you the remote before walking into his room. "Pick something."

"Here, birthday boy. Help me choose."

"Let's watch Soul on Disney+." At this point, Jungkook comes out of his room with a wrapped present, his eyes locked on the TV.

"Ooh, I keep seeing this everywhere! Niceeeee." Jungkook says, smiling with Kai nodding and already digging into his plate. "By the way, this is for you." You shoot him a look as he sits on the floor by you, watching as Kai unwraps the present. Kai's eyes light up as he sees a shoebox underneath the wrapping, quickly flipping the lid open to reveal those blue Air Jordans he wanted.

"Kook?!" You say lowly, making him smile at you and gently pinch your side.

"Holy shit!" He holds out a shoe, only for him to immediately shake his head and close the box again. "Jungkook, I can't take this." Kai says.

"No, it's your birthday."

"Yeah, but isn't this expensive? You've already done so much for me and my sister, I-I don't want to—"

"Kai, it's cool. If it's one thing you can do to repay me, it's to take my present." You literally want to cry at how sweet Jungkook is being with your brother. He had been good to you, no doubt, but this was one thing you didn't expect from him at all. Quite frankly, you had forgotten you mentioned the shoes to him. The fact that he actually remembered and kept his word.

"Okay." Kai says, gently setting the box down aside before looking at Jungkook with a small smile on his face. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. Like, even with the food and everything. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome." You give him a soft smile before digging into your food while Soul was already off to a start. Kai and Jungkook devour their food together, with you following shortly behind as Jungkook brings over a small ice cream cake from his fridge for Kai to blow his candles on. After the boys had helped themselves to a good serving of the cake, they started getting hyper and pulled up Smash Bros on Kook's Nintendo Switch [as if Kai hadn't played enough games today]. It started to get intense; the boys jumping and yelling everywhere, bouncing off of the walls, with you getting pulled into the competition every now and then. Even though you knew you'd lost over and over again, you happily joined in anyway, seeing how excited your brother was - plus, it was always a bonus to hear Jungkook's loudly obnoxious, nerdy laugh.

"I WIN!"

"Hey, hey, hey. I let you win because it's your birthday." Jungkook said, making Kai laugh as he crashed to the floor.

"Sure." Kai huffed and puffed. "Crap, I'm tired. What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. We should start heading out, bubba." You patted Kai's chest gently.

"What? No, it's late. Why don't you two just stay here?" You suddenly remembered you've had Kai's shit in your trunk since you dropped him off at Yeonjun's this morning. You didn't have any change of clothes, but that could easily be fixed with Jungkook's closet.

"Only if the queen wants, she's driving."

"It's late, baby." Jungkook says to you softly. "No way I'm letting you two head out there."

"Okay." You give him a small smile before handing your keys. "Can you do me a favor?" He chuckles.

"What is it?"

"Kai's duffle bag is in my trunk." He nods and takes your keys.

"I got it. Kai, you can take the guest room or my office room." Jungkook says with his 3-bedroom apartment having ass. "I have my computer in my office room though, and a pull out bed. I don't know how comfy you'll be."

"It's cool, I'll just take your guest room. I always bring my laptop and switch whenever I sleep at my sister's." Kai says getting up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jungkook says, toothlessly smiling at the both of you, completely endeared at how alike you two were - even down to the fact that you both said thank you for every little thing. If this was a result of Kai being close to you and having you as pretty much his mother figure, then Jungkook wouldn't know what to do with his feelings. He felt butterflies every time he thought about how cute and sweet you were, and he was always excited to be around you.

Jungkook does a quick jog to your car, grabbing Kai's Nike duffle from your trunk before jogging back to the elevator and back to his apartment. He walks in to see Kai helping you clean up the remaining dishes in the sink, tidying the rest of the things in his kitchen.

"Thank you." Jungkook says himself, a little unfamiliar with saying such a thing to be completely honest.

"You're welcome." You say softly, wiping your hands on his hand towel. "Off to bed, or are you gonna go online with your friends?"

"I'll see what they're up to, but I'm pretty beat. Today was fun." Kai smiles at the both of you. "I really appreciate it." You ruffle his hair a bit before gently pushing him towards his bedroom for the night.

"Bathroom's right over there, help yourself to anything you need."

"Don't stay up too late."

"Only if you aren't too loud." You gasp while Jungkook laughs out loud.

"Kai!"

"Hey, I'm just being honest. Please remember that I'm right in this room."

"Oh my god, go to bed." You shove him inside the room and shut his door. "Don't even say a word." You look at Jungkook shyly as you hurriedly brush past him to get into his room - even though Jungkook is literally right behind you with those long ass legs of his, making every stride so much easier for him to catch up to you.

"What's your outfit of choice tonight, pretty lady?" He shuts his door behind him as you start to make your way into his closet.

"Hm, I'll just wear this plain black--" You unfold it. "Balenciaga? Okay, I definitely can't just wear this to sleep."

"Why not?"

"Because this is like, name brand and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "Just wear it, babygirl. It's not gonna make much of a difference, you're wearing it either way." You do a slight pout before you start to slip out of your clothes to get into his shirt. You make his way to his bathroom to take a little tinkle when you notice another toothbrush sitting next to his. A pink toothbrush, next to his blue one.

"Why do you have two toothbrushes?" You wash your hands as he comes in to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed.

"That's yours." Your eyes light up at his statement.

"Mine?"

"I figured since you'd be over more, it'd be easier for you." He furrows his brows lightly. "Unless.. you didn't want--" You press a kiss against his lips, his hands resting on your arms to keep you close.

"No, I did want that. Thank you."

"Of course, baby." He pecks your forehead.

"By the way, way to make me look like such a bad sister!" You say as you start getting your toothbrush ready.

"Why? The shoes?"

"The shoes, the Loco Moco, the games, the ice cream cake." You laughed. "I literally got him a video game and some money."

"I mean, he is turning 18. I wanted to help make it as memorable as possible."

"I appreciate you a lot. Really."

"I appreciate you too." Your eyes widen as you brush your teeth.

"Waaaaow, say thaht wun mohr tiyme." You say, pulling a Jungkook while brushing your teeth.

"Eye apprushiate yoh toh." You giggle. The both of you finish getting ready for bed before slipping into his warm sheets. Jungkook never goes to sleep early, however, he makes sure all the lights are off and that the show he's watching isn't too loud. You have no idea what's going on in his show, but you lay on his chest to watch for a little bit until you feel yourself getting a little more sleepy. He's holding you close, his hand brushing through your hair softly, causing tingles to ripple through your body.

"Kook."

"Yes, baby?"

"You make me happy." You say sleepily as you hung him tighter. He smiles down at you, your eyes now shut close as you slowly start to drift into a deep sleep. He presses a light kiss against your head, fingers still in your hair.

"You make me happy too, sweetheart."

569 notes · View notes

ca-8 · 3 years ago

Text

Yakko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

'This is it. The beginning of the end.'

Gripping on the straps of her backpack, (Y/n) exited the bus and stared up at the water tower that displayed the famous Warner Bros. logo. As expected, it emitted a smug aura onto the entire area; however, surprisingly, there was a slight twinge of mystery to it as well. But she didn't have time to ponder about it, so she only gave it an uneasy look and headed straight for the entrance.

Her heart stopped. She knew the place was going to be busy, but it was like an entire New York City packed in one section! So many writers, producers, actors, large men carrying heavy sets, every type of person working in film was scattered all over the place. It was like an ocean, with the people as marine life doing what they're designed to do, and (Y/n) being the puppy that was abandoned at sea.

The moment it all settled in, an involuntary realization invaded her thoughts. 'I don't belong here.'

The young girl reminded herself to breathe and rushed over to a vacant wall, then pulled out her phone. She had already sent her mother about a thousand messages telling her she was here, but since she hasn't responded, a few more shouldn't hurt. Fingers rapidly typing away, she bit her lower lip, already wishing she had stayed on that bus.

"Oh, you're just gonna love it!" Her mother's squealing voice had already filled her skull. "You're so talented, I know you're gonna fit right in."

'Yeah, standing around all day with a bunch of people I don't know while doing something I suck at is exactly how I wanna spend my summer.' She let out a soft sigh. 'It's fine. Just shut up and make her happy, (Y/n).'

Several attempts of calling and texting later, no response. (Y/n) sighed again, and her eyes wandered over to the bustling crowd. 'No way. Absolutely no way.' But if she wanted to get the day over with, absolutely yes way.

First, she walked up to a lady looking down at the clipboard in her hands. "Um, excuse me," (Y/n) said.

The lady's head snatched up. "KYLE!" she yelled, her eyes now ablaze with fury, "YOU IDIOT! THAT GOES IN THE WAREHOUSE ACROSS THE STUDIO!" And like there was nothing but a breeze behind her, the lady stomped off to the poor soul that had to face her wrath.

The breeze took a step back and ran around the corner. 'Maybe I'll find someone else instead…!' (Y/n) stopped and spotted a man sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance of a small building. She swallowed whatever was left in her mouth and reluctantly approached him.

"E-Excuse me, sir?" she stuttered, hoping her voice was louder than the last time. As she got closer, (Y/n) noticed he was chuckling, and his gaze was glued onto a small piece of paper.

"I...I did it…!" he said. She yelped and shrinked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I FINALLY DID IT! WE'LL SEE WHO'S REGRETTING THE DIVORCE NOW, MARGARET!" And with a manic laugh, the man dashed into the building.

'...Or maybe I'll just find it myself.'

It wasn't too long before (Y/n) got herself lost. Despite the help of maps that were stuck to some of the buildings, all of them seemed exactly the same. It was like a maze, and with each passing minute, she was more and more convinced that there was no finish line. Even worse, her mother was too busy to respond to anything she sent her.

'Oh, what should I do?' (Y/n) thought for the thousandth time. No matter how hard she pinched or held them, her arms refused to stop trembling. Not too long ago, the outside of the studio became deserted and she'd hate to walk in a warehouse and possibly interrupt something important, so asking for help again was out of the question.

...Or, perhaps it wasn't.

A tiny, hopeful smile crossed (Y/n)'s face when she heard the sounds of frustrated grunts around the corner. It was the first time she was so relieved to see a stranger.

And thank god that stranger was a security guard. Though she wondered why he had a giant net in his hand, she shoved the curiosity as far in the back of her mind as she could and reached up to gently tap his shoulder.

"Um, excuse me sir?" she asked as loud as she could.

His head whipped around, revealing angry eyes and a scowl that said he was ready to kill. But right as his gaze landed on her, it changed within an instant.

"Oh, hello!" he said with a bright smile.

(Y/n) blinked, cocking her head. ‘What was this guy up to?’

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where (M/n) (L/n) is filming? I'm her daughter, (Y/n), and I'm trying to look for her. She's not answering her phone either."

His joyful expression slowly melted into a confused one. "Uuhhh…(M/n) (L/n)?”

“Yes. She’s a part of Animal Kingdom? Do you know where that’s being filmed?”

“Oh! I know there’s a zoo around here called Animal Kingdom! I don’t think you’ll find it in a film studio, though.”

(Y/n) frowned. “...No, I mean the show. Aren’t they filming in a warehouse today? Do you know where that is?”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Her eye twitched, and she was just about ready to drown the entire studio in the nearest ocean. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just-”

As if the universe wasn’t satisfied with tormenting her enough, the security guard suddenly launched up into the air and flew into the sky. Right before her eyes, the heavens were coated with explosives of every color that ever existed.

“Oh my god!” (Y/n) yelled. ‘Who strapped fireworks on that guy?!’

“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”

Her eyes were ripped from the loud fireworks show as she was immediately smothered in a hug. “It’s so nice that another girl’s here! All the other ones here are either too busy or just keep shouting about a restraining order for some reason. I dunno, but anyway, I just know you're gonna love it here! Anyway, my name’s Princess Angelina Louisa Cantessa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third! But since we're friends now, you can just call me Dot.”

This confirmed it. This was a trap set up by her mother to deliberately drive her insane, because how else can someone explain the nut jobs and talking dogs in pink dresses?

A combination of those two things happened to be clutching her head and digging her face into hers. “...Huh?” (Y/n) mumbled.

‘Dot’ jumped off of her and smiled widely. “Sorry about Ralph by the way. I figured out you were coming at the last second and I really needed someone for your welcoming gift.” she said.

(Y/n) glanced up at the sky where the fireworks were slowly dying down. “Um...Is he gonna be okay?” she asked.

“Of course he will!” her backpack said.

The teen screamed and threw her bag on the ground. A hand popped out and unzipped it with impossible ease, then a taller boy version of Dot jumped out, pulling up his long brown pants and flashing a grin.

“H-...H-H-How did you…?!” (Y/n) stuttered, pointing at him.

“What? Never heard of cartoon logic?” he said, approaching her. “And Ralph’ll be fine. His skull’s so thick, concrete’s the last thing that can kill him.”

“What-?”

“Anyhow,” he walked over to Dot and put an arm over her shoulder, “The name’s Yakko, this here’s my beloved baby sister Dot, and this is-” He stopped, staring at the empty space to his left. He leaned into Dot, whispering, “Say, uh, you don't mind looking for Wakko, do ya sis?”

Dot glanced at (Y/n) for an uncomfortable moment and suddenly shot her brother a glare. "I've got eyes all over this studio, Yakko," she warned, slowly stepping away.

Now (Y/n) certainly knew she didn't see pairs of eyes appear around every inch of her sight. 'Oh god, I didn't breath in drugs on the way here, did I? Actually, that would explain whatever the heck's going on.'

Yakko smiled as he watched his sister leave and turned to (Y/n). He walked closer to her, and she realized that his half-lidded eyes had a strange glint in them. “Sooo, your name’s (Y/n), right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up. ‘First I get lost, then see a guy get blown up, and now some other guy’s flirting with me? ...To be honest, this is still better than what Mom had planned for today.’

“So what brings ya’ here?” he asked.

“O-Oh, well, my Mom was supposed to give me a tour of the studio, but I’ve been giving that to myself all day. I tried finding her, but I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere near it by now.” Her eyes wandered over to the ground, but a realization made them perk back up and over to Yakko. “Hey, do you happen to know this place by any chance?”

“Know it? Please, my sibs and I live here, we know this place by heart and soul!” He mumbled something else, along the lines of “Basically made our hearts and souls”.

Her heart jumped; finally, a piece of good news. “Really?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

He nodded. “So where do ya’ need to go?” Before she could answer, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and moved in so close, their shoulders were smooshed together. Yakko unfolded it, and it turned out to be the biggest map (Y/n) has ever seen. “Well, from here, you’re gonna need to take a right and continue straight until you get to the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts exhibit. But be careful, I heard some of them escaped, and if anyone asks if you’ve seen any of them, don’t tell them I gave one to Dot as a late birthday gift. Anyway, you take a left from there, then a right where you’ll see the lot where they used to shoot Game of Thrones. Now this is only a rumour I’ve heard, but I think some of the producers are still on that set. If you happen to see them, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention season eight, or maybe just don’t mention the show at all. Actually, don’t even look at them. As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t even go there at all, just keep heading straight until you get to the D.C. Universe lot. Then you just take left there, then a sharp right over over, then you keep going straight until you get to here, turn up over there, turn right there, and then you’re there. Did ya’ follow all that?”

(Y/n) stared at his face, which was practically radiating with enthusiasm, and she felt her eye twitch again. “...No,” she said, shaking her head.

His smile dimmed, but it became just as bright as the sun again a split-second later. “Ah well, maps are gettin' old anyways,” he said, throwing the map over his shoulder. “WAKKO!!”

And, low and behold, another anthropomorphic dog popped out of nowhere, and (Y/n) was starting to question if there was an army of them hidden somewhere. But she had to admit, it was pretty cute how this one was dressed in an oversized blue sweater and red hat.

“Tablet, please,” Yakko said politely, holding out his hand.

‘You're not gonna walk me there-?'

Wakko suddenly held his head back with his cheeks puffed out, then leaned into Yakko’s hand as he forced out a small object from his mouth. After an incredibly uneasy moment, a tablet glazed in spit was in Yakko's grasp. While he praised the little guy, (Y/n) forced back the urge to vomit.

“E-Ehhhh…?” She couldn’t say anything else while her gaze frantically went back and forth from Wakko and the regurgitated tablet.

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Yakko said. “(Y/n), this is my dear little brother, Wakko. Wakko, this here’s our new special friend, (Y/n).”

“Hello!” Wakko greeted, who was suddenly in her arms. “You’re really pretty!”

“Ehh? Thank you? I guess??” she said apprehensively, and finally managed to make eye contact. Despite his...quirks, he's actually a little adorable... She let herself grin a little.

The moment of semi-peace was ruined when she took notice of Yakko’s narrowed eyes. “ALrighty, (Y/n)!” he said loudly, grabbing his little brother by the collar and gently setting him on the ground. “Animal Kingdom, right? Let’s get ya’ right over there.” He moved right beside her and taped the screen a couple times.

“Um, what’re you doing exactly?” she asked.

“Doing what every person does to get somewhere nowadays.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and (Y/n) flinched from his touch. “Please keep your arms, legs, and personal items inside the tablet at all times.”

Just when she was about to question him for the hundredth time, he pressed the screen again, and her vision became nothing but white. Her body felt like it was launched into a tornado; a strong force of wind thrusted her back, and somehow, the boy’s arm kept her from flying off from his side. A second later, her feet were back on the ground, the sky was where it needed to be, and reality was back in place.

Except for (Y/n)’s mentality.

She stumbled around, trying to find her balance as the world unbearably whirled around her. Finally, she shook her head, and quickly turned back towards Yakko, whose face tried to tell her whatever happened was perfectly fine and normal.

“What was THAT?” she yelled, staggering towards him and gripping his shoulders.

And he still had the audacity to have that 'why-are-you-freaking-out-so-much-we-do-this-every-Friday' smile. “Thank you for attending Warner’s Travel Tours! I would say my Agent Ralph’ll take your bags, but I left him alone with my sibs, so he’s probably in the middle of the Pacific Ocean by now.”

(Y/n) could only stare at him. Her mind was twisting and turning, trying so hard to make any sense of what happened but only making her headache grow larger and larger. And then, her thoughts just went blank.

She smirked. Then giggled. And a few seconds later, she had burst out laughing whilst holding her stomach. (Y/n) looked back up at Yakko, wiping a tear from her eye. “Th-Thank you…” she said, catching her breath.

His smile had grown and she thought his white cheeks were red for a moment. Yakko had opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a net suddenly covering his entire body. Ralph was behind him, his skin and clothes burnt and ears practically smoking. “You’re coming with me, Warner!” he said.

And yet, Yakko only grinned. Like physics was his enemy, he disappeared from inside the net and appeared sprouting from the security guard’s back, cheerfully waving at (Y/n). “I’ll see ya’ around, yeah?” he said, then ran around the corner with Ralph sprinting right after him.

(Y/n) giggled and reached for the straps around her back. But when she only felt the (f/c) fabric of her shirt, her smile dropped, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Great…” she whispered.

“(Y/N)!”

She gasped as a pair of arms squeezed the life out of her. Her mother spun her around to face her gleaming smile, which was immediately replaced by an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your texts! That scene took forever, but I’m glad you found your way here! You’re so smart! Anyway, I know we don’t get as much time now, but there’s still so much we’ll be able to see!...”

She rambled on and on and on and on. Her daughter’s shoulders slumped and she followed her to where she wanted her to go, but the frown on her face didn’t last long when she remembered the fun she had just a few seconds ago. ‘Maybe this summer won’t be that bad.’

#is this how you write him lmao #i love this boi so much #animaniacs #cartoons #x reader #fanfiction #the reader in this is like 15 dont worry lol #im bored #yakko warner

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raewritez · 3 years ago

Text

Enough | Sokka

based on this request: You want requests? I have an idea/request if you don't mind and are still accepting them, if not I’m sorry. Maybe “friends to lovers/teammates to lovers” where Reader joins the team from Ba Sing Se and while they’re preparing for the invasion, or beyond, Sokka and Reader fall in love, or start to fall in love? I hope that makes sense. Thanks! Your writing is all wonderful! <3

word count: 3.6k

The last thing you'd expected was for the Avatar to break into your house.

You'd been upstairs in your room when you'd heard a ruckus from down below, drawing you to your feet with nervousness and light footsteps. Who was it, burglars? You made your way down the stairs, body pressed against the wall. You heard muffled whispering.

"We can't just break into random houses, Sokka!"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?! Do you have any better ideas?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought, Aang. Just trust the process."

You peered over the corner, catching sight of the intruders. A boy, a bit shorter than you, stood awkwardly in the corner of your living room. He was dressed in yellow and orange robes, his head decorated with a blue arrow. Huh. Beside him, pulling the curtain back cautiously to scan outside, was a boy seemingly about your age. He was tall, tan skin and dark hair, dressed in a sleeveless blue tunic. You didn't peg these guys as particular threats, so you stepped down.

"Uh, hello?"

They spun around with a yelp, assuming defensive positions. The taller boy held something in his hand - a boomerang? He narrowed his eyes at you.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"Um, this is my house? Who are you?"

He lowered his arm, glancing around sheepishly. "Oh, uh, sorry. We needed to hide."

You raised an eyebrow. "Hide? Hide from who?"

The younger boy spoke up. "The Dai Li."

You furrowed your brows. "The Dai Li?" You questioned, confused. "Why would you need to hide from them? Did you, like, break the law?"

The older boy crossed his arms. "What? No!"

"Then why are you hiding?"

"Because they're after us!"

"Why would they be after you if you didn't break the law?"

"Because!" He was flailing his arms now, and you almost chuckled with amusement. "They - they're bad guys!"

You looked at him flatly. "That sounds like something a criminal would say."

He groaned. "Ugh, ok, ok. Once we know they're gone, we'll leave."

"Are you sure? I was gonna invite you for some tea and cookies," you teased. He glances back, as if seeing if you were serious, before turning back grumpily.

The younger boy scratches his head awkwardly. "Um, anyway, thanks for not kicking us out. I'm Aang."

You chuckle. "Yeah...no problem. I'm Y/n." You aren't quite sure why you're having a conversation with the guys who just broke into your house, but they seem nice enough. The older one's a little grouchy, but for some reason you feel safe.

Aang smiles brightly. "Nice to meet you. This is Sokka," he says, nudging his shoulder.

Sokka glances back at you. "Hey." You offer him a wave.

"So...why are you hiding in my house?"

Aang glances at Sokka, and it seems like a silent argument passes between them. Sokka shakes his head, Aang gives him an imploring look, and Sokka glares. Then he throws his hands up, mumbles a "Fine", and Aang turns back to you with a grin.

"Well, you see, I'm the Avatar," Your eyes grow wide. "And we're trying to get some important information to the Earth King. But the Dai Li don't want us to, so they're kinda chasing us."

"You're the Avatar?" You breathe. He nods cheerfully. "Wait - so, why are the Dai Li chasing you? Shouldn't they be helping?"

"Yeah, they should," Sokka says. "But they decided to, you know, not."

You're confused. The Dai Li are the highest level of protection for the people of Ba Sing Se. Why wouldn't they help the Avatar? You look around the room, spotting the closet near the door. An idea pops into your head.

"I can help." They both turn to you, looking skeptical. "I mean I can help you get out. Without being noticed."

They look at each other, hold their gaze, then turn to you and nod.

///

"I look ridiculous."

You stifle a laugh, taking in Sokka's appearance. "I think you look great. And it'll help you get by unnoticed, so that's what matters."

He's dressed in your father's trench coat, a heavy, brown beast of a thing that's so long it pools at his ankles. He's also sporting a dashing top-hat; the brim so wide it effectively shelters his face. He glares.

Aang comes bouncing in, dressed in a hooded cape that provides coverage for his tattoo. He stops short when he sees Sokka, doubling over in laughter. "Oh, you look great, Sokka."

Sokka groans, slumping over. "Let's just get out of here."

You lead them out the front door, scanning the road for any sign of threats. You step out, the boys following in tow, and walk as confidently as you can past the agents lining the street. Eventually, you successfully make it out of the middle ring. Sokka immediately sheds his disguise.

"Well, here you go," you say, looking around. Although only one ring above you, the Upper Ring is much nicer than you're used to. "Good luck with the Earth King."

Aang's eyes grow wide. "Wait! You should...you should come with us!"

You tilt your head. "Come with you where?"

"Back to our place! You could meet our friends!" He nudges Sokka, who appears disinterested. "Right, Sokka?"

Sokka's eyes snap to yours. "Oh, uh, sure. I guess."

You're about to politely decline, but Aang is staring at you so hopefully that you can't turn him down. You smile softly. "Sure, Aang."

"Awesome! Let's go."

You're led through the cobblestone pathways, eyes trailing after ornate carriages and towering buildings. Soon, you reach their house. The home of the Avatar. Sokka walks up and turns the knob, jumping back in surprise. In front of him stands a girl, not much younger than you, with her hands on her hips and her eyes bright with anger.

"Where have you been?!" She demands, dragging him inside by his collar. "We've been worried sick! I mean, you didn't even leave a note, didn't say anything-"

"We're sorry, Katara," Aang intervenes, hands raised in peaceful greeting. "We got caught up."

It's then that her eyes fall on you, gaze softening into uncertainty. She looks at Sokka expectantly.

"Oh!" He exclaims, stepping back and gesturing towards you. "This is Y/n. She helped us get away from the Dai Li."

The girl, Katara as she'd been called, offered you a slight smile of gratitude. "Thank you for helping my idiot brother."

You chuckled, grinning at the look of betrayal Sokka gave the girl. "It was no problem."

She nodded, extending her arm. "Do you want to come in?"

You glanced towards Aang, who was smiling excitedly. "Oh, yeah, sure."

You stepped inside, feeling a bit awkward. You didn't really understand why Aang wanted you to come so badly, but it was a kind gesture nonetheless. You scanned the interior; emerald walls adorned with gold plating that was probably more expensive than your whole apartment. You fidgeted your fingers, standing by while Katara and Sokka bickered about responsibility. A slam startled you out of your thoughts.

"Who's this?" A girl stepped out of the - hole? Yeah, hole, she'd just kicked a hole in the wall. Katara paused her lecture.

"Toph, this is Y/n. She helped Sokka and Aang with the Dai Li."

"Cool." She yawned, walking past you and plopping on the couch.

"We need to get to the Earth King," Sokka said, assuming a demeanor of focus and determination. "If the Dai Li aren't going to help us get to him, we'll have to do it ourselves." He briefly explained his plan, something about breaking into the fancy party that was happening later that night. They came up with roles, with guidelines for what each person should do, working together like a well-oiled machine. You felt out of place, you didn't know what your purpose was here. Aang turned to you, smiling softly.

"Y/n, you in?"

You stared. You couldn't comprehend the reason this boy had so much faith in you, the reason these kids were so willing to let you in on their scheme after just meeting you less than an hour ago. You didn't understand why you trusted them, either. You smiled.

"I'm in."

///

That was your first mistake.

When you'd agreed to break into an Earth Kingdom party with the Avatar, you didn't think you'd end up having to flee your home. You sat upon Appa's back, knees pulled to your chest as Ba Sing Se grew smaller. Sokka was steering, and the rest had their heads tucked into their hands. Except for Aang, who was lying unconscious next to Katara.

You'd remained in the city with Katara as the rest of the group separated, happy to spend some time with your newfound friend. It was then that things got messy; you found out the Fire Nation had infiltrated the government, the local tea-boy was actually a banished prince, and you found yourself in the crystal catacombs as a battle went on around you. You'd been there with Zuko and Katara, and you weren't sure exactly what'd gone down between them but it was obviously something serious, and you'd been there as he joined his sister - Azula. She was pretty scary.

You fought the best you could, your unpracticed earth-bending not doing much damage against the Dai Li agents, before Aang was struck by Azula's lightning. Now, you sat atop his sky-bison, mind racing and body numb from the shock of it all. You were in way over your head.

The five of you met up with Sokka and Katara's dad after dropping off the Earth King, because, you know, he was just casually there, too, boarding a Fire Nation ship as a means of disguise. Sokka introduced you to his father, Hakoda, who welcomed you with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. Sokka's told me a lot about you. You two must really get along well," he said when Sokka was out of ear reach, voice laced with mirth. You flushed when you registered what he was implying; the mischief gleaming in his eyes. You frantically tried to put a sentence together.

"Oh, we're not - he doesn't...I mean we do, but not like-" He cut you off with a chuckle and a friendly pat to your shoulder.

"I'm just teasing. Come on, let's join the others."

You sat with your friends and the Water Tribesmen aboard the steely deck, huddling with Toph and Sokka for warmth. Katara went downstairs to heal Aang, who had yet to wake. Your meals mainly consisted of rice as it was too risky to stop and buy more supplies. You were still dressed in your Earth Kingdom clothes; green-tinted pants and a tunic, feet clad in worn-down boots. Not ideal for posing as a Fire Nation soldier.

You were still in shock, you supposed, at how quickly things changed and how fiercely your life was ripped from you. I mean, just a few days ago you were a normal kid living in the middle ring of Ba Sing Se, where nothing remotely exciting ever happened. Then, the Avatar and his friend had broken into your house and now everything was different. You weren't upset, it was just a lot to process. You were worried for Aang and a bit overwhelmed at the reality that seemed to be your new friends' normal. So when everyone else returned to their rooms for sleep, you made your way to the overlook.

The moon beamed down over the sea - ivory light caressing the waves and kissing the surface. You breathed deeply, inhaling the cool night air that smelled of salt-water and a freedom you'd never experienced. You sat there, slightly chilly from the cold, when a warm presence took place by your side.

You glanced up, seeing Sokka's skin glowing under the starlight. Woah, had he always been this pretty? It was probably just the moon...that and your sleep deprivation. Yeah, that was it.

"What're you doing up?" He questioned, eyes cast out to the horizon. His hair was loose from its usual ponytail - wolf-tail, as he'd passionately pointed out to you days earlier - the dark locks flowing freely about his face. You tore your eyes away, following his stare.

"Just couldn't sleep," you glanced over. "You?"

He sighed, leaning against the metal. "Me neither. Just worried."

You turned to face him, face softening into concern. "About what?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "About Aang. About the Earth Kingdom...just...everything."

You moved closer, resting your forearms against the edge of the ship. He pressed his shoulder against yours.

"I get it. I am, too. Everything that's happening is just...crazy. There's no way I could've even imagined it."

Sokka tilted his head towards you, blue eyes glimmering with compassion and softness. "Yeah...how are you doing? I haven't really asked, I mean, this must be kinda shocking for you."

You snorted, nodding your head. "Well, yeah. But it's ok. I'm not the one who has it worst right now."

"Sure, but you can still talk about it. You can talk to me...if you want."

You smiled up at him, his face shadowed by the abyss of the night. "Thanks."

He offered you a grin before staring up at the sky. "You know, that's my first girlfriend," he said, pointing at the moon.

"The moon?" He nodded. "That's...rough."

///

It was finally here. The day of Black Sun.

You'd be lying if you said you felt totally prepared, but with some rigorous earth bending lessons from Toph and sparring with Sokka, you felt more confident in your abilities.

A finger poked your cheek. "Hey, are you listening?"

You glanced at Sokka's teasing grin, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. "Uh...yes?"

"Really," he said, moving to stand in front of you. "What did I say?"

"Something about...food?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "It's ok, I'll tell you later." He looked behind him, taking in the sight of the preparing fighters and looming submarines. He took your hand in his. "Are you ready for this?"

You sigh, squeezing his fingers between your own. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He smiles down at you, and the look in his eyes is pure adoration. He reaches to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You know, I'm glad I broke into your house."

You snort, swatting his hand away. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks a lot, nerd."

He chuckles. "Hey, I know you're glad, too. Otherwise, you never would've met me and would've been miserable and bored your whole life."

You laugh, but it's probably true. You and Sokka had grown much closer over the past weeks, days spent in playful conversation and evening strolls, in play-wrestling and heads rested on shoulders. You were the one he came to when his mind was troubled, when his energy was too spent to conjure any jokes. Yeah, you were glad, too.

You were called into the submarines - Sokka's invention, something you were unfathomably proud of - and off you went. Into the Fire Nation. Your arrival went mostly smoothly, disregarding the few punctures in the submarine walls, and you ran out of the carrier with the earth at your fingertips. Aang had flown off to fight the Fire Lord, and it was up to the rest of you to deal with everyone else. Your heart pumped loudly, blood rushing in your ears and adrenaline flowing in your veins. You raised your arms, summoning the ground upwards to knock out a few soldiers.

"Y/n!"

You turned around just in time to see Katara swoop down on Appa, Sokka and Hakoda climbing up with her. "Come on!" she yelled. "We're going to take out the soldier's battlements."

You nodded, running towards the bison and pulling yourself atop the saddle with help from Sokka. Appa lifts off, reaching between the battlements.

"Katara and I will take the one on the right," Hakoda said, his voice one of a true commander. "Sokka and Y/n, the left. Let's go."

You climb the battlement, hoisting yourself inside through the window before scanning the room. Pointed outwards is a sort of cannon, aimed perfectly towards the group of fire benders that were advancing towards your friends. You step forward, trying to figure out the mechanics while Sokka climbs in. "Oh-ho," he says, taking note of the projection of the cannon. "This thing is just begging to be fired."

You nodded, toying with the controls. Sokka stepped behind you. "Here, I'll show you."

He placed his palm over your hand, guiding it to where it needed to be. From his pocket he pulled a match - where did that come from, anyway? - and nudged it between your fingers. "Light it up, Sunshine."

You place the tip to the ignition, Sokka aiming the cannon. He pulls you back against him, arms wound tightly around your waist, and you cover your ears. The canon booms, sending out a flurry of smoke. You rush forward, fearful of the damage you might have just inflicted, breathing out when you see that it only landed between the soldiers and your friends. It didn't hit them, something you were a bit grateful for, but it allowed the fighters to evade the onslaught. Sokka chuckled in your ear.

"Not bad, not bad."

"You did all the work."

"That's not true! You were vital."

You shake your head, fighting off a grin. "Ok, we should probably get rid of this thing now."

"Agreed."

You climb back out the window, jumping onto the ground with a thud. Breathing deeply, you concentrated your mind on the earth that lay below the battlement, and with a flick of your wrist, it crumbled. From the cliffside it fell, effectively ridding you of one other thing to worry about.

Sokka let out a low whistle. "Impressive."

You turned to him, out of breath. He stepped closer, brows knitted in slight concern as he lifted your chin with his knuckles. "Hey, you ok?"

You nodded, swallowing and trying to rewatch your breath. "Yeah, still a little new to this."

His thumb stroked your cheek before he moved his arm, placing it over your shoulders. "Come on, just stay with me."

You did, gladly.

///

So...things didn't exactly go as planned.

It turned out that the Fire Lord knew all along about the invasion, and Aang never had the chance to fight him. You'd come face-to-face with Azula again, something that made your blood boil. You'd had to leave - leaving the adults behind while the kids climbed aboard Appa's saddle. You were all exhausted, slumped over and falling to your knees when you finally reached the Western Air Temple.

You tried to mull your sadness; that guilty feeling that it was you who should've been left behind instead. You knew everyone was hurting - some in ways you couldn't really fathom. Aang felt like he had failed - again - and he went to bed that night with a half-hearted side hug and tired eyes. Toph felt weak, something she hated more than anything in the world. And Sokka and Katara...they'd lost their dad again.

So when you saw Sokka on the mountainside, head held in hands, you felt that he was more important. You plopped down next to him, his eyes snapping up and softening when they laid on you. No words were spoken; they didn't need to be. Instead, he sighed, pressing his cheek against your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him with your touch. You only halted when he laced your fingers with his own, pulling your hand to his lap and tracing patterns across your skin.

"It's not your fault, Sokka."

He nodded against you, but you heard his sniff. You straightened up, his head begrudgingly lifting from its place against you before you cupped his face with your palm. "It's not," you implored, desperate for him to stop feeling so down on himself. "None of us could've predicted that they knew. And with Azula...she knew what she was doing. None of this is because of you."

He glanced away, blue eyes brimming with the tears he'd fought so hard to keep at bay. He dipped his head in silent acceptance, nuzzling against the warmth of your palm. You smiled sadly.

"It's not over, Sokka. There's still hope, now more than ever. And I know we'll figure it out."

He raised his gaze, and it seemed like his soul was carried in his stare. Slowly, enough so that you thought you imagined it, his eyes drifted down to your lips. He leaned in slowly, bringing his calloused hand to brush back your hair. You were frozen, as if one wrong move would shatter you from this dream. His palm was warm against your cheek, and his nose bumped your own. Your eyes met his, close enough together that it was a bit funny to look at, and he offered you a silent question. You answered with your lips against his.

He breathed against you, fingers carding through your hair. His lips were warm and oh, so soft, and they moved against yours with ease. You wound your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. He was warm, and he was familiar, and he was safe. You pulled apart when your lungs ached for air, peeling your eyes open with effort. He was looking at you, and you were looking at him, and suddenly a grin broke out across his face. He laughed breathily, nudging his head into the crook of your neck. You laughed with him, holding him tight. You sat there together for who knows how long, melted in each other's embrace under the light of the moon. He pressed soft kisses against your neck and whispered thanks into your ears. You responded with a peck to his tanned cheeks. You were right, he knew. It wasn't over. There was time left, and there was hope. Wrapped in your arms, he was sure of that.

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calpalirwin · 3 years ago

Text

Mosaic Broken Hearts

Summary: More secrets spill out the more your relationship with Bucky grows

Word Count: 4.4k

And away, and away we go!

Bright flashes of light, explosions, blood spattered everywhere, pain, indescribable pain. You screamed for it to stop.

“Hey,” a voice was calling out, a hand nudging at you. “Hey! Y/N! C’mon!”

You screamed louder as your eyes snapped open, scrambling to get out of bed, and promptly face planting on the floor in the process. “You have exactly five seconds to explain who the hell you are, and what the fuck you’re doing in my room before I kill you. One!” You made your voice as threatening impossible, as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. Where the fuck was a prosthetic when you needed it? Could you kill this guy from the floor? Well… It’d be messy, but you sure as hell would try.

With your mind racing, it took a minute to register that your intruder was laughing. Why the fuck were they laughing?

“Two!”

“It’s me! It’s Bucky. You had a nightmare.”

Different flashes went through your head. Screaming in the lab for a knife. Bucky offering to carry you to your room. You asking him to stay. “Oh…”

“C’mon,” he said softly as he appeared in front of you. One of his arms went around your back, the other hooking under your left knee as he picked you up and set you back in bed. “Do you wanna talk about it, or just leave it?”

“I- Gimme a minute,” you told him, taking a series of long, slow deep breaths as the adrenaline pounding through your veins slowed. “Fuck… You’re just seeing every ounce of vulnerability I have, aren’t you?”

“Could have just as easily been me having the nightmare.”

“Only you wouldn’t have face-planted out of bed in the process. Or at least you would have been able to get up by yourself if you had,” you replied bitterly.

“Can you not play that tough guy role who has it all together all the time?”

“I dunno, let’s ask my pride.”

“I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Or think less of you, or whatever else your head is telling you I’m gonna do. You can’t scare me off, Y/N. The only thing you’re fighting here is your own pride.”

“Yes, I’m well aw-” you started, then sighed. “Thank you. I’m, uh… not used to this. So I’m probably gonna be bad at it for a while. But thank you. For staying and stuff. Now… if you wanna go ahead and be the vulnerable one for a bit, that would be fantastic.”

Bucky chuckled, his arm snaking across your shoulders to hold you loosely at his side. “I’m sure it’ll happen eventually. I’m pretty broken myself. And rumor has it you have a soft spot for broken things.”

“Aw, he pays attention, how sweet,” you teased, squishing his cheeks in your hand.

He chuckled again, and you admired the throaty sound of it. “So, the nightmare?”

You let out a sigh. “It’s always the same one. Two car accidents. Two explosions. Lots of blood. Lots of screaming. Which is ridiculous to me because one of the car accidents I wasn’t even there for. It was my parents, and I was just told about it. But I still dream about it like I was there.”

Bucky stiffened, and you assumed it was in sympathy to having nightmares about memories that weren’t your own. “And then the other accident is yours and Tony’s?”

You nodded. “Yep. My family should just stay away from cars. We don’t exactly have the best track record with them.”

“How old were you when it happened?”

“When what happened? My parents, or my leg getting blown off?”

“Both? If you feel comfortable. It’s fine if you want me to shut up.”

“No, it’s fine. I was… Let’s see… I was 11 when my parents died. And I was 28 when I lost my leg.”

“You said after your parents died you went straight into the Army. How could you do that if you were 11?”

“Okay, so I left out some steps. My parents died. I finished school. Went to Westpoint, became an officer, then got shipped overseas. All the while Tony did whatever the hell it is Tony does.”

“And you were 28 when you had your accident, which means…”

“That I’m 36, yeah. Still younger than you, even though all that time spent frozen and whatever magic in that serum slows the aging process makes you look about 32.”

“I was going to say it means we were the same age when we had our incidents. But thanks for reminding me that I’m technically 99.”

You snorted. “God, my boyfriend’s old.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Shit… Jumped to conclusions… Fuck, sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I, uh, it’s fine. It’s more than fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I happen to like you quite a bit, Y/N. In case I haven’t made that obvious.”

“Good. Cuz I happen to like you quite a bit as well.”

~~~

Waking up in the morning with Bucky’s arm thrown around you was nice in a way you didn’t expect. While your friendship with him up until this point had already made you feel better than you had in longer than you could remember, the dating part was already adding to that feeling, even though it’d only been a handful of hours since you made the change from friends to boyfriends, most of which had been spent sleeping through the night. Bucky made you feel seen in a way you weren’t used to, and while it scared you, it also thrilled you. And it was more than just being able to see you. He understood you. He understood your pain. And it didn’t scare him. It was a relief to not feel so fucking alone, or have to put up a front.

Your problem now was not wanting to wake him up. He looked so peaceful, the long locks of brown hair acting as a curtain in front of his face. You knew if those fluttering eyelids flashed open, you’d find the most stunning pair of blue eyes, which was quite the statement considering you’ve known Steve for five years. Was it an unspoken requirement that you had to be god-level hot to be a super soldier? Or did the serum do that? Either way, it was grossly unfair.

You were awake, and your stomach was growling, and now you were in a predicament. One, despite your hunger, you didn’t want to leave your bed. There was a hot man in it with his arm flung around you. Two, getting out of bed when your prosthetic limb was still in the lab wasn’t going to be an easy task, unless you woke up said hot man sleeping in your bed. Which you didn’t want to do, because A.) he looked so peaceful and B.) you knew how hard peaceful sleep was to come by, so you didn’t want to be the one to ruin it for him. But god damn, you needed food. And to get to the lab to build a new leg.

It was fine. You could do this. You could get across the room to your closet where you had a pair of crutches without waking Bucky in the process. You were the king of stealth.

Through some small miracle, you managed to make it out of your room without waking Bucky, leaving behind a small note as to where he could find you.

As you made your way to the giant kitchen area, you remembered why you usually either hid in the lab until you made a new leg, or used an office chair to scoot about the place. These crutches were a pain in the ass, beads of sweat forming on your face by the time you got to the kitchen, where you came face to face with what could possibly be your worst fucking nightmare: the full team of half awake Avengers staring at you in shock.

“Morning,” you greeted, making it the rest of the way to a countertop, and leaning on it.

Mumbles of “hey”s and “morning”s chorused back at you, with the exception of Tony who went “Kid, get a chair. With wheels.”

Peter looked up from his bowl of cereal. “Got it, Mr. Stark,” he replied before dashing off.

“Tony, that’s not really necessary,” you started. “I’m just gonna grab something and head to the lab.”

“Don’t play the stubborn hero act. It’s annoying,” was all he replied with as Peter reappeared with an office chair. “Thanks, kid. Sit, Y/N. Toast?”

“Thanks, Peter,” you smiled gratefully, easing into the chair, leaving the crutches leaning against the counter. “And yeah, toast or whatever’s fine, Tony. Thank you.”

“So cordial, are you sure you’re a Stark?” Steve teased.

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned, scooting your way over to the table.

“Your leg okay?” he followed up with genuine concern.

“Which one?” you asked sardonically.

“Yep, definitely a Stark.”

“So hanging around the Manchurian Candidate helping you embrace amputee life finally?” Tony asked, setting a plate of toast before you.

“Actually it was an explosion that made me embrace amputee life. You were there, remember?”

“My brother, the comedian,” he said with an eye roll. “You know what I meant.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I mean I guess. It’s still not something I’m gonna go around mentioning for the hell of it. Kinda like how you don’t go around mentioning certain things.”

“Mentioning your business isn’t my business, Y/N, it’s yours.”

“I appreciate the discretion.”

“I’m sorry,” a man spoke up. “Is anyone else lost, or just me?”

“Scott, this is,” Tony started, but thought better of it. “Fuck it, it’s your business, you tell it.”

��Y/N Stark. Tony’s younger brother. Ex-military. Not an Avenger, I just live here,” you rattled off the basics. “Oh, and my right leg below the knee is fake thanks to yours truly,” you pointed at Tony. “Well, right now it’s non existent because I had to stab the prosthetic I did have. Different story, different time.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tony interjected as people stared at him with their mouths open in shock. “I did not blow off your leg. Stark weapons did.”

“Same difference. And it wasn’t meant maliciously. Just a fact. Anyway, I’m pretty easy to find if you need me because I’m usually in the lab. Speaking of, do you need me today, Tony?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“Cool. Cuz I gotta make a new leg.”

“Aw,” Bucky’s voice pouted from behind you, “and I was starting to like carrying you around.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You could’ve woken me up,” he murmured.

“Um… what is this?” Tony asked, waving a finger between you and Bucky.

“None of your concern,” you replied bluntly.

“Bullshit it’s not. Hanging out with him is one thing, Y/N. But whatever that is, shut it down, and shut it down now.”

“I’m going to say this as respectfully as possible 1.) because we’re family and 2.) because I don’t want my morning to become more of a spectacle than it already has been. But you don’t get a say in how I live my life. You had your chance to be involved after Mom and Dad died, and you ran away from that chance. And I try really hard not to hold a grudge against you for that. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since our accident. But I’m a grown ass man, Tony. Who I chose to involve myself with is none of your concern.”

“Oh, so you’re fine with your new boyfriend being a mass murderer?”

You laughed. You laughed so hard you doubled over in your chair, your sides aching and tears forming in your eyes. “That’s the best fuckin’ joke I’ve ever heard!” you kept howling with laughter. “Mass murderer boyfriend, do you hear this shit? Cuz the rest of us in this room are so innocent, right? Cuz our hands aren’t covered in the blood of someone else? Oh, God! Yeah, you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that, Tony.” You snorted. “Mass murderer. Yep. That’s a good one.”

Your brother’s eyes flashed darkly. “So, you’re aware that part of his mass murder history includes our parents? Or did Sergeant Barnes conveniently leave that out?”

You stopped laughing as you glanced upwards at Bucky. His hands were gripped tightly on the back of your chair, the knuckles on his right hand white from the force of the grip. His body was rigid, eyes screwed shut. “What?” you croaked out in a barely audible whisper.

“Yeah. The reason you got robbed of a childhood with Mom?” Tony clicked his tongue, pointing at Bucky. “Right there.”

You continued to look up at Bucky who stayed in his frozen state. “Tell me he’s lying,” you pleaded quietly. When Bucky still didn’t move, you shoved a hand into his chest. “Tell me he’s lying, Bucky!”

Slowly Bucky opened his eyes, his face, his gorgeous face, a painting of pain and sorrow. “I’m sorry…”

You hated this. You hated Tony for blowing up your life a second time. You hated Bucky for not telling you this himself. And you hated yourself for daring to believe that for once you could be happy. But you’d be damned if you’d let them see you break. You took a slow breath, sealing yourself off, the walls building around you. “I have work to do,” you said, starting to push away in your chair, but Bucky’s grip still held you in place.

“Y/N,” he said in a cracked voice. “Y/N, please.”

“You have exactly five seconds to let go of my chair, Sergeant Barnes, before I break your hands. One,”

“Y/N.”

“Two.”

“Please, let me explain.”

“Three. I swear I’ll break those hands. Metal or not.”

“Love, please don’t do this…”

“Four,” you continued to count, feeling your voice start to shake at the way he called you “love.”

He let go, and you pushed yourself quickly out of the room, not daring to look back.

~~~

In the lab, you tried to distract your brain, but it still raced. There were so many swirling parts, and you were so angry that you couldn’t pinpoint what was actually making you angry.

Footsteps and a throat clearing had you snapping up your head, body tense, not ready to face either Bucky or Tony. So when you saw it was Steve, your defenses fell. “Hey, Steve,” you greeted half-heartedly.

“Hey. How you feeling?” he asked, testing the waters as he slowly made his way to you.

“I’m not gonna bite your head off if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Don’t think I could blame you if you did. What happened back there was… intense. Tony was out of line.”

“When isn’t Tony out of line?”

“Fair point. But hey, I’m here if you want someone to scream at. Someone to help answer any of the thousand of questions running through your head.”

“I don’t want to scream at anyone. Kill Tony, maybe. But I’m kinda used to that feeling. I just… Fuck, I dunno, Steve. I don’t know what to be mad at, or about. I just know that I’m mad. Hurt. I’m hurt.”

“So start at the beginning. Work through it.”

“It’s true, right? What Tony said about Bucky?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“How long did everyone know?”

“It came out when we brought Bucky in. So a few months now. Obviously Bucky knew longer.”

“Obviously,” you snorted, then sighed. “Well, that explains Tony’s feelings towards Bucky.”

“But it’s still not an excuse for how it came out. There was a way to handle that situation and that wasn’t it. So if you want to be angry with Tony for that, you’re well within your right.”

“Oh, I’m livid. Like don’t trust myself alone in a room with him, livid. And I hate the position it puts me in. Being mad at him for telling me the truth. Sounding like an ungrateful, spoiled brat.”

“You can appreciate what Tony’s done for you while hating the circumstances that led to it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.”

“I deal in absolutes, Steve. It’s what makes the most sense to me. Facts. Fact: my parents died. Fact: Bucky caused their accident. Fact: their death shaped the way I lived my life, and the way Tony lived his. Fact: Tony’s actions ruined my life, not once, but twice now.”

“And where does that leave you with Bucky?”

You sighed. “That’s where things get convoluted. Fact: he was brainwashed as the Winter Soldier. So I can’t hold that against him. And I don’t. Me knowing Bucky caused their accident doesn’t make them less dead. So as stupid as it seems, I’m not mad about that. I’m mad he didn’t tell me himself. But even then? Part of me can still understand why he didn’t. I mean, there were things about my past I kept from him. And at what point do you drop a bomb like that?”

“So where does all of that leave you?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Part of me wants to clock Tony for running his mouth. Part of me is screaming that this is exactly why I don’t let people in. And part of me is still stupidly head over heels in love with Bucky, even though I feel like my trust in him got betrayed.”

“In love with him? Does Bucky know?”

You shook your head. “We barely started dating. And I mean barely. Like it happened last night barely.”

“And now it’s already potentially over.”

“Yup…”

“Well. And you can do whatever you want with this advice. But, it sounds like the real issue is with Tony, not Bucky. So try not to confuse the two.”

“But how do I trust him, Steve? I laid everything out on the line, and he couldn’t do the same for me.”

“Sounds like you trust him just fine if you’re able to do all that. So is your real hurt, with Bucky at least, in the fact that you feel he doesn’t trust you back? I mean, and correct me if I’m wrong, but this is just my observations. You don’t let that vulnerable side of you show often, if ever. I mean, everyone back there expected you to rip Tony’s head from his shoulders and you barely raised your voice. You have a very tight control on your feelings. You have a very tight control on what you let others around you in on. So if you allowed yourself to be vulnerable to Bucky, I can understand how that powershift makes you feel out of control. I can see how any indication of him not trusting you back is a huge act of betrayal in your mind. It’s like you loaded the gun, and handed it to him yourself.”

“Have I ever told you how much you scare me with how observant you are?”

Steve chuckled. “I knew Bucky a long time before he was the Winter Soldier. He’s not gonna be the guy to let you down. But me telling you that, and you believing it are two totally different things.”

“So what do I do, Steve?”

“You gotta figure that out for yourself. But talking might be a good place to start.”

“Thanks. Seriously. This helped me a lot.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

~~~

Your next visitor was Tony. “So…” he started, peering over your shoulder at the leg you were halfway finished with. “Break up with him yet?”

“So… find a new way to blow up my life yet?” you fired back.

His jaw clenched. “Blew up your life by telling you the truth?”

“Blew up my life by fucking ruining everything, actually. I was happy, Tony. Actually fucking happy. And you let me have that for all of what? 30 seconds?”

“So you’d rather your happiness be fake? Be a lie then?”

“It wasn’t fake, that’s the thing! Look, I get that you hate him. I get that you and Steve were at odds with each other because of Bucky. And I get that hearing the news that he’s the reason for our parents’ death doesn’t make you exactly keen on being his friend, or having him around here. But, God, Tony! There were a million different ways you, or Bucky could have clued me in on things. And of course, you went with the one that would hurt him the most, not even hesitating long enough to think about how it would hurt me in the process. I knew you were a spiteful bastard, but this is a new low, even for you. Whatever happened to ‘it’s not my business to tell’?”

“That’s why I’m here to apologize.”

“That was an apology?”

“It would be if you let me get there.”

“Well, go on then.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I let my issues with Dad get in the way of me being there for you after they died. Not that at the age I was in any way ready or capable of taking on the responsibility of looking after a kid. And I’m sorry that it led you down a path of eventually getting caught in the crossfire of my mistakes with the company. And I’m sorry for how I handled the news of you and Barnes and the subsequent fallout.”

“Wow,” was all you could come up with to say. Tony wasn’t exactly the apologetic or remorseful type. He was the “throw money at the situation in hopes it went away” type, a classic Howard Stark trait Tony had been unfortunate enough to inherit, alongside the arrogance. And yet, here he was, apologizing to you for everything. And all you could say was, “Wow.”

“Yeah, great talk. If you connect those two wires, you should be good,” he said, nodding his chin at your leg.

You looked at it, “Oh. Thanks.”

“Yep.”

“I mean it,” you said as he started to walk out. “The apology? Thanks.”

“Yeah, if we could not mention it, that’d be great.”

You let out a small laugh. “Works for me.”

~~~

Your final visitor was Bucky. “Been wondering when you’d show,” you said, as you walked around the lab, testing the newest prosthetic.

“Yeah, I, uh… would’ve been by sooner but I got caught up in a few things.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I might have gone off on Tony after you left. And then Steve might have banned me from seeing you until I calmed down. And by the time I did that, he had already talked to you, and Tony was in here. So I talked to Steve. And… yeah.”

“You mean I missed out on another fight between you and Tony? Damn.”

“Heh, yeah… And look, I’m not here to act like an apology is going to magically make this all okay-”

“Good,” you cut him off.

He sighed. “But I am sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it.”

“Then… Could you yell at me, or something? This eerily calm thing is really freaking me out. Yell at me, Y/N. Tell me you hate me. Tell me I’m the reason you’re broken. Something. Anything.”

You paused in your small laps around the lab, looking at him in confusion. “Why would I do that? I’m not the starry-eyed prince who cries when his knight in shining armor isn’t real.”

“I- What?”

You winced at your words. “Bad analogy. I meant that I’m not the type who’s going to cry and scream every time my feelings get hurt. So if you’re waiting for that to happen, it’s not going to.”

“Y/N, please… I don’t know what to do here. I want to make this right. Tell me how.”

“There’s nothing to make right. I’m not mad at you, Bucky.”

“You’re not?”

“No! You were fucking mind-controlled for half of a god damn century. And Howard wasn’t exactly winning Dad of the Year Awards. Fuck, I can’t even find it in myself to be mad that you didn’t tell me. I’m hurt, Bucky, but I’m not mad.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, that’s the thing. And I know. I know I had so many chances to tell you, and I didn’t. But how do you tell someone that without hurting them?”

“God damn it!” you snapped, your temper flashing before you could reel it back in. “That’s not why I’m hurt, Bucky. I’m hurt that I trust you, and you feel that you can’t trust me back. I’ve trusted you with parts of me I don't let anyone even get near. Hell, I’ve known the original crew of Avengers for five years, and today’s the first time they figured out I’m an amputee. That’s how hard it is for me to let my walls down. And I let you break them like they were nothing. And as great as it is to feel chosen for once, I cannot fuckin’ stand that it’s one-sided. Trust me back, Bucky. Let me choose you back!”

He took a step towards you. “Love, I-”

There it was again. “Love.” God, did he know what he was doing to you when he called you that? “Can’t do it? Think you’re too broken, and you’re gonna scare me off?” you asked.

“No, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“I...don’t know actually.” He took a few more steps until he was mere inches from you.

“Well, you know where to find me when you figure it out.”

You turned to leave, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, twisting you back around the strength and suddenness of the movement causing a splintering sound in your newest prosthetic while you collided into his chest, both of your eyes wide. “Shit!” Bucky swore. “Okay, that was not supposed to happen.”

“Bucky…” you growled, both in agitation that your new leg was already broken, and in slight desperation of if he didn’t hold you steady soon, you were going to face-plant into the floor.

Thankfully, he understood the hint, and more. His arms snaked around you, holding you upright while his head tilted down, his lips crushing into yours. “Please choose me back?” he whispered desperately against your mouth.

“Not choosing you back was never an option, Bucky,” you assured, your arms wrapping around his neck and deepening the kiss.

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#mosaic broken hearts #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #male reader #male stark!reader #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

NMJ is the only one that knows bc he’s the only one that NHS truly trusts, he’s the only one who knows why NHS focuses so much in painting and art, NHS doesn’t know why or how but with a little bit of spiritual energy he’s able to bring what he paints in paper to the real world and with that the Nie sect has the beasts of legends under their command

on ao3

“How about you draw a flower?” Nie Mingjue said without much conviction. It was hard to have conviction when you knew it was pointless.

“No!” Nie Huaisang shouted, unsurprisingly, because toddlers always shouted. They seemed to have a great deal of feelings and sound for such small frames. “Taotie!”

Nie Mingjue grimaced. “No, no, not Taotie,” he said quickly. Never Taotie, not again. “How about the Baihu? Nice fuzzy tiger?”

“No!”

“Fenghuang? You like birds.”

Nie Huaisang considered it. “I like birds,” he agreed.

Nie Mingjue heaved a sigh of relief. “Me, too,” he said enthusiastically. “I love birds.”

He had never had especially strong feelings about birds, but he was willing to develop some.

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang said, and patted his thigh comfortingly. “I’ll draw you a bird, da-ge.”

“…thanks,” Nie Mingjue said.

When Nie Huaisang was done, he proudly presented Nie Mingjue with the results of his work.

Nie Mingjue put the baby phoenix in the new aviary he’d secretly had constructed behind his father’s back, thinking to himself that the high-grade construction materials he’d insisted on were totally worth losing his allowance for the next year.

The phoenix chick - it looked like a plucked chicken with maybe three feathers total - weakly coughed smoke.

Because of course it did.

Sometimes Nie Mingjue wished that he could just tell someone about Nie Huaisang’s unusual gift – it was a pretty big burden to bear, and he really wasn’t sure he was old enough for this type of responsibility – but no one else deserved to know. If they didn’t have the good taste to like Nie Huaisang when he was no one and nobody, pointless and useless, they didn’t deserve the benefits of knowing him now that he could do stuff.

Even if it was weird stuff.

Stuff like his ability to summoning the things he drew into existence.

Even things that might not really exist.

Besides, the thought of Nie Huaisang getting wrapped up into war and politics when he was still so young –

No, better to just store away what he made and hope he grew out of it.

And no more Taoties.

“Lan Zhan said his uncle shows people his artwork,” Nie Huaisang said, sitting on Nie Mingjue’s table in the family study. “Why don’t you ever show my artwork?”

“You do art?” their father asked absently, most of his attention on the report he was reading.

“Huaisang does great calligraphy,” Nie Mingjue interjected very quickly. “You’ve seen it – it’s beautiful. And his poems are very well crafted, too.”

“But Lan Zhan said –”

Nie Mingjue mentally resigned himself to not being friends with Lan Xichen any longer, no matter how well they’d gotten along, on the basis that the other boy would probably take it personally when Nie Mingjue murdered his brother.

“He also said stuff about rules,” he said. “Hundreds and hundreds of rules. Do you want to listen to all of those, too?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said sulkily, five years old and bitter with it. “But…”

“How about we show Lan Wangji your aviary?” Nie Mingjue coaxed. “Go ask him if he’d like to see it. I bet he’s never seen anything like that – and you can ask him what type of animal he likes best, too!”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide at the thought and he dashed off.

“You spoil him far too much,” their father commented. “An aviary – you talk about it more than he does, and you’re always getting birds to fill it up for him, too. Why are you so devoted to him learning to like birds?”

“Better than him liking fierce beasts,” Nie Mingjue said, omitting to mention exactly where he obtained the birds that filled the aviary. “Or corpses.”

“If he liked fierce beasts, perhaps he’d be more martially inclined.”

No, we would be, Nie Mingjue thought. He’d gotten a lot of spare practice with Baxia trying to fight corpses that had no business being there during the period in which Nie Huaisang had gotten temporarily interested in the things in his father’s stories – and that was before Nie Huaisang had learned about yao.

“I don’t want him growing up morbid, that’s all,” he said.

“You’re his brother, not his nursemaid,” their father said, a little exasperated. “Nor are you his mother. Why are you fussing over him so?”

Nie Mingjue huffed and shook his head. “How goes recruitment for the border?” he asked instead, and listened to his father tell him about how people barely a year or two older than him were being sent to risk death in the name of sect honor.

Not Nie Huaisang, he promised himself. Not yet.

He’d tell his father when Nie Huaisang was old enough to handle the consequences.

“Huaisang, didi,” Nie Mingjue said, and tried to smile, even though it pained him. “Can you do me a favor? A really, really big favor?”

Nie Huaisang sniffed, clutching at his arms and shaking. “What, da-ge?”

“You remember Jiwei? A-die’s saber? Can you draw that for me, please?”

It only made it worse.

“Da-ge?”

“Yes, Huaisang?” Nie Mingjue asked, scowling at the map. It didn’t get any better the longer he looked at it, but maybe if he kept glaring he could cow it into submission.

“Don’t you want me to help?”

Nie Mingjue looked up at where Nie Huaisang was wringing his hands by the door. “Help? With what?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him, like it was Nie Mingjue being dense instead of him having started a conversation in the middle. “Uh, with border defense?”

“Why would I ask you to help with that?” Nie Mingjue asked blankly, then realized how his words could be misconstrued. “Not that I wouldn’t ask you to help, of course, but you’ve never really liked battlefield strategy, and anyway you are only twelve –”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I meant drawing!”

“…as in maps?”

Nie Huaisang’s glare could light fires.

Nie Mingjue coughed and put aside his work to focus on his brother. “Huaisang, why do you think I would use your drawings in planning out a possible battle?”

“Because they’re useful?” Nie Huaisang said, crossing his arms. “I can make things appear, da-ge, just by drawing them. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but that’s not something that normal people can do.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s not. But just because it’s not normal doesn’t mean it’s not a wonderful ability, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang looked a little bit appeased.

“But just because it’s wonderful doesn’t mean I’m going to abuse your ability,” Nie Mingjue continued. “You should be playing, not working, and if anyone tells you otherwise, you tell me and I’ll straighten them out.”

Nie Huaisang came up and hugged him. “So it’s not that you’re not ashamed of me being weird and useless?”

“I think we’ve already established that an ability like yours is far from useless. And I don’t care how weird you are, principles are principles: you’re too young to be used for battle. Sorry, Huaisang; my hands are tied.”

Nie Huaisang laughed at him and left, looking much happier.

“So what would you like?” Nie Huaisang asked, eyes sparkling. “Me and my brush are at the ready, here to help!”

Nie Mingjue rubbed his forehead. “If you’re sure…”

“Da-ge! I’m seventeen – you were already sect leader for two years by my age. And it’s not like I’m going out there on the front lines or anything; I’m just going to draw some stuff for you.”

“You say ‘just’,” he grumbled. “It does drain your qi, you know. That’s why you took such a long time to form a golden core…”

“Yes, but I did get there eventually, didn’t I? And anyway, it’s fine, I’ll do it instead of my usual landscapes. What would you like? A dragon to devour our enemies? The white tiger, nipping at their heels? A taotie –”

“No Taotie.”

“You’re so weird about that,” Nie Huaisang complained, rolling his eyes again. “Fine. Then what?”

“Sabers,” Nie Mingjue said, giving in. “Standard steel, not spiritual. Horses, feed, saddles. Say, how are you at drawing arrows?”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “I can draw you the beasts of legend, and you want me to draw you arrows?”

“Yes. As many as you can bring yourself to create, really; everyone’s always short on arrows. More rice would be good, too –”

“This wasn’t exactly what I was expecting when I volunteered to help,” Nie Huaisang grumbled.

“Are you going to do it for me or not?” Nie Mingjue asked, unimpressed. “You asked me to use you, not to give you an art project.”

His brother heaved a sigh. “Yes, yes, I will. Can you explain to me why this is your choice, at least?”

Nie Mingjue ruffled his brother’s hair. “Huaisang, when you draw something, it comes to life. Fully to life, as a separate and independent creature of its own – if you draw a dragon, who’s to say that the dragon will choose to fight the Wen sect, instead of turning on us? It wouldn’t be much help if we had to run out, sabers drawn, to deal with whatever it was, only to be exhausted before the Wen sect even arrived.”

“…oh.”

“When we’ve made some progress in the field, I promise to let you help build fortifications,” Nie Mingjue said. “You can start thinking of really nasty traps –”

“Da-ge?”

“Yes?”

“…is that why you hate the idea of me drawing Taotie so much?”

Nie Mingjue coughed.

“Da-ge!”

“Don’t worry about it. It was always really good saber practice…”

“And if anyone tries anything against you at the camp, you draw something really mean, okay?” Nie Mingjue said, pressing paper and a brush into his brother’s hand in addition to the ones he’d hidden away in his luggage - there was a chance that might be confiscated upon his arrival. “I don’t care what it is.”

“I know, I know –”

“Promise me!”

“I will!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “I promise already!”

“Not just if they’re aggressive. Even if things just look suspicious –”

“Suspicious? Like what?”

“If they take you somewhere secluded,” Nie Mingjue said, face drawn with worry. “Somewhere where it’d take us a long time to find your bodies. I don’t care if you put other people in danger from your creation, okay? Don’t make me have to find your corpse.”

Nie Huaisang was silent for a moment. “I understand,” he finally said. “I promise.”

“I’m never drawing anything legendary ever again,” Nie Huaisang sniffed into Nie Mingjue’s collar. “That Xuanwu was awful. It tried to eat all of us!”

“Do you want me to help with the logistics, Sect Leader Nie?” Meng Yao asked.

“You already help with the logistics,” Nie Mingjue said, not really paying attention. If it was serious, Meng Yao would bring it to his attention �� he was a truly remarkable aide-de-camp. “You already help with everything.”

“I appreciate Sect Leader Nie’s confidence in me,” Meng Yao said, smiling a little. “But no, I meant – with the imports.”

“Imports?”

“Every week we receive new shipments of goods – food, weapons, defenses – from Qinghe, and we don’t send any money back. Surely such expenditures are putting a strain on the Nie treasury..?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Nie Mingjue said. “Huaisang is handling it. It’s good for him to have responsibility.”

Meng Yao looked a little skeptical, but in his defense, he’d met Nie Huaisang.

“Really,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “He’s not going to hurt our budget – it’ll be fine. They’ve come steadily every week so far, haven’t they?”

“If Sect Leader Nie is content, then so am I,” Meng Yao said, but he was pouting a little, perhaps at the perceived lack of trust. He did so love to be helpful.

“You know I trust you with my life,” Nie Mingjue told him. “But this is something that Huaisang is, for once, best placed to handle. Don’t worry about it.”

It wasn’t really his secret to share, after all. Maybe when the war was done.

Nie Mingjue was on his back in the throne room of the Fire Palace, staring up at the man who murdered his father and who was about to murder him, too, when he heard the sound.

A high-pitched squeal, unlike anything else he’d ever heard – a little like a pig, a little like a wolf, a little like the long slow grate of metal against metal. It burned on the ear, a vile sound on the verge of being physically painful.

“What is that?” Wen Ruohan asked, frowning. He was standing above Nie Mingjue, his foot crushing down on his chest; Baxia was out of reach, knocked away, but at least no longer in the traitor Meng Yao’s hands. “Meng Yao…?”

“I - I’m not sure, Sect Leader Wen,” Meng Yao said, looking equally confused.

Nie Mingjue laughed.

They both looked at him.

He grinned up at them, blood in his teeth.

“What?” he said. “Never heard a Taotie before?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #purple crayon #timetomakeanewwish

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Unlikely friends: Part 3

You and Azula arrive at the fire nation and soon both her parents have something to say about your relationship

Part one here

Part two here

Your POV

The fire nation was certainly more fast-paced and complicated than your small earth kingdom town. The minute you arrived you were whisked away to the throne room to see the Firelord. Apparently any royalty arriving at the palace had to immediately pay their respects to the Firelord and so you and Azula bowed to Zuko who was obviously a little uncomfortable with the whole process As soon as the formalities were over Zuko rushed forwards “Azula I’m glad you’re back, our argument...”. “It’s fine Zuzu, I am no longer angry and I am sorry for my actions”. Zuko paused “you are?”. Azula nodded looking at you before fixing her eyes back on him “yes and I promise I will try controlling my temper so it doesn’t happen again”. Zuko paused “well i...thank you, i’m sorry for my part in it as well”. Azula nodded her head and Zuko just stared “erm...you are both free to go if you wish”. Azula nodded her head “thank you brother” and turned to you eagerly.

You were proud of Azula’s handling of the situation and could tell by Zuko’s reaction he too was shocked. As Azula led you to your room you smiled at her and she caught you “what’s that look for?”. “Nothing...just I like seeing you be functional and having healthy relationships”. Azula raised an eyebrow and you sighed “I like seeing you happy in other words”. “Ow...” Azula blushed and you laughed. “Well you make me happy” she offered awkwardly and you just laughed at how cute your girlfriend was. Azula blushed and pushed some large doors open. Your jaw dropped as you looked around the room, it was beautiful, extravagant and very clearly made for royalty. “Azula...is this your room? It can’t possibly be mine!”. Azula smiled “why do you like it?”. “It’s beautiful....but too beautiful for just a few nights”. “I disagree, you are my guest here and my girlfriend will only have the best” Azula said taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Plus it’s close to my room which will come in handy”. You blushed and Azula smiled dropping your hands. This was one of the things you loved about your relationship, one second Azula was the blushing mess and the next it was you...the power balance was so even it created a constant playful tension between the two of you.

You were thinking of this as you admired everything in the room from the view out the window to the bedding (of course the fire nation had red silk sheets and you were in love) when Azula spoke. “I want to tell everyone” Azula said and you paused confused before you realised what she meant “about us?”. Azula nodded her head and you stood up straight, you knew the fire nation wasn’t too bad with this stuff but for a royal to publically go against a norm? “Are you sure?” you asked “you know I won’t be upset if you chose not to, don’t you?”. Azula nodded her head “I know but I want to, I want my mom and Zuko to know about us, I want everyone to and not just because I want to show off how lucky I am” she smirked “but because i’m ready. I meant what I said about making up for lost time y/n, I won’t spend a minute pretending not to be your girlfriend”. You blushed vividly and nodded “if it’s what you want them of course I love the idea, I want to show off too” you smiled taking Azula’s hand and she held her other to your cheek tenderly “then tonight, we walk into the party together and tell everyone publically”. You nodded your head “sounds like a plan”.

6 hours later

"Nervous?" you asked catching Azula peaking into the room and she jolted "no!". "Azula i won't be offended if you are" you smiled "i know coming out can be scary...trust me". Azula tensed but then took a deep breath "no it doesn't matter what they say, i’m happy with you and i don’t want to hide it especially after you agreed to come here with me". "You don’t owe me for that" you started but Azula cut you off "i know but i am proud you came with me...i��m proud you're dating me and i want to show it, to show how happy you make me....plus Ty lee and Mai already suspect it" Azula frowned "so i guess it’s just Zuko and mother who don’t know". "Well they say no time like the present?" you asked offering Azula your hand. Azula took it immediately "okay let's go"

The fire nation was still a bit iffy with same-sex couples but they were way better than the earth and water nations. You and Azula walked into the room and only received a handful of glances. You knew if you did this at home you'd have received a much worse reaction even with the princess beside you. Most nobels didn’t notice, the ones that did, double glanced and then looked away. You suspected Azula didn’t even notice, she was fixed on Zuko and Ursa who stood across the room. They hadn't noticed and you could tell Azula was contemplating marching up to them. Not wanting such a confrontational approach you looked around "let's go get a drink". Azula let you lead her away and you poured her a glass of a drink you knew she liked. Azula sipped it nervously and you smiled "nobodies set us on fire, that’s good?". Azula chuckled "they wouldn't dare, i have quite a reputation around here". You smiled "really i didn’t notice". Azula smiled at you adoringly when suddenly two people appeared. Ty lee’s expression told you she wanted to say a thousand things and also launch herself at you both but she was managing to restrain herself. "Hey so what’s new?" she asked in a very high pitched tone and Mai frowned. "What Ty lee means is we’re very happy for the two of you". "So happy!" Ty lee cried "Azula i know you always wrestled with this part of yourself and i’m so proud to see you confidently expressing it! You should be so proud and i’m so happy i could cry!". You looked at Azula who was watching Ty lee awkwardly. "Thanks" Azula said smiling slightly "i..really like y/n so it wasn’t that hard". "Okay now i am going to cry, excuse me” Ty lee announced and dashed for an exit while tears leaked down her face. "Ty lee" Mai called before she sighed shaking her head "i’ll go calm her down so she doesn’t make a scene but we are really really happy you're happy Azula, I mean it". You could tell Azula was both touched and shocked that the usually sarcastic stoic girl was being intimate and affectionate with her and you wondered if Mai and Azula ever had a moment like this in their years of friendship. Based on the tears in Azula’s eye and the look on Mai’s face they hadn’t. "Thank you Mai" Azula smiled and Mai returned the smile "no problem...now i should go find the drama queen, excuse me" and she followed Ty lee.

"Wow that was....really sweet" you commented and Azula nodded "it was wasn’t it?". You nodded "it took a lot for Mai to say that". "I never...i figured we'd never be friends again". "Well i guess Mai and Ty lee don’t feel that way" you smiled and Azula nodded "yeah....they're pretty great". You laughed when you caught sight of someone behind Azula. "Azula?" Ursa called and you saw Azula tense. You almost laughed as Azula grabbed your hand and spun to face her family all in one motion. "Yes" she asked defiantly and you looked to Zuko and Ursa. Zuko was staring at your hands bewildered but Ursa was only looking at her daughter's face. "I just wanted to say hello, you look beautiful tonight....you both do, y/n isn’t it?" she asked and you nodded smiling "yes, it’s nice to meet you". "You too" Ursa smiled warmly at you "Zuko’s told me about how much you've been there for each other and i want to thank you, i’m glad Azula has a...." Ursa hesitated "a person like you in her life". "You can call her my girlfriend" Azula said bravely and you smiled. "A girlfriend like you" Ursa corrected herself and you saw Azula smile. Ursa noticed Zuko still staring and nudged him. Zuko coughed looking up at you both "i had no idea you were....either of you!" he cried spinning to you "but i...of course i’m happy for you both and you look happy" he said to Azula "happier than i’ve ever seen you....at least i think it’s happiness, are you happy?". You saw awkwardness ran in the family. "I’m very happy" Azula said glancing at you and you blushed. "Well that’s all that matters" Zuko said and you smiled. Azula seemed lost for words so just nodded. "Anyway we will leave you to your evening but please join if you feel like it" Ursa smiled laying her hand on Azula’s arm "i’m really proud of the woman you’ve become Azula". "Thank you mother" Azula said shocked and Ursa smiled before walking away. Azula turned to you and you laughed "you okay?". Azula laughed in shock "i have no idea what just happened?". “I think we had a pretty good interaction with your family but how did you view it?”. Azula chuckled awkwardly “I.....It went so well! I didn’t think they’d be so accepting, for Zuko to say....and my mother’s never told me she’s proud of me” Azula’s voice broke and she looked down “it’s just a lot”. You smiled and took her hand “want to step outside and take a breather?”. Azula shook her head immediately “and hide you away? No way! This is already the best night I’ve ever had in the fire nation! We are not ending it early”. You grinned at Azula’s happiness and nodded “well if you’d like Ty lee and Mai are over there, we could go mingle?”. Azula nodded, she stood up straighter, set her shoulders back and grabbed your hand “let's go”. As you made your way over you saw Azula was still slightly nervous but that fell away the minute her friends saw her. “Azula!” Ty lee called “join us we were just talking about that teacher we had in 10th grade”. Azula laughed and slipped right into the conversation. You smiled watching her, happy to take a back seat, when Mai appeared by your side “so how are you finding the fire nation?”. You smiled at her clear attempt to make an effort with you and started chatting with the knife expert. A while later you locked eyes with Azula and both smiled seeing how comfortable the other was. Ursa and Zuko had come over and Azula was talking with her brother about a play while Ursa and Mai talked with you about your earth bending school. You were both comfortable and happy, the trip to the fire nation had been a resounding success.

7 months later

You and Azula both travelled to each other's nation often, pretty much weekly, and equally split the trips between the fire and earth nation. Your relationship continued to grow from strength to strength and all of Azula’s relationships improved. She was the closest she’d ever been to Mai and Ty lee, she and Zuko were getting on well and her mother....it was baby steps but Azula and Ursa were working out their issues constructively and becoming a proper mother and daughter. The only person Azula hadn’t made peace with was the person who’d had the greatest influence on her life, her father. But Ozai had decided it was time to see his daughter...

You arrived in the fire nation early and now used to the routine made your way to Azula’s room. You caught Azula on her way to you and jumped as you almost crashed into her. “Azula” you grinned and she smiled “y/n” and hugged you tightly. “I was just coming to greet you! I’m sorry i’m late” Azula cried and you smiled “no problem”. Azula nodded but you could see something was bothering her. “Azula are you okay?” you asked and she sighed “I have something to tell you” she sighed “it’s not good but please just let me explain”. You nodded “okay, i’m listening”. “Not here” Azula replied and led you to her room before firmly shutting the door. You watched her growing more anxious by the second until Azula eventually turned to face you. "My father, he's been asking to see me" Azula told you and you paused overcome with so many questions and feelings. You hated the man for everything he’d done and were sure nothing good could come from this."Why is he asking for you?" you asked and Azula shrugged. "Zuko’s not sure, my father just keeps saying he wants to speak with me and won’t tell Zuko what about". Ever since you’d been together Azula had lost all contact with her father and you weren’t sure if to take her clear interest as a cause for concern or not. "I want to see him" Azula told you and your stomach sank but you’d under-estimated your girlfriend. "i want to see him one last time and i want you to come with me". So much about that made you confused "last time?". Azula nodded "i have no more need of his approval so i do not wish to see him anymore but i do think i should tell him that so i can have closure". "And you want me to come with you?". Azula nodded her head "my father has a way of twisting my mind....if you're there i only have to look at you and i’ll remember why he’s incorrect, so will you come with me?". You threw your arms around Azula hugging her tightly "of course i’ll come with you! I’ll help in any way I can". Azula blushed but smiled and leant into your embrace “thanks y/n, you’re....i....”. You smiled and stroked Azula’s cheek “no words or thanks needed” and kissed her cheek softly “so when’s the meeting?”. “In 4 hours”.

Later

You and Azula followed Zuko through the endless corridors past dozens of guards until finally, Zuko stopped. "His cell is the one at the very end" Zuko said gesturing to a set of doors and Azula nodded "thank you brother we'll manage from here". Zuko nodded at Azula’s dismissal "i’ll wait outside for you" and he left the corridor. You watched him go confused before you realised why Azula wanted him to leave. She slumped against the wall and breathed heavily "y/n i’m not sure if i can face him". You took her hands "Azula you are the strongest bravest smartest person i know, you can do this. We don’t have to stay long or even let him reply, we can go inside say what we rehearsed and then leave, in and out, then it will all be over". Azula nodded "okay" and squeezed your hand tightly before looking at you "let's go". Azula led the way. She pushed the door open entering first and held it open for you. You blinked eyes adjusting to the darkness and spotted Ozai on the floor in chains. "Ah so it's true, my daughter has a female play-thing". You glanced at Azula but she didn't even blink "i’m here because Zuko asked me to come but this is the last time i’ll ever be here" Azula started, directly quoting the speech she'd rehearsed with you hours before. "Ahh running errands for your brother now? She's changed you". "I don’t owe you anything, you mistreated me for years and enough is enough" Azula continued reciting the script. "I suppose at least she is rich and beautiful but really earth scum? You could've at least picked a woman of the fire nation to disgrace yourself with, is she worth it? Now you really won’t be on the throne, they'd never take a lesbian". Azula paused in her speech and you squeezed her hand. "Is she worth it?" Ozai repeated and Azula glared. Azula crumpled her script in her hand and her eyes glowed darkly. "Yes she is! I love y/n more than i’ve ever loved anyone! She is the best thing that ever happened to me, she saved my life and i don’t care if that gets me kicked out of the 4 nations i will always choose her over you, over the crown, over the firenation and don’t you forget it!" Azula cried "you have no power over me any more father and i came here to tell you face to face that you can’t control or hurt me anyone. You are finished" Azula said sharply. With a smile she strode from the room taking you with her. As soon as the door closed Azula fell against you "y/n was that....i’m so sorry what he said about you...". "Azula don't be silly that was amazing!" you cried and Azula blinked. "It was?". "Well i’m sorry, it must’ve been horrible having your father say all those homophobic things but the way you shot him down! You were intelligent, clear not to mention hot! You were confident and just so...you" you grinned and Azula blushed. Her heart was still hammering but she was growing calmer and the things she had said were dawning on her. "Did you...i suppose you heard everything i said?". You smiled knowing what part she meant, the confession Azula made about loving you, it was the first time you’d heard Azula say that and it had struck a chord with you too. "i did...did you mean it?" you asked timidly. Azula nodded "every word, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, you did save me". "I didn’t..." you said cutting her off but Azula shook her head "you saved me" she repeated "i would choose you before anything else because i do love you, i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything my whole life, you mean everything to me y/n". Azula stared at you anxiously as she told you that and you smiled. "You mean everything to me as well but i didn’t save you, you saved yourself and i love you so much for that, i love you too". Azula blushed and kissed you. The tense event and the revelation were too much and so she just kissed you to vent some of it. The kiss lasted a while and when it was over you panted as Azula stared at you. "You have no idea how hearing you say that makes me feel". "I’d say after that kiss i have a pretty good idea" you replied and Azula smirked. "Azula?" A voice called and you jumped to see Zuko had appeared from around the corner with lots of guards. Zuko jumped just as much to see you and Azula pressed up against the wall together and he frowned diverting his eyes. Azula stepped away from you and smirked "you can look up again zu zu". Zuko looked up hesitantly before he saw it was safe and met your eyes again. "What’s going on did you....". "I spoke to father he was hateful but i told him never to ask for me again and that i was done with him. He won’t bother either of us any more". Zuko nodded "i’m pleased to hear that". Silence settled and Azula shivered “let's get out of here, this place is depressing” and Zuko led the way outside.

You smiled as the bright sunlight engulfed you and made Ozai and his words seem further away. You felt Azula take your hand and smiled glancing at her. “Thank you for coming with me” she smiled “I....you gave me the strength to face him, you make me stronger I’ve come to realise”. “Love will do that to you” you grinned in reply and Azula blushed looking down “apparently so”. “You’re adorable when you blush” you commented and Azula bumped against you with her shoulder “stop it” she whined embarrassed and you laughed loudly. Azula smiled at the sound of your laugh and you admired her smile and how genuine it was. How softly and full of love she looked at you and how happy you were together. Azula looked away first blushing but pulled you closer to her and you came willingly. Azula placed her arm around you and you smiled leaning into her. Something told you that your happiness with Azula was just the beginning of your very long lives together.

____

Ngl so kind of didn’t know how to finish it but we’ll end on a sunny walk through the fire nation! Writing about happy Azula makes me so happy, my girl just needs love and happiness 🥰

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