#very clearly pasted together from the most random of things. with a little guy pointing a sword in the middle fsr??? | 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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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Note

Reader and Steve end up exposed to something on a mission that cause them to body swap. It would be hot as hell if one of them was seeing Bucky too and he decides to have fun with their misfortune.

(okay so this is kind of a crack fic so im sorry in advance asgjakhsagdj this is the WEIRDEST SMUT I’VE EVER WRITTEN... very nsfw and a slight touch of dubcon beneath the cut.)

you’d only been in Steve’s body for a few hours when you began to understand how deprived this man was.

you hadn’t gotten his memories. you didn’t really understand how this had happened at all but you knew that for sure, because you distinctly recalled being you yesterday and now you were him. and he was fucking horny.

maybe it was you, a little bit, but this was definitely his body acting of its own accord more than it was your mind inside of it. it felt different in a guy’s body, for one. it felt so different to have need like this, so much more all-encompassing than the subtle tingling in your gut that you normally felt when you were turned on. damn, is this what it was always like for men? you weren’t sure how they ever managed to get any work done. maybe they don’t.

my cock is hard, you thought to yourself, trying to wrap your head around the concept. you tried not to look down at it as you leaned back in your chair-- his chair, actually-- but you could feel it, not just the arousal coursing through it but the head curving back and digging into your hip.

I can’t touch it, you decided, it would be invasive. he’s not here to consent to me touching his body. and you firmly believed that logic, and yet you felt your hand-- his hand-- reaching into the waistband of his uniform and pulling it out. you whimpered just to feel warmth on it, though the sound was foreign to your ears as you realized you had his voice.

you had never been good at handjobs, but it was like instinct was guiding you as you stroked the cock you found in your palm. his hands were sort of rough, something you normally liked but was not well-received in this body. but it was enough-- it was just enough to satisfy this desperation that burned in your chest. you could tell it had been so long since this cock had gotten attention from anything but this hand, you could feel how much he needed more but you, as his friend, understood why he didn’t get it. he always told you he was too busy for dating. frankly, if you got to this point, you wouldn’t really be worried about “dating” so much as “hooking up” but he was, understandably, not the type.

your head fell back as you bucked up into your hand, biting down on your lip-- and you’d always dreamed of tasting his lips, just not like this. “fuck,” you hissed, the sound of his voice mundane to his body but driving your mind wild inside his stupidly beautiful head. there was an urge to moan your own name, just to know how it would sound if he said it like this, but the idea was too weird for you go through with it.

then again, you were stuck in Steve’s body and jerking off so, ‘too weird’ was kind of a moot point.

you were jolted out of your rhythm when there was a knock at your-- his-- door.

“wh-who is it?” you stammered.

“it’s me!” you heard from the other side of the door. “or, well, it’s you!”

“shit,” you mumbled as you rushed to redress, running to the door-- you were so much faster in this body, unsurprisingly. you weren’t really psychologically prepared to open the door and see yourself there. you weren’t ready to be pierced by your own gaze, your own arms crossed in confusion.

“do you always get wet when you look at me?” Steve asked you suddenly. “or is this just me... knowing it’s you?”

you swallowed, feeling an Adam’s apple bob in your neck-- what an odd sensation.

“does my voice always sound like that?” you asked when you heard his words from your mouth.

“we need to fix this before Bucky finds me again,” he demanded, “I barely managed to toss him off me.”

“... so I guess you found out about us too?” you winced, your secret fuckbuddies relationship now out in the open.

“more than I ever wanted to know,” he frowned. his expression shifted as he looked up at you again. “what were you doing?”

“what?” you asked, and you heard your own breathlessness. “I wasn’t doing anything. you always breathe like this. don’t you have asthma?”

“I used to have asthma,” he corrected.

“yes, and now you have a vagina-- my vagina!-- so maybe we should focus on that and not you giving me this random third degree here?”

“whatever,” he scoffed, brushing past you to step into the room as you shut the door.

“you didn’t... look, did you?” you asked nervously.

“uh, no,” he answered quickly, “did you?”

“I made a specific point not to,” you announced proudly.

“oh...” he mumbled, “good...”

“sooooo...” you changed the subject awkwardly, “any plans on how to fix this?”

“I was thinking we’ll start by trying everything we can think of, and work from there,” he offered.

“good plan,” you decided. “maybe.... maybe, uh... we have to... go... somewhere? or do something?”

“go somewhere and do something?” steve repeated incredulously. “you’re a real genius.”

“don’t make that face at me, you’re gonna give me frown lines,” you sneered. “I can’t help it, okay? I can’t think! I’m distracted!”

“by what?”

“by... by stuff!” you defended, scratching the back of your neck-- it was your nervous habit, rendered entirely different by his short hair.

steve sighed, your chest rising and falling with his breath. “it’s hard, isn’t it?”

“well, yeah, switching bodies is hard--”

“no. it’s hard... isn’t it?”

your eyes went a little wide. “ohhh. uh, yeah, it is.”

“god, I’m sorry,” he groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “it does that a lot.”

“how do you do anything?” you squawked. “it’s like all I can think about is... is how bad I just need to be in something, something... warm!”

“welcome to my world,” he shrugged.

“you have to let me...” you began, but stopped yourself. “no, no, we-- no.”

“what is it?” he asked.

“you have to let me fuck you. me. you have to let... you fuck me...?”

“won’t that be, you know... scarring?”

you nodded. “but I’m not sure we have a choice, please just-- just let me-- I know I want it. I mean, I know my body wants it. didn’t you say I’m wet? I’m probably drenched by now, huh?”

he stammered a bit before answering. “um... I think so...”

“it feels warm, right? warm and sensitive and like you need to be filled with something?”

“...kinda...” he replied hesitantly.

“please,” you groaned, “don’t tell me I’m the only one that’s ever thought about it.”

“no,” he answered, quicker than ever, “no, you aren’t. you’re... you’re sure it’s okay?”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” you finally admitted, “not like this, but I’ll take what I can get--”

“fuck it,” he mumbled before pulling you into a heated kiss, and with your eyes closed you couldn’t really tell the difference of who was who anymore, you just knew that it was him touching you and you didn’t really care that his hands were smaller and that his lips were softer.

you undressed each other at lightning speed, and there was a hand on your cock-- clearly he was pulling from his own experience with his own cock, because wow, he knew exactly how to touch it to make you gasp and whimper.

“you can look,” he offered to you when he pulled back from the kiss, “I know I did.”

“did you like what you saw?” you asked hesitantly.

“better than I ever imagined,” he grinned. “I even put a finger inside you. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I’m gonna fit.”

“neither am I,” you sighed as you looked down at the thick member your own slender hand was wrapped around. “fuck, steve... it’ll probably hurt you.”

“let’s just hope we can fix this tonight and you get to be sore tomorrow, not me,” he chuckled a little.

“k-keep stroking it, please,” you sighed, “I’m already-- I think I’m close. I can’t really tell...”

“you should be able to feel it here,” he explained as he slipped his touch lower to cup your balls--

“oh,” you breathed, “this is... new...”

“oh please, it’s nothing compared to a clit,” he laughed, “that thing is sensitive.”

you realized that steve was taking much better advantage of this than you were-- while you had his body at your disposal, you needed to test out the superhuman strength. it took you almost nothing to lift your own weight onto the desk, grinning as you saw him gasp at the show of strength.

“been a while since somebody lifted you?” you asked him with a smirk. he didn’t reply, just spread his-- your-- legs and let you grind against him, just the warmth of a body enough for now even if you weren’t inside of it. you kissed him again as you pulled him closer, thrusting to let that poor, sensitive cock slide over the delicate skin beneath you.

“well, well, well,” a voice echoed from the doorway. you sat up and spun around to find Bucky, leaning around the wall with crossed arms and a satisfied smirk. “it was just a matter of time before you two got together-- we all knew it. no wonder you ran off so fast, babygirl... you had another engagement to attend to.”

“Buck, hold on--” Steve began.

“Bucky, this is not what it looks like,” you interrupted.

“then what is it?” Bucky asked with faux innocence.

you and Steve looked at each other, neither of you sure exactly how to answer that. “it’s complicated,” you answered in unison.

“don’t worry about me, I’m not jealous,” he explained. “we never said we were exclusive, no hard feelings,” he addressed Steve-- but he was talking to you. well, he was trying to talk to you, but he didn’t know he was looking at Steve. well, he was looking at you, but just your body-- oh fuck it, even you couldn’t make sense of it. “but Steve?” he chuckled. “he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. he can’t make you feel as good as I can, I know it.”

he was like a blur as he pounced on you-- your body, at least, but it was Steve that was arching his back and moaning as Bucky licked and sucked at your neck, slipped his metal hand into your shorts and apparently found your most sensitive spots instantly. Steve was already bucking up into his touch, your own moans echoing over the walls even if you weren’t the one making them.

“B-Buck, wait,” Steve protested, but he was too weak now to push him off, and too far gone into the pleasure to want to.

“feels good, hm?” Bucky purred, throwing a stray glance at you. “are you jealous?” he asked you tauntingly.

“yes,” you admitted.

“jealous cause you know how good it feels when I make you come like this?” he pressed, and you froze.

“do... do I?” you asked Steve anxiously.

“don’t look at him, look at me,” Bucky corrected firmly. him? you wondered, but before you could ask, he answered your question, turning to address Steve pinned under him. “I know it’s you, Steve.”

“what?!” you both gaped.

“she would never call me ‘pal’ like you did earlier,” Buck explained, “and she would never say no to me like you also did earlier.”

“hey!” you protested.

“and you,” he laughed, “I’d know that deer-in-the-headlights look anywhere, even on a different face.”

as embarrassing as this whole situation was, it was sort of nice to have someone else acknowledge it. it made you feel less crazy.

“I can’t keep track of this conversation while there are fingers inside of me,” Steve shivered.

“it’s weird, isn’t it?” you smiled at him. “good weird.”

“very good, very weird,” he agreed, breathing heavier as Bucky’s arm flexed from pumping his hand back and forth.

“she usually comes in just a few minutes from this,” Bucky explained to Steve, making you feel oddly exposed-- and not just because you knew they could both see the achingly-hard cock threatening to burst from the hastily-zipped pants. “I know it’s you in there, but it’s still her body... so it should still be the same, right?”

“I-I’m close,” Steve replied, making Bucky laugh.

“oh, you’re even faster, damn. go ahead and come for me-- don’t you wanna hear how she sounds when she comes?”

“yes.”

“don’t you wanna see that pussy cream all over my fingers?”

“yes.”

“then beg me not to stop,” Bucky demanded, and instinct took over.

“please don’t stop,” you found yourself saying before Steve could answer, making them both turn to you.

“I’ve got you so well-trained,” Bucky grinned before looking back down at Steve beneath him. “just like that, doll,” he repeated his instruction.

“don’t call me ‘doll,’” Steve barely managed to protest between loud moans.

“okay,” Bucky relented, “beg for me just like that, Stevie.”

“please!” Steve shouted instantly. “please... please don’t stop.”

“one more time?”

“damn it, Buck, don’t stop!” he sobbed, and you wondered if you always looked like that when you came or if it was Steve’s expression painted on your own features. Bucky, as always, wasn’t content with just one, and Steve’s eyes shot wide open as he realized that this could just keep going, over and over.

“you’re-- you’re really not gonna stop,” Steve gasped.

“he’s mean like that,” you explained with a little smirk. you were looking forward to getting back in your own body just for the multiple orgasms alone.

“how’s it feel, Stevie?” Bucky asked proudly.

“s-so good,” he answered dutifully, “so good it almost hurts. fuck it hurts... but I want more, I wanna come again.”

“mm, so greedy,” Bucky praised. “just one more, then we need to give our lonely friend some love... I bet she’s ready to make a mess in your pants just from watching me finger you--” he turned to you suddenly-- “isn’t that right?”

“yes,” you answered quickly. “p-please, Bucky, I feel so... I need you.”

“I know, babygirl, it won’t be much longer,” he promised, “I can feel your cunt clenching on me already-- come on over here and feel for yourself.”

you hesitantly stepped closer, hissing a little as Bucky’s free hand grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand closer. “see? just put your finger in beside mine, I want you to know how tight you get when I make you come.”

you took a shaky breath but did as he asked, hearing Steve’s gasp as you inserted his thick finger into your slickened channel. it definitely felt different than when you put your own fingers in yourself-- for him and for you. it was different to feel your pussy around your finger when you couldn’t feel the finger in your pussy... if that made any sense.

“three’s too many,” Steve complained.

“and yet, here we are,” Bucky winked.

“I can’t,” Steve clarified, “it’s too big.”

“aw, she always says that but then she changes her mind... you will too,” Bucky decided. “now just move like this,” he explained to you as you started to move with him, feeling the way your body responded instantly. it built up so fast as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s pace, watching Steve cry out at the same time as your walls tightened around the assortment of fingers-- Steve and Bucky’s, flesh and metal-- inside you.

“you’re close,” Bucky informed both of you. “feel the way that pretty pussy is getting so wet, holding on so tight?”

“y-yes,” you shivered, trying your best to ignore the pangs of need coursing through the cock you still struggled to acknowledge as your own.

“go ahead and come, Stevie,” Bucky encouraged, and that was all it took; Steve cried out as your whole body spasmed-- not just your body, but the body you were in. You were coming, much to your dismay, without even being touched, ropes of hot come creating a wet patch on Steve’s uniform, and you couldn’t bit back the groans of pleasure as your gut flexed with each wave of the orgasm.

“oh, now look at that,” Bucky purred as he looked back and forth between Steve and yourself. “you two both made a mess.”

“aw damn it, my uniform!” Steve protested as he looked at you.

“I think you need to help our girl clean up that mess,” Bucky cooed as Steve shot him a look. “it’s been too long since you got your dick sucked... and I’ve always felt it’s your responsibility to solve your own problems.”

“I... I don’t know how,” Steve protested.

“I’ll show you,” Bucky promised as he guided Steve to kneel in front of you, helping you push down your trousers. “just lick up some of that come first, nice and slow.”

you gasped the second you felt a warm tongue against your skin, your hands reaching out and finding a comfortable place to grip on your own hair-- and Steve moaned when you pulled on it.

“you like the taste of your own come, Stevie?” Bucky purred. “now put it in your mouth-- just the head, you might not be able to fit much else. suck on it like a popsicle.”

you bit back a moan that wouldn’t been embarrassingly loud when you felt a warm, slick mouth wrap around where you were now much too sensitive.

“look down, babygirl,” Bucky whispered to you.

“I-- I can’t,” you denied, “I can’t look.”

“but you look so pretty when you suck cock, doll, haven’t I told you a million times?”

you sighed but obeyed, opening your eyes and looking down at Steve looking up at you, but with your eyes, and with your lips stretch around his thick shaft. “I... I do look pretty,” you agreed nervously.

“did you always wonder what Steve looks like when he’s getting his cock sucked?” Bucky asked you as he knelt down beside your body where Steve was using it for the moment. “The answer is... very confused.”

“that might be unique to this situation,” Steve explained as he pulled away from you.

“keep sucking, whore, I didn’t say you could stop.”

that language made you both moan softly, but Steve obeyed.

“oh, we are going to have so much fun,” Bucky chuckled excitedly, and you already knew that you were in for a very long night.

#stucky x reader #i have no idea how to tag this #Anonymous

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

Note

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.

“You’re not...”

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #jealous petra ral #modern au #erwin smith #hange zoe #moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #light angst #fluff #women supporting women #no petra slander allowed #womens history month

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kpop---scenarios · 3 years ago

Text

Torn Apart (2 Final)

Pairing: Surprise! x Reader

Warning: Smut, Sadness, Angst Maybe? Mean People

Word Count: 5.4k

It had been weeks.

Weeks of sobbing into your pillow, weeks of feeling like things were going to get better, until you found the most insignificant thing that belonged to Chanyeol and you broke down all over again. You missed him. You missed his touch, his warmth, his smile, the way he made you laugh when you were sad. You missed it all. You were broken, and it was all Chanyeol's fault.

Until you scrolled through Instagram, and saw pictures of him with Maya, that bitch. You had never hated anyone in your life until you had met her. You couldn't even begin to fathom what even slightly redeeming qualities Chanyeol saw in her, but apparently there was something to that wench.

You were curled on your couch in the fetal position as you cried at the ending of Strong Girl Bong Soon. You wished you had a love like that. The way An Minhyuk loved Bong Soon was the relationship you wanted, the one you would strive for. He loved her so much and you just wanted to be loved by someone like that.

You groan loudly as your doorbell rings, and then whoever pounds on your door. You didn't want visitors, you didn't care who it was, you wanted to hermit.

"What?" You yelled from the other side of the door.

"Y/N, let me in." You hear from the other side. You recognized the voice immediately.

"Baekhyun, I look like a troll. Kindly leave." You sigh.

"Y/N, if your trolly ass doesn't let me in, I will break down your door." He threatens, which makes you laugh for the first time in days. You both knew he would never be able to do that, and he would likely end up hurting himself.

"Baek, you would break your leg." You say, pulling the door open. On the other side was a sympathetic Baekhyun, who had tissues, ice cream, chocolate and a bag full of movies. You smile at his kindness. "You know I have Netflix right?"

"Shut the fuck up and move, this shit is cold." He barks, moving past you and into your kitchen. "Look, I have all the necessities. We will get you through this. Because I for one, cannot stand the sight of Mayeol and I want to gouge my eyes out, and I need someone to do it with."

"I don't understand how that has anything to do with me." You say, grabbing two spoons.

"Sehun is gone, he's so in love with those two, hes bordering being a psychopath, Jongdae and his wife are just tolerating, Suho, Kai and Kyungsoo are avoiding them like the plague and Minseok and Lay have been MIA, so you're my last hope, Y/N."

"I really don't want to talk about him, Baek." You admit, the hole in your heart somehow feels larger than before.

"That's fine, I'll stop, let's start a movie." He suggests, grabbing a random one out of his bag.

And for the next few hours, that's all you guys did. You watched movies, making comments, laughing and you genuinely had a good time with him. It had been so long since you actually felt happy and you were grateful to Baekhyun for bringing at least a little joy back into your life.

Until he left, and you were alone again. All the feelings came rushing back, except they hurt a little less this time. You didn't miss him quite as much.

The next day, at the same time, your doorbell rang again. You open the door, your eyes puffy and bloodshot and you see Baekhyun standing there again, a new flavor of ice cream in hand, a new kind of chocolate, and a new bag of movies. This time he said nothing to you, instead pushed his way past you and through the door, setting everything down on your living room table as he popped in the movie. You smiled to yourself before turning around to join him, it felt nice to be cared about, and the fact that he was going out of his way to do this for you, and make you feel better. You truly appreciated Baekhyun.

As he sat there and watched the movie, you watched him. The way his eyes lit up at a part of the movie he enjoyed, the face he made when he took a bite of his ice cream, the wrinkle he had in his nose when there was a cheesy scene. You never truly noticed how handsome Baekhyun was until now. His distinct jawline, his large hands, his toned body, you briefly.. very briefly began to wonder how large his..

"No Y/N, no. Do not go there with your existing bestfriend."

You quickly shake off the thought, moving your eyes to the TV screen, trying to focus.

"How are you feeling today?" Baekhyun asks, sliding his phone back into his pants pocket.

"A bit better, I guess." You answer. Before Baekhyun could say anything there was another knock at the door. "That's good." He smiles, standing up. "There are some people who wanna see you." He says, opening the door.

Minseok, Suho and Kyungsoo file through the door, looking at you with pity as they all sit, surrounding you.

"Hiiiii." Suho pouts, protruding his bottom lip. "How are we feeling today?"

"Um, hi." You laugh. "I'm fine."

"Oh good, so we can go." Kyungsoo pipes up, standing up and walking towards the door.

"Sit." Minseok sighs, pointing back at the seat. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, shuffling back to his spot and flopping down.

"She's fine, Chanyeol is fine, so why are we here? Everyone is fine." He groans.

"Have you seen him? Is he fine?" You hesitantly ask. You weren't even sure if you wanted to know.

"Oh he's more than fine." Kyungsoo groans. "He and Maya are all over each other all the time. It's honestly nauseating. Like I want to be able to eat my sandwich without hearing your girlfriend moan when you kiss her." He gags.

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head, tears welling in your eyes. These were most definitely details you did not need to hear about your ex and the girl he cheated on you with. All the men whip their heads to look at you, who now had your head hanging low as your shoulders shaked. They all look back at Kyungsoo, with only one speaking up.

"That's it." Baekhyun growls. "Kyungsoo, get out." He spits, pointing to the door.

"What did I do?" Kyungsoo asks, innocently. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, looking at you, softly whimpering into the sleeves of your sweater.

"Out. Now." Baekhyun says, giving him the middle finger before flinching as Kyungsoo stands up, whispering "Don't hurt me."

"Don't listen to him." Minseok sighs. "Kyungsoo has zero social cues, he also could not read a room if his life depended on it."

As Kyungsoo opened the door to leave, in rushed Lay, who looked at the man leaving and just nodded his head, realizing he had probably said something rude and was asked to leave. It wasn't the first time and would not be the last either.

"Y/N." Lay breathes. "How do you feel about tall, muscular men who sing?" He asks.

"I do enjoy them. Why?" You ask.

"I have a friend from the hospital.. I think you two would get along really well. He's in his third year of surgery residency and is looking to date. I may have shown him your picture and he instantly said yes." He tells you.

You look around the room, Suho and Minseok are nodding enthusiastically, while Baekhyun sits with his arms crossed against his chest, and a pouty look on his face.

"What do you think?" You ask Baekhyun. He looks up at you, his face softening immediately.

"I uhh, it's up to you. Yanno, if you're into muscular, tall men.." he mumbles.

"You know what? Sure, yes, I will. Chanyeol and Maya are out there living their best lives while I'm sitting here sulking, mourning a love that clearly didn't mean as much to him. So yes I will go out with him." You announce, perking up already. "When?"

"Tonight." Lay says. "More specifically, an hour."

"I need to get ready." You smile, jumping from your seat to rush to your room. You slowly peak your head around the corner, softly smiling at your friends. "Thank you, you guys. You've all really helped me these last weeks. I greatly appreciate you all." You finish, heading back into your room to quickly throw yourself together.

By the time you were done, you had 15 minutes to spare, and you were damn proud of what you accomplished in the last 45 minutes. You showered and shaved to become a hairless human from the eyelashes down, you managed to get the knots out of your hair and it looked in decent shape, as well as hide the semi-permanent redness of your eyes with a lot of makeup. You almost didn't recognize yourself in the mirror when you looked. You didn't see the heartbroken girl anymore, you saw someone confident, hot and worthy of a great love.

Stepping out into the living room you blush at all the 'oohs and ahhs' from your friends.

Except for Baekhyun.

When you looked at him, his eyes shined and for some reason it made your heartbeat a little faster. You watched his eyes trail up and down your body, seemingly taking in every curve, every inch of you. When he notices you staring, he clears his throat and looks away. "You look prettyish." He mumbles as he walks away, there's a knock at the door. Baekhyun is the one to answer and looks up at the tall man.

"You must be.." he begins, moving out of the way, letting the man walk in.

"Hi." He smiles at you. "I'm Matthew." He says, holding out his hand.

"Hi Matthew." You grin. "Y/N." You finish, introducing yourself.

"It's really nice to meet you. You look phenomenal." He says, holding your hand up to spin you around. You can't help but let out a loud laugh as a blush spreads across your cheeks.

"Thank you." You whisper. "Shall we?"

He waves to Lay and everyone else before taking your arm in his and leading you out the door. You left three excited men behind you and one who felt annoyed but didn't quite know why.

You hadn't laughed so hard until tears rolled down your cheeks and you held your stomach for a very long time. You honestly were surprised at how much you and Matthew had in common. You both enjoyed the same type of music, food, and pastimes. You had yet to meet someone who loved the same authors as you, who enjoyed doing your favorite activities and who genuinely seemed like a great person but here he was, sitting right in front of you at this nice restaurant.

"I have to admit something." Matthew begins. Your stomach drops as you feel like he's going to tell you he's married or has a girlfriend, something that's going to make you lose trust in men, again.

"Go on." You say, forcing a smile before taking a sip of your drink.

"I really like you." He grins. "It's insane, I have never met someone I had so much in common with until tonight."

"I was just thinking the same thing." You laugh, feeling relieved at his confession. You liked Matthew, he seemed as though he would be good for you and treat you right, although you thought that Chanyeol would do the same and look how that turned out.

Beep

Matthew's pager beeps incessantly. He takes it from the waistband of his pants, checking the page and stands up abruptly. "I'm so sorry." He sighs. "I have to go, there was an accident and I'm needed in the OR." He explains.

"Go." You say, waving your hands to emphasize.

"I had a wonderful time Y/N, and I hope I get to see you again." He grins. He places down a few hundred bills on the table before kissing your hand, and with a wink he was off and your heart was pumping fast as red spreads across your cheeks.

Oh boy.

Your blush is still present as you walk through the door of your apartment. You see Baekhyun sitting on your couch with his arms crossed as he watches a show, not even acknowledging your presence.

"Why are you still here?" You ask, tossing your purse on the chair.

"I wanna hear all about Matthew." He mimics, rolling his eyes. "How was your date?"

"It was really nice. We have a lot in common, which is strange. He seems really nice and we get along amazingly. He was paged into surgery so it ended early." You tell him. "So cool."

"Oh wow, surgery huh?" Baekhyun says, nodding his head. "Did I tell you I'm auditioning for a band?" He smiles.

"Are you really?" You ask, a little shocked.

"Maybe." He says, clearing his throat, turning back to the show.

You sit beside him, you dress riding up just a little to expose your thigh. You're focused on the show, barely realizing that Baekhyun has now rested his hand on your bare thigh, his thumb lightly rubbing the same spot.

Why did you feel butterflies? Why was your pussy throbbing? It's probably just friendly, there's no way Baekhyun has feelings for you.

Right?

As the show played on, your eyes became increasingly droopy, feeling the exhaustion and excitement of today finally catching up with you. Your eyes slowly close as you lean your head back onto the couch.

You weren't sure when it happened, but you woke up, what you're assuming is a few hours later with your head on Baekhyun's lap while he gently rubbed your head, running his fingers through your hair. Your body shivered at the gentle sensation and you closed your eyes once again, feeling safe and happy as you dozed off.

When you woke up the next morning, you were laying on the couch, alone with a blanket draped over you. Your eyes searched your apartment and there was no sign of Baekhyun. You had no idea when he had left but a part of you felt a little hurt that he left without saying goodbye to you. You rolled yourself off the couch and shuffled into your room, changing your clothes to something more comfortable.

When you were done you made your way to the kitchen to find food when your front door opened. In walked Baekhyun with a large bag from your favorite food place.

"You didn't." You grin. "It's so far away."

"I did, and it was worth it to see the look on your face." He laughs, setting the bag down on the table.

The two of you sit down, and have breakfast together and chat. You hadn't realized that Baekhyun actually had a lot in common with you as well. You didn't know why the two of you had never talked about these things but you felt like it was a crazy coincidence that two men match with you so well. Although you knew Baekhyun's feelings were strictly platonic, there was no way that he felt anything romantically for you.

"I gotta go to work, but we'll hang out later, if you're up for it?" He asks, throwing his garbage away.

"Of course." You smile. You look in his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes and you just want to melt. You liked Baekhyun, alot. Maybe it was just from how good he's been treating you lately, or maybe the feelings were real, you would never know because you were going to focus on changing your feelings for Baekhyun to feelings for Matthew, someone you knew you actually had a chance with.

Later that day you were doing some work on your computer for the company you work for, luckily you're able to do your work from home, giving you plenty of time to be free during the day for activities. You're brought out of your zone by a text from Matthew, asking you if you wanted to grab a late lunch around 2pm, and immediately your mood changed, and you happily replied that you would love to.

At 1:50pm, you sat at the restaurant, a drink in front of you while you waited for Matthew. Seeing him walk through the door, your heart did a mini dance as he smiled at you, heading towards the table you had already gotten.

"Hey there beautiful." He grins, sitting across from you.

"Hi." You giggle. "How has your day been?"

"Busy and stressful, but that's all been forgotten now that I have you in front of me." He says. You smile widely, burying your head in your hands. He was so sweet, and you didn't know how to react to it. After the two of you order, you're in the middle of a conversation about a movie you had each recently watched, when out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone familiar. You look over and at a table that was too close for your liking sat Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Maya. Your attitude, demeanour and mood completely changed when you noticed them. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. You look at Matthew who instantly looks concerned.

"What's wrong? Did I say something?" He asks, leaning in closely to whisper to you.

"T-that's my ex.. and the girl he chose over me, and his best friend who I'm still friends with." You whisper, nodding your head towards them.

Matthew discreetly looks over and notices the blonde man looking in your direction, pain in his eyes from the moment he saw you.

"Look at me." Matthew whispers. You look up at him, trying to control the tears. "That boy is an idiot for giving you up. You are one in a million. You're smart, funny, beautiful, caring and an all around amazing person to be around. Don't give them anymore of your tears, princess. They don't deserve them, and you don't deserve to cry over them." He smiles.

You sit up, taking a deep breath, smiling at the man across from you, staring at his beautiful smile. You glance over to the table and see Chanyeol staring at you, sadness in his eyes while Maya glares at you and Baekhyun, he stares at you with what seems like a look of anger. He glares in your direction, his face like stone and you had no idea what you did to make him so mad at you.

"Would you like to go somewhere else?" Matthew asks.

You nod your head, knowing you didn't want to be in the same restaurant as Mayeol, it was bad enough to have to be in the same city as them. Matthew grabs the check, escorting you out, his hand hovering over your backside as you walk out, the feeling of eyes watching you burning into your back as you exit the restaurant. You and Matthew stand outside your door, and he smiles at you. "I'm sorry about the date." He sighs.

"It wasn't your fault. If anything I should be sorry." You say.

"You did nothing wrong." He tells you. "I have to get back to the hospital now, but I'll call you." He says, leaning down he presses his lips to yours quickly before pulling away and saying goodbye.

You walk into your apartment, feeling a little confused. That didn't go how you imagined it at all. As you're trying to get out of your sundress, there's a knock at the door before someone walks in. You turn around and see Baekhyun standing there, watching you.

"You looked pretty comfortable and intimate with what's his name." He blurts out, walking towards you. He stands closely behind you, you can feel his breath on your neck as he pulls down the zipper of your dress.

"Yeah well you looked pretty comfortable with fucking Maya and Chanyeol." You retort, trying to storm away from him. Your dress slips off your body, landing on the floor. Baekhyun follows you, reaching out to grab your wrist. He spins you around to face him. He pulls your body closer to his.

"What do you want?" He asks. You don't answer, your lips parted as you try to form a sentence. Baekhyun's eyes drop down to your lips. He licks his lips and sighs. You can feel his breath, so close to you, almost kissing you. "What do you want from me, Y/N?" He asks.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. You look into his eyes, one word on the tip of your tongue.

You. Just say it. You want him. Tell him.

But you say nothing.

Baekhyun sighs. "That's what I thought." He says, moving away from you and picking up your dress from the floor. He hands it to you, leaning in to press his lips against your temple. "Call me when you know what you want." He says, walking away from you and out the door.

What did that mean? Did he want you like you wanted him? Why couldn't you have just told him right then and there?

You were scared. You were scared of rejection, you were scared he didn't mean it, maybe his feelings towards you weren't real. But then again, you would never know unless you talked to him.

Later that night you laid in your bed, thinking about Baekhyun. You couldn't sleep, so you grabbed your purse and your keys, drive aimlessly around town. A little while later, you glance at the clock that reads 2am, you park your car and you pull out your phone and call him. You felt like you were going to vomit as the phone rang.

"Hello?" A groggy voice answered.

"You." You whisper through the speaker. "I want you."

"Y/N." He breathes.

"Open the door, Baekhyun." You whisper.

You can hear him get out of bed and stomp towards the front door. He pulls it open and there you are, your phone pressed against your ear, wearing a nightshirt and shorts.

"I want you." You say again, pulling the phone away from your ear.

Baekhyun pulls you inside, slamming the door behind you before pinning you against the front door.

"Fuck it." He groans, crashing his lips against yours, pulling your body in closer to his. His hands roaming your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands move under your shirt and up your torso, cupping a bare breast. He groans into the kiss as he pinches your hard nipple, rolling it between his fingers. He presses his crotch into your leg, allowing you to feel his hard cock pushing against his boxers.

You reach your hand down, sliding it into his waistband, grabbing his cock and slowly pumping, making his knees buckle.

"Fuck." He murmurs, breaking the kiss. He leans his head into your neck, placing small kisses as you stroke his cock.

Suddenly he stands up straight, pulling your hand from inside his boxers. He grabs your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

"Take off your clothes." He growls.

You maintain eye contact as you slip your shirt off your body, dropping it to the floor and the shimmy off your shorts, letting them pool around your ankles. You stand there naked in front of Baekhyun who takes in every curve and crevasse of your body.

"Get on the bed." He whispers. You move to the bed, slowly climbing on and laying on your back.

"So fucking beautiful." He moans, crawling on top of you. "I just wanna be inside you." He whispers. You nod your head, giving him all the consent he needs.

Baekhyun spits on his hand, pumping his cock. He lifts your legs over his shoulder before lining him up with your entrance. He pushes himself into you, stretching your pussy out, making you cry out loudly.

It had been so long for you, you forgot what it felt like to be fucked. Your hands grip the bed sheets as Baekhyun slides his cock in and out of you slowly.

"How do you want it, baby?" He asks, moving slowly still.

"Faster." You moan. "Fuck me Baekhyun."

His eyes become dark after hearing your words. His hands wrap around your ankles as he starts thrusting harder into you, the sound of skin slapping fills the room.

"Oh god." You cry out, your hands cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples as he pumps his cock into you.

Baekhyun releases one of your legs, placing his thumb between your lips to rub your clit. He rubs in circles, making you clench around him.

"Just like that." You cry out as you buck your hips. You knew you were going to cum soon, you hadn't had an orgasm since Chanyeol left.

"Fuck." Baekhyun groans.

"I'm gonna cum." You scream as he fucks you harder, and continues to rub you.

Your orgasm hits you, making you scream out in pleasure, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tighten around Baekhyun once again.

He groans loudly, suddenly cumming, shooting his load inside of you, breathing heavily as he works through his orgasm.

"Holy fuck." He sighs, pulling out of you. He lays next to you, and you snuggle into him, not caring about the mess, just being completely and utterly happy in the moment.

"So.." Baekhyun starts off the next morning, as you lay in his bed, tangled in his sheets. You have one leg and one arm sprawled across him as you snuggle in closer to him. "What about Matthew?" He asks.

"I called him yesterday after you left, and I told him I didn't think things were going to work out, but I would like to remain friends." You explain.

"And he was fine with that?" He asks.

"He asked if there was someone else." You sigh. "I told him I wasn't sure, but I hoped and he wished me luck."

"I didn't like you seeing him." Baekhyun admits. "It hurt but I felt like I couldn't do anything." He says.

"Why?" You ask.

"Because.. Chanyeol is my best friend and you were his." He tells you.

"Chanyeol made his decision, and he chose Maya. I'm free to date whoever I want, and I want you." You whisper.

"Oh baby girl." Baekhyun growls. "You have no idea what you do to me." He whispers, rolling over on top of you, pressing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in closer to you, never having felt so wanted or loved.

It has been a few months of you and Baekhyun dating, and you've kept it under wraps for the most part, wanting to stay in your little bubble of happiness. But now your friends were getting suspicious and you felt like it was time to tell them. And what other perfect time to tell them then at a dinner party that everyone is attending.

That night you and Baekhyun had brought a spinach and artichoke dip that you made together and it was the best thing ever. You told Jongdae and his wife the news first, and they were both extremely happy for the both of you.

Next, Minseok, Suho, Kyungsoo, Kai and Lay were told and they were all happy for you two, except Lay who was disappointed that things didn't work with Matthew, but he was happy that you were happy.

You all sat around the dinner table when Chanyeol, Sehun and Maya walked in. Things instantly got tense and quiet the minute they entered the room. They hadn't noticed you yet and you could feel the knots forming in your stomach.

"Hey guys." Chanyeol smiled, looking around the room and then his eyes landed on you and his smile dropped.

"Hi friends." Maya chirps up, not realizing you were there until Sehun pointed it out, quite loudly and rudely.

"Why is she here?" He asks, nodding his head towards you.

"Because she's our friend." Jongdae pipes up, glare at Sehun.

"It's just weird." Maya comments, sitting down at the table. You ball your hands into fists under the table. Baekhyun reaches under the table, grabbing your hand to calm you down, showing you he's there and has your back.

"It's not weird, actually." Baekhyun pipes up. "What's weird is coming to a gathering when you know no one here likes you. That's weird." He says, looking at Maya.

"Baek." Chanyeol sighs. "She's my girlfriend." He says, as if that's a good enough reason.

"Okay." Baekhyun says. "And she's mine." He says, nodding towards you. "So tell your girl to show some respect."

"You're what?" Chanyeol asks, staring at you and Baekhyun, not even acknowledging the fact that Maya is sitting there with her mouth open and offended. "You're dating my ex-girlfriend?"

"I am." Baekhyun says, not caring about Chanyeol's reaction anymore.

"You.. you can't do that." He says.

"And why not?" Baekhyun wonders. "You left her. You chose that over this amazing woman. You have no right to be angry here. You broke her, tore her apart and I'm putting the pieces back together."

"I don't want her here." Maya pouts.

"And no one wants you here." You chime in. You were tired of her and she had only been here for a few minutes.

"Chanyeol." She whines, nudging him but he's still not paying attention to her, only looking at you and Baekhyun.

"So.. what did you guys bring?" Lay asks, nodding towards their dish.

"Buffalo chicken dip." Maya says, with a smile.

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes. "You mean you're still making the recipe that Chanyeol and I made together?" You ask with a smile on your face.

Maya's smile instantly drops, looking at you with disgust. "Chanyeol." She yells.

"What?" He snaps, turning to look at her.

"Do something." She whines.

"You don't have to do anything, man. We're gonna go. Thanks for having us, Jongdae. It's been interesting." Baekhyun says. He looks at you and holds out his hand. "Ready?" He asks you. You smile at him, taking his hand and walking out, hand in hand with the man who made you the happiest you've been.

A few days later you're in your apartment, singing and dancing as you clean up the place. You no longer missed Chanyeol, his name no longer brought pain to your heart, seeing things that reminded you of him no longer made you cry. You had Baekhyun now, and he treated you like a queen.

You're walking past your front door when you hear a faint knock. You open it slightly and see an exhausted looking Chanyeol standing on the other side.

"Can we talk?" He asks.

You didn't want to hear what he had to say, but you decided to be nice and let him in.

"What?" You ask, sitting on your couch as he stands in front of you.

"I fucked up." He blurts out. "I should have never chosen Maya over you. I didn't realize what I was doing at the time, Y/N, please forgive me. I miss you. I miss us. We were great together." He breathes.

You're shocked. You had spent weeks crying over him, wishing for him to come to you and say these words to you but now it was too late.

"You're a little too late now." You say to him.

"I know you're with Baekhyun, but I had you first." He says.

You scoff at him. "How dare you? How could you come here months after you left me for Maya and beg for me back when I'm finally happy again? It took a long time for me to be okay. Baekhyun has been there for me, he was the one who helped put me back together. You chose Maya. You made your bed." You yell. "Get out Chanyeol."

"Y/N please." He begs.

"No, you need to leave. I don't want you. I don't love you anymore." You tell him.

Chanyeol walks out the door, looking back at you with tears in his eyes. You felt no remorse for him. You had felt the way he was feeling, it was his own fault and you refused to be torn apart by him again. Chanyeol was now your past, and Baekhyun was your future and you couldn't be happier about it.

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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ok. karin vs anakin's genome being 50% the Force. go

Jesus fuck, okay. Uh, fair warning, I know very little about this subject, so it’s 90% bullshit. I am in no way qualified to talk about biology past the high school level.

Anakin's sixteen. He's part of a set of Jedi assigned to a weird mission regarding making contact with an isolated planet of near-humans with superpowers but no space travel. He doesn’t really have a Job here and now, he’s just there as Obi-Wan’s plus-one. There's an underlying plot about Sidious trying to acquire people from Ninja Land, but none of the Jedi are fully aware of it. Mostly they're distracted by all the ninjas and their bitching.

They call it the Shinobi Planet, because nobody can agree on a name for the planet when they ask and the last major international alliance was named after the shinobi profession, right? Good enough, you can change it later when you idiots can agree on literally anything, oh my god. The Samurai are very offended and it's a whole thing.

Anakin wanders a lot. He runs into various strange people and is mostly polite because, listen, half his friends are distinctly not human. When your immediate circle includes nautolans and besalisks and twi’leks and whatever the fuck Yoda is, you’re not gonna blink at a Hoshigaki or... uh... okay that kid just turned into a giant fox, is anybody gonna--no? That’s normal? Just him? Cool, cool, cool.

There’s a kage summit involved in the negotiations going on. IDK what’s being negotiated, probably something to get the ninjas to set up a singular spaceport so there’s somewhere to land WITHOUT ships being regularly shot down by village defense systems powered by that massive flaming purple skeleton warrior or the girl who punched down a mountain or the.. the literal desert? There’s a guy that can control the desert? Is there any way of keeping him away from Anakin?

(Gaara’s tickled pink that the reason someone wants to stay away from him has nothing to do with fear or respect for authority, and everything to do with ‘he is also from the desert and fucking hates it, so he’s staying away from the sand powers,’ because it’s very novel and kind of funny.)

ANYWAY where was I. Uh. Right, kage summit, lots of villages, they invite smaller villages to pitch in, but nobody ever ever ever wants Orochimaru anywhere near this situation, for hopefully obvious reasons, so Otogakure sends Karin.

Really, who else was it gonna be? Suigetsu? You want Suigetsu representing you on an interstellar political field? You want Juugo before he’s stabilized? You want Sasuke, master of ruining kage summits? You want these idiots representing you at the big kids’ table?

They send Karin. She’s a bitch with a temper, but at least she’s not as big of a political risk as... literally anyone else from the snakepit.

Anyway, Anakin wanders around, meeting people, trying foods, showing off when asked for demonstrations. He doesn’t have an Entire Protocol Droid, but he did cobble together a little floating helper that can do translations for him. Assume all translations are accurate and being done by the little helper bot. Bot’s name is G1-0T. Anakin calls it Glot.

He runs into Karin at one point, who’s not super into the whole situation, but at least Anakin’s interesting. She’s not interested in him, because he’s sixteen and she’s like... mid-twenties. And his hair is stupid. But! All these force-sensitive people feel weird to her, because sensor stuff, and it’s not chakra but it’s... something. Anakin is, of course, the weirdest.

(There are non-sensitives in the envoy, so she knows it’s not just a space thing.)

She strikes up a conversation about it, because hey, she hasn’t made it this far to not lean into... you know, being the kind of person who barges ahead with Weird Questions that might lead into fun science stuff.

Anakin is like. Well. This woman’s very strange, but it’s not like there’s anything against talking about midichlorians to random people. It’s easy enough to look up in the core. Not everyone knows about them, but it’s not a secret or anything.

“Wow,” Karin says, though not in so many words, “that sounds incredibly strange, and actually a lot like it functions completely differently from chakra, though maybe it intersects with nature chakra somehow. Can I take a blood sample?”

Anakin doesn’t want to give a blood sample to a stranger. Karin isn’t stupid enough to try to steal one. She’s seen what this Force Stuff can do, and this kid’s got a lot of it. She hasn’t got enough information on hand about it to know if he’d notice.

“How about I let you look at the blood of a guy that can turn into water?” Karin asks, because she’s not going to let him look at her blood. “I’ve got it with me.”

“...why?” Anakin asks, reasonably disturbed.

“He owes me,” she says, and does not elaborate.

“What, there’s nothing weird about your blood to share?” Anakin demands, like the ornery little bastard he is.

“People took my blood against my will for over a decade,” Karin says, with the kind of smile that threatens a stabbing. This is not secret information. Her healing factor is in the bingo book. Plenty of people still want her dead. “Nobody gets my blood except me.”

Anakin has no idea what to do with that answer. Most people wouldn’t know what to do with that answer. It’s not exactly a standard answer.

“So there is something weird about your--e chu ta what the fuck are those scars?”

Karin looks at her arm. She looks back at him. She raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think they are?”

He stares a little longer, and then very carefully does not say anything as she pushes her sleeve back down.

“So can I look at your blood?” she asks again.

“Uh--”

“You can look at mine under a microscope,” she wheedles. “You can’t take any, though.”

Anakin... does eventually agree. Eventually.

-----------

There is a very angry redhead yelling at a machine, and Anakin does not know what to do.

“Is something wr--”

“What the fuck is your blood?” she demands. “It’s glowing in ultraviolet. It burned the dye up. I tried to sequence your genome--”

“Woah, I did not agree to that.”

“--and look at this. Look at this!”

“I don’t know how to read your graphs. None of this is a language I know.”

“It’s garbage,” she hisses at him. Glot takes a few moments to process it. “Look at this. This is supposed to--fuck, where’s the Jiraiya file, he’s standard--this is what it’s supposed to look like for most humans with chakra. And this is a civilian, and a few bloodline users--”

“Do you just carry these around with you?”

“Shut up, you don’t exist. You have--you have more in common with summons than people. I ran a blood test on one of your human diplomats, the ones that aren’t monks--”

“When did they agree to that?”

“They didn’t, I’m just sneaky.”

“I should tell Obi-W--”

“STAY THERE, I’M NOT DONE YELLING YET. Do you see this? Do you see this shit? This is the one and only time I’ve managed to perform any kind of analysis on a bijuu. They don’t usually have blood. Shukaku is sand. Matatabi is literally just fire. This was almost impossible to make happen, but I did it because I’m a dedicated biomedical resea--”

“Because you’re unhinged.”

“--rcher, and you know what? You know what I’ve found?”

“What?”

“Your blood looks like you’re half demon,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking, a little wild-eyed and clearly pissed at him. “Half of it’s human! Half of it looks like the non-physical chakra manifestations that were torn-apart remnants of a godlike demon. The fuckers can’t die. They also can’t breed. They don’t have reproductive organs! This isn’t just demon-tainted like a jinchuuriki, I’ve got that analyzed--”

“Why?”

“Because my cousin’s a moron, don’t change the subject. You--you shouldn’t exist. Your blood is stupid. Fuck, is this what I’d find if I analyzed the Sage of the Six Paths?”

“The what?”

She ignores him, frowning at papers. “Is--I need to call Haruno, she might still have some of Kaguya’s blood dried on her old gloves from the war, I know she kept those as a souvenir from the whole ‘punched a god’ thing.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“There was a thing a few years back, godlike alien demon princess who got sealed into a moon by her sons a thousand years ago, but her immortal sentient goo child brought her back with a giant tree that consumed all the tailed beasts-the flaming fox you saw earlier is one of them--and then used a giant eyeball to reflect off the moon to put everyone in a hallucination at the same time so she could eat our life-forces,” Karin dismisses. “It’s not important.”

“There is--what?”

Jedi see many things. Many of those things are very strange.

This is a little much even for Anakin.

“It’s over, if you want the actual details, talk to my idiot cousin,” she huffs. “But now I need to run comparisons between the actual nonsense that is your entire existence and the actual nonsense that is my cousin’s existence, and maybe Sasuke’s... fuck this is going to be a mess, I’m going to have to cross-reference all the clans with bloodlines we know are derived from Kaguya, she’s the only angle we have on gods like that, unless... maybe there’s still some black Zetsu goo somewhere... Orochimaru must have kept a sample...”

“Uh, can I--can I go? I’m not comfortable here.”

“I need to find Naruto so he can call the Sage of the Six Paths out of the afterlife so I can see if I can get blood from a ghost to compare to yours.”

#Anakin Skywalker #Uzumaki Karin #Karin #Karin Uzumaki #Naruto #star wars #mini fic #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Asks #this is so stupid and I have no idea what I'm talking about #bijuu don't even have blood but Anakin's has more in common with THEM than with humans

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ayellowcurtain · 3 years ago

Text

this little prompt: in fics we usually see Sander as single dad and Robbe kind of sticking to their lil fam. could you maybe write where it’s vice versa(Robbe is single dad and he meets Sander at the most random conditions possible)

The second part has some background story happening in March 2020, so just a warning if you’re not comfortable with it.

Robbe looks at the new guy one more time, and every time, the guy looks right back at him a second later. It’s like he can feel whenever Robbe is staring, confused as to who this new guy is, and how he managed to sneak inside his tiny and very close group of friends.

Yeah, Robbe was busy for the past year or so, overwhelmed with a pregnancy, a break up, and now a baby that he’s responsible for.

He can’t be a bad dad. If there’s one thing Robbe will not allow himself to be is a bad dad to his kid. Freddy has not an inch of blame for being born and so Robbe will give him a good life with a solid relationship with his dad. It’s just that now, being at his first “real party” in what feels like forever, he can tell how much time he missed: how new relationships happened, and how old ones broke, and got fixed. His mood is partially affected because Jens and Jana are back together, and nobody cared to mention that to him. He feels like an outsider, and there’s no point in being here if he’s not missed or wanted.

He texts Noor, asking if Freddy is already asleep - which he’s not, of course Freddy would get that part from Robbe, not the good parts, but the bad sleeper was a must apparently - and so he tells her to get ready to go party or whatever she was planning on going because he’s stopping by at hers to spend the night with Freddy.

There’s no point in staying, and being out of every conversation so he might as well let Noor go out and have her fun. She was always a lot more social and easy to follow conversations than he is. And they’re cool now.

The months right after the break were hard, and she was already pregnant so he can’t imagine how it must feel with all the messy hormones, but they’re good now, better than they ever were when together. So there’s no problem in Robbe sleeping at her place while she’s out to be with Freddy.

It’s a quick bike ride from Senne’s place to Noor’s, and he texts her to open the door downstairs. She’s ready, with the door open when he gets there, clearly happy to leave the house for a few hours.

“Is he down?”

“Almost. I said you were coming so he was fighting his sleep to wait, but you know how powerful a bottle can be. But he’s in bed, changed, clean, ready for a daddy night.”

Robbe tries to smile at her, coming inside, taking his shoes and jacket off, hanging on the single hanger that’s empty in the hallway closet.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, and Robbe hides his anger at himself for being terrible at keeping his emotions from his face.

“Yeah, yeah,” he exhales, tired all of a sudden, looking at her, grabbing her purse and the keys, “Did you know that Jens and Jana are back together?”

Noor frowns like she’s confused why he would ask that, “Yes? It’s been a few months, I think.”

“And you didn’t think of telling me?”

“I thought you knew!”

Robbe shakes his head just to end this conversation, not wanting to go cry about his problems to anyone but a sleepy baby.

“I made your bed next to the crib.” Noor is now great at understanding when Robbe is closed, not wanting to express himself, and she doesn’t argue like she used to do.

“Thanks. Have fun, and no need to rush.”

She smiles awkwardly at him, slowly closing the door behind her.

“Thanks, babe.”

The apartment is completely dark besides the hanging lights above the kitchen island, so Robbe goes straight to Freddy’s tiny bedroom. He walks on his tiptoes, but the second he sees his shadow covering Freddy, his baby drops the empty bottle, waking up instantly when he recognizes Robbe, shaking his legs and arms, wanting to be out of his crib immediately.

Noor is not home so she won’t be able to complain when Robbe grabs him carefully and lies down with him on the improvised bed made out of a very thick queen size comforter folded in half to make it thicker for Robbe to sleep on. He puts one pillow behind Freddy and covers both of them, finding the right position that will make him keep Freddy carefully tucked close to him even if he falls asleep.

It’s probably bad to feel this way, but Robbe can finally relax. He feels at home with a baby in his arms more than at a party drinking with his friends. He knows he’s young, way too young, and he should still let himself go out, and enjoy being a teenager and try to be social, but somehow, he already ran out of interest to even try.

His brain is now stuck with one image. Added to that awkward non-verbal conversation downstairs earlier, while waiting for someone to open the door for them. He saw the guy standing outside, by himself, and he thought he was going to another apartment in the same building.

It was a complete stranger, a blank, good looking canvas that Robbe could use for his daydreams. The white hair, the oversized, clearly vintage leather jacket with the expensive boots was the perfect personification of what Robbe would ever find attractive. And the guy had posture, and attitude too. Robbe doesn’t know him - he knows he’s Britt’s new toy from how they were acting at the party - but he can tell the guy has the confidence he can’t even comprehend someone having. He has his reasons to be confident, of course, with the looks, and style. And so Robbe starts building his perfect character around that.

Sander, if Robbe remembers correctly the moment he introduced himself once they realized they were going to the same apartment. And Robbe imagines him being nice, social but not too much, just enough for Robbe to use it too when they go out. He’s intriguing, smart, overprotective, caring, comfortable, sexy…

Robbe decides to go with the basic scenario tonight, he’s way too tired to spend minutes creating an actual background story. It’s a first date, Sander is amazing at holding eye contact, they’re talking, and Robbe doesn’t feel any pressure to keep the conversation constantly going because the silence is chill between them.

It’s a nice restaurant, not too expensive, and amazing food, and Sander is constantly interested in Robbe, in what he has to say but also how he acts, what he’s thinking about. At the end of the night Robbe is tipsy but just enough to relax, and his version of himself in tonight’s daydream is a lot bolder than he’ll ever be, and as they’re walking to the train station, the night is getting too cold for him, and so he holds Sander’s biceps, and they boy doesn’t even flinch about it, squeezing Robbe’s hand against his ribs to warm them up.

The train is empty, and they just walk around, holding the poles to not stumble with the slow shaky movements, while keeping a light, teasing conversation.

Robbe sighs, and opens his eyes after trying to ignore the first two messages he got, his phone making his pillow vibrate with each new message.

Jens: Where are you?

Robbeeeee

Zoe said you left already, bro

You forgot your wallet here

Britt said Sander lives next door to Noor so I’m gonna leave it with him to give it to you

Text me when you see this

You could have said you were leaving.

Robbe reads the messages again, checking if he got that right. Of course Zoe would notice him trying to sneak out. And of course Sander would be this close to him, of course he would have the neighbors-to-lovers story with Noor’s best friend, who’s constantly in Robbe’s life too. He drops his phone back where he first put it, making sure everything is muted this time. Freddy is sleeping calmly so Robbe moves slowly, just getting rid of his jeans and socks, giving up on that stupid daydream to try to sleep too.

March 2020

Robbe sits on the couch, trying to remember drinking the big glass of water Sander handed to him, both of them paying too much attention to the global news to say anything to each other. His head is still pounding from all the drinking they did last night, after over a year without drinking a single beer. The lockdown news was expected, sort of, that’s why they drank so much last night.

What if the world ends because of this stupid virus? Let’s not waste our chances to be at a bar one last time.

Still feels overwhelming, watching it being reported on every tv channel at the same time. Last night started as a joke, but the frenzy that’s happening around the world gives Robbe this bad gut feeling, a bitter taste in his mouth that he’s sure it’s not because of the beers, or cheap whisky. When they got their first few warnings from the government about a possible lock down, it was an obvious choice to stay at Noor’s. Her place has a lot less people, so the space ends up feeling bigger too, and having Freddy at the flat would also mean having Noor there most of the time, and Robbe is not sure how well that could work, sharing a bedroom with her, and a bathroom with her, Freddy, Zoe, Senne, and Milan…

Sander turns the tv off, dropping the control on the other couch, walking slowly to the window, still half asleep too, probably digesting all the information they just saw.

“Do your parents live here?”

Robbe takes a second to understand Sander is actually asking him that. He leans back against the couch, drinking his water and shaking his head.

“My mom does, my dad moved a couple of months back. Yours…?”

“Yeah, they live like ten minutes from here but I’m gonna stay here. There’s no way I’m gonna be forced to be inside and with my parents at the same time.”

“You need space, yeah, I get it.” Robbe adjusts the shirt Sander borrowed him last night, feeling like that was a polite request for Robbe to leave already. Sander finally looks back at him, leaning against the closed window.

“I didn’t mean you. They’re just too restricted with routines, and times to eat and times to go to bed and wake up. I’m okay here. And you’re okay here too, if you want.”

Robbe bites the inside of his cheek, nodding his head. The past year was intense, long sometimes. The second they talked for the first time it felt different than anything else. Sander added more and more to Robbe’s interest for him with every talk. And Sander is not very the slowly-make-a-decision type. Or maybe Robbe is just good at reading him, those intense gazes, the persistence to keep talking, and getting to know Robbe. He didn’t make it easy but it’s not the same now, not after last night. After swimming naked, and kissing…

It was a good night, and Robbe was tired of fighting, of thinking about what anyone else would think. After a few beers, and long silence stares deep into each other’s eyes, he felt himself blushing, the warmth taking over his whole being as Sander pulled his chair to sit right next to Robbe, his arm resting against the back of Robbe’s shirt like he had nowhere else to put it.

It took him a whole year, a few drinks, and a global event for Robbe to give in, and he still feels reckless for doing it. But he wanted Sander so bad it was starting to make him dizzy. He allowed himself to be a horny, reckless, needy teenager for one night, and he ended up here already: at Sander’s place, after a wild night. He doesn’t regret it, not at all. If it wasn’t for outside events giving everything an extra edge, they would probably be back to their constant flirty bantering they had going on for the past few months.

The fact that the world is on hold, on “stay where you are” mode, on “choose your bubble and stick with it for a confusing amount of time", makes things weird, and maybe more serious than it would be in any other situation.

Sander tried for so long, and Robbe feels bad for giving in during a time where it feels like a lifetime commitment.

“We have a really bad timing.” Robbe exhales a laugh, trying to keep an awkward conversation light. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever this is, and he certainly doesn’t want to lose Sander.

Sander lifts his eyebrows, thinking about it, turning his head a little bit, walking shyly back to the couch, throwing himself right next to Robbe.

“Or not. If you accept to stay here we can have the married life you want.”

Robbe rolls his eyes, and turns to look at Sander, noticing how close they are, forgetting what he was about to say for a second.

“And you, Sander Driesen, the human that’s against any type of restrictions or boundaries or labels formed by our society, would be happy to be married? When you’re basically a teenager still?”

“Yes…? If I’m married to you.”

Robbe blushes, can’t help but look at Sander’s lips again, struck by his honesty and straightforward-ness once again. Sander has no filter, and he means his words when he says them so there’s no doubt in Robbe’s mind he’s meaning it. Why me? Sander can literally have anyone he wants in the world, no pre-made conceptions holding him back from anything. And he has the looks, the style, the flirty brain. There’s literally not a single thing stopping him. Why would he settle for Robbe? And he’s been trying for months, so it can’t just be a passing crave.

Robbe stops thinking to press his lips gently against Sander’s soft, warm lips, staying close to him, their nose rubbing when he asks.

“Why me?”

“Why not you? I’ve been trying to gain your trust and attention for the past year, and you think a global shitstorm will make me change my mind?”

Robbe grunts, moving carefully just so he can look up and not create any physical distance between them. It’s not like he made it that hard either, Sander just likes to make Robbe feel sorry for him so he can tease him some more.

He was with Britt when they met. And when they finally broke up, Robbe felt like Sander was too quick to come after him, to talk and text nonstop, it didn't matter the day or time. They were now in the same group of friends, and Robbe felt like everyone would judge him - again - for being with someone that had just broken up with a close friend. They never openly talked about their feelings, or what they wanted but Robbe will never forget the night he actually understood Sander was really interested in him, it wasn’t Robbe’s wild dreams playing tricks on him.

It was a better than the usual night, where Noor and Robbe and Freddy were all hanging out with everyone and no argument started about what time to put their kid to sleep or how to feed him or anything stupid. They were chill, and having a good time watching everyone be mesmerized by Freddy like they are in their day-to-day life. And Sander was oddly quiet, looking grumpy from a distance. And nobody knew how close Robbe and Sander were. Nobody knew about the late night calls that lasted hours, or the constant text messages and flirting.

So Robbe stayed with Noor and Freddy most of the time. Until Freddy fell asleep, and Noor, kinda tipsy, followed him closely. It was Robbe’s night to stay sober for the both of them, and Sander finally came and sat next to Robbe on the couch as the party died down slowly.

“So you and Noor…back together?”

Robbe was as single as he was when they met, so he was taken back by the question.

“What? No? What do you mean?”

“You looked…intimate.”

He thought about making a joke about how intimate he and Noor were in the past and how that’s hard to look over when there’s a baby to remind them constantly but he didn’t because in the very, very back of his brain, he thought Sander might like him to some degree.

“We’re not, so…yeah.”

Robbe doesn’t remember everything because it’s been months, but he remembers thinking Sander sounded bitter and jealous for a second, distant, looking elsewhere but at him.

“I’m not worried,” he said, all of a sudden, putting his empty bottle down on the side of the couch, “We are the future.”

Those words, and Sander’s confidence saying them stayed with Robbe, making his life a lot harder because after hearing what was in between the lines for so long, he was anxious for whenever this future was going to catch up to them.

He didn’t make it easier for them, it didn’t matter what Sander had said. Robbe didn’t want a teenage fling, he didn’t want to put his walls down to fall in love for the first time ever only to be heartbroken after. He wanted the real deal, and so he made sure to take his time, checking if Sander wasn’t going to just give up on him if a bump ever came in their way.

“I don’t wanna bother you.” Robbe admits, pressing his lips together, looking at Sander again. He knows Sander needs his space when he has an episode, and he doesn’t want to make anything worse for Sander, or make him feel like he can’t do or be whoever he wants to be because he has a “visitor”. Freddy would be around a lot too, if Robbe decides to stay here and not next door. They already met before, obviously, and Sander is probably Freddy’s favorite friend, but still. He knows how much work it is and how stressful it can be.

“You never bother me. And if I need, there’s the studio…since you’re sleeping with me…right?” Sander lifts his eyebrows, coming even closer, smiling mischievously, just barely touching their lips, making Robbe hold his breath.

“I’m not even sure if I’m staying yet.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t have a crazy make out session like yesterday night in front of Freddy,” Robbe adjusts his posture, ashamed of how forward he was last night, and Sander continues, “but I think he should sleep in the same bedroom because the studio has too many paints, probably too many chemicals for a baby to breathe all night long.”

Sander leans against the couch, looking behind them at the wall that connects his and Noor’s place

“We can even open a tiny door where you and baby Freddy can come and go whenever you feel like it.”

Robbe laughs because he knows Sander means it. What a nightmare would it be to fix it later when Sander gets his own place and not a rental.

Sander kisses him again all of a sudden, his warm hands, with the skin a little rougher on the knuckles on his palms brushing against Robbe’s skin, lifting his shirt a little bit, pushing Robbe to lie down.

“Stop stressing. You’re allowed to sleep with me, and have a kid still. You’re a dad, and also a teenager who just met the love of their lives. You don’t have to give up one to have the other. Remember our talk about the universes? And all the endless possibilities?”

Robbe nods his head, not able to do or think anything else but to give in when they’re this close and comfortable with each other, wrapping his legs around Sander’s waist so they can be even closer, glued together.

“I made my choice, in every universe, in every possible scenario you tried to stop us from getting together for the past six months. I’m not going anywhere now that I finally found you. In every universe, we end up together, so stop fighting.”

Robbe exhales a long breath, trying to think how bad of a decision this is, but he’s made up his mind, he just needs to accept it.

He really wants to see where this thing the Sander will go, and it’ll only be temporary until things go back to normal.

“Here.” Sander stops inches before kissing him again, making Robbe grunt under him as Sander grabs his phone on the coffee table, clicking on a bunch of things, showing Robbe his online cart, filled with toddler things, buying everything to bring it here so Freddy is comfortable.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #sobbe fic #robbe x sander

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26 part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

I’m Coming Up So You Better Get This Party Started

The Lans arrive just in time to see Cousin Jin Zixun hassling Su She, and they wonder how he has the fucking nerve to come to a party that they are also invited to.

Su she was invited by his new best friend Jin Guangyao, who deploys a full-on charm attack, wrapping Su She permanently around his little finger.

Smoother than the Lanling weather that’s how he holds himself together Watch out, he’ll charm you

Jin Guangyao grew up with women who earned their living by being charming, pleasant, and hiding their true thoughts from their clients, and he appears to have mastered this useful skill set. With Su She, he exudes confidence and authority, allowing the lesser man to bask in his attention.

With Zewu Jun he deploys helplessness and embarrassment, effectively controlling a man with much greater power than his own.

Lan Xichen confronts him about Su She's presence, and Jin Guangyao pretends he didn't know that Su She was ex-Lan. This seems super unlikely, given that JGY is good at collecting information that he can use to fuck with people, and also that he sheltered Lan Xichen from the Wens directly after Su She betrayed him.

Lan Xichen seems like he doesn't believe what JGY is telling him but then he decides to drop it, passive-aggressively saying that since JGY is uninformed, he's not guilty. Lan Xichen is actually assuming a lot here about his right to tell Jin Guangyao who to invite and who to shun, but JGY doesn't push back. Lying is so much simpler.

(more behind the cut!)

Su She wins for most unintentionally sarcastic-seeming toasting expression.

Jiang Cheng, Party Animal

Jiang Cheng arrives at the party, bringing his Jiang retinue and his bad temper. He super obviously casts around to try to find Wei Wuxian, who already told him he probably wasn't coming to the party.

Jiang Cheng is that guy who only comes to a party because the girl he likes said she was thinking about going, and then he spends the whole party saying "hey have you seen Mei Lin? She said she was going to be here but I don't see her."

Jin Guangyao formally congratulates Jiang Cheng on the Jiang clan's success in the hunt, and Jin Guangshan toasts him. As always, Jiang Cheng reacts to praise from authority figures like it's rain in the desert, smiling from ear to ear. He says that the Jiang Clan will donate the prey from the hunt to the other gentry clans. ...what?

Are we seriously saying that when these dudes go night hunting it's not just to remove dangerous bad stuff, it's for profit?

Like, do they eat monsters? Wear their fur? Make leather from their skin? Carve jewelry from their claws? Is Jiang Cheng wearing a purple monster's skin right now? (There will be an art prompt at the end of this post)

Meanwhile, check out the way Nie Huaisang is looking at Jiang Cheng, wow.

Forecast: Hazing

Having gotten the single pleasant part of the banquet over with, it's time for the Jins to pick on the Lans. Cousin Jin Zixun goads Lan Xichen into taking a drink with him, knowing that this is (mostly) against Lan rules. Jin Guangyao tries to stop him by saying, hilariously, that it's bad to drink and fly on a sword, but CJZX waves this away and keeps pushing, saying that if Lan Xichen won't drink, it's an insult to him.

A random cultivator who is definitely on the Jin payroll backs him up, saying that teetotaling is for losers, and Captain Blowhard boisterously agrees. Loudly agreeing with powerful people is the Yao clan's signature martial arts skill.

Jin Guangyao looks embarrassed and helpless, which is, as mentioned before, his own signature skill. But he's just playing his own part in this piece of theater; everything happening at this party (so far) is happening for the benefit of the Jin Clan. Cousin Jin Zixun is an ass, but he's not actually a loose cannon, and Jin Guangshan is clearly enjoying the Lans' discomfort.

Why? This entire party, the hunt, everything he's done since the end of the Sunshot campaign, has been designed to increase and consolidate his power. His main goal is to get the Yin Tiger seal, but reducing the status of the Lans is also a good move for him. The Lans have been the strongest opponents to the use of resentful energy, and worked the hardest to conceal and contain the Yin iron in the past. If he wants to use resentful energy as part of his own cultivation, he needs them to chill.

So this is a bit of a test; will they comply with the will of the larger group in order to avoid conflict, or will they refuse, which will allow him to label them as iconoclastic weirdos?.

Lan Xichen takes a long look at his brother, who is expressing all sorts of emotions while keeping his face very very still.

At a guess, he is thinking that this entire party is bullshit, that his brother's willingness to play along with these assholes is bullshit, that being viciously beaten for having a single drink in his life was bullshit, that Wei Wuxian not being here right now is bullshit.

Lan Xichen picks the "go along, get along" path, having his drink and using his magic skill of anti-intoxication to neutralize it, as he'd done previously when drinking with Wei Wuxian.

Cousin Jin Zixun picks on Lan Wangji next, and since he cannot magically or even non-magically tolerate alcohol, there is a real risk to his reputation if he drinks. But Lan Wangji breaks rules when he feels like it, not when people tell him to. He pointedly ignores the offered drink while Lan Xichen looks worried.

The rest of the party guests have a wide variety of reactions, none of them helpful, to these shenanigans. Jin Guanshan's son and heir watches with calm interest as the power dynamics play out.

All of this is actually not great strategy for the Jins. The Lans don't play little social games to gain power, because all that time they spend not drinking, not gossiping, and not doing other stuff? Is spent cultivating and practicing sword and musical battle forms. The Lan Bros are overwhelmingly powerful as individuals, and embarrassing them won't change that.

It's moot, ultimately, because Wei Wuxian chooses this moment to arrive.

Darkness Visible

Wei Wuxian actually made a big impressive stair-climbing entrance to Jinlintai a few minutes ago, with camera work echoing Lan Wangji's stair climb at the Wen Indoctrination Bureau from several episodes back.

But nobody was around to see that, other than us, and when he appears at the party it's in stealth mode; he steps into the frame from out of nowhere, and drinks Lan Wangji's unwanted drink.

Lan Wangji responds by looking at him like this for the next several minutes.

Wei Wuxian doesn't have time for their usual sport of Extreme Gazing, though; he came for a reason, which is to find and rescue Wen Ning. He gets right to it, asking Cousin Jin Zixun where he's keeping him.

Jiang Cheng, who is the king of worrying about the wrong fucking thing, jumps up to try to stop Wei Wuxian from talking. Like, seriously, he's ok with the Jins trying to take his clan's special extreme weapon, but he's not ok with his head disciple being rude in order to fulfill a whopper of a life debt--Jiang Cheng's life debt, in particular--or being rude in order to preserve the clan's independence.

Jin Guangshan decides this is a good moment to bring up the Yin tiger amulet. Wei Wuxian pushes back, hard, pointing out exactly what Jin Guangshan is doing. He says he's setting himself up to be a new Wen Ruohan.

Lan Wangji pays close attention to Wei Wuxian's reasoning here, and so does Nie Mingjue, unless he’s just trying to mask his confusion.

Jiang Cheng is too busy being horrified to listen, apparently. Or he just doesn’t agree, preferring to be reduced to a secondary authority, rather than defy a primary authority.

Wei Wuxian is, of course, all about independence; he was literally born to be a rogue cultivator, despite being dubbed “patriarch” himself, not long after this.

Let’s Go Crazy Let’s Get Nuts

Wei Wuxian gets tired of the scene and decides to lose his temper. He makes a show of being enraged, and he genuinely is angry, but I don't think he's out of control, this time.

He acts like he's out of control in order to scare everyone, but he makes his points very clearly, reminding everyone that he has power they don't have, that he's good at killing, that he's not patient, and that his teeth are nicer than everybody else’s.

Everybody in the room freaks out to one degree or another--except Jin Guangshan, who is apparently too pissed off to be scared.

It's hilarious that Jin Guangshan thought he was going to get Wei Wuxian to hand the Yin Tiger amulet over by creating a complex system of social pressure against him. Wei Wuxian's favorite way of responding to social pressure is to escalate it into violence, regardless of the consequences; he's been doing that at least since Gusu Summer School and probably a lot longer. Jin Guangshan should know this, given how many beatings his son has taken from Wei Wuxian over the years.

Wei Wuxian does a fantastically sexy scary, theatrical countdown, and Cousin Jin Zixun caves in and gives him the information he wants. It's worth noticing that even under threat of death, CJZX doesn't comply until he visually checks in with his clan leader. He’s genuinely a bad person, yes, but he’s a loyal soldier, which is what most of these clans value most.

As soon as he gets what he wants, Wei Wuxian is perfectly, smugly, in control of himself again. Everyone in the room is still stunned and afraid, so Jin Guangshan has achieved that much, at least; nobody likes Wei Wuxian having the Yin tiger seal now, including Jiang Cheng.

As he leaves, Wei Wuxian has one of those conversations with Lan Wangji in which everything is said in glances in the course of a couple of seconds.

WWX: I love you, I have to leave you; I've got some shit to take care of and I won't be coming back to all of this.

LWJ: I love you; I'm probably going to have to fight you; your funeral is going to be so upsetting

Wei Wuxian turns away from everyone, and you can see the weight settling on his shoulders, as he contemplates the choices he just made and the choices that are still ahead of him.

Jin Guangshan, for the first and only time, loses his temper in front of everybody, literally flipping a table because he's so mad about what just happened.

Art prompt: Jiang Cheng wearing an outfit made of a Chinese mythical creature. Bonus points if it’s a qilin. Bonus bonus points if Zhang Qiling (from DMBJ/Lost Tomb franchise) is standing next to him looking grumpy while Jiang Cheng wears an outfit made from a qilin.

Soundtrack: Get This Party Started by Pink, Charm Attack by Leona Naess, Let’s Go Crazy by Prince.

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #learn to count the yiling way #1900 words

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liddolwhynot2000 · 4 years ago

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Moments Levi shared with his beloved baby daughter- Kutchel

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aka Levi giving all his 💕Uwu's💕 to his baby girl

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Dadaaa

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It's Levi's day off, and even though he tries his hardest not to look it, he's eager to run back home. He's determined to not waste a second of being off duty.

He's missed his family- you and your calming presence. The stability that he falls into at merely being in the same vicinity as you, is difficult to resist-even for a man like Levi.

Your gentleness somehow meshes well with your child's rowdiness, always laughing and wreaking havoc in the house. He wants to hold his baby brat, even if she'll try to pull his hair out for it.

So he hurries back home, but of course, he has to get past your little guard first. Standing with his cloak still in his arms, Levi craned his neck down to stare at the tiny creature sitting on the floor, blocking his path to his beloved wife. Said creature, wearing a blue dress, is his adorable one year old daughter.

The baby doesn't bother to spare him a glance, too busy babbling as she plays with her blocks. Levi's fine with it, it took him a while but he's learned to accept that babies don't care about, well, anything.

He ponders lifting her up and cradling her in his arms for a cuddle. But, considering the ferociousness with which his daughter is bashing two blocks together, he decides that he values his ability to hear.

Kneeling down, he sets his cloak on the floor and sits in front of her, waiting to be noticed. Kutchel looks at him, her big black eyes innocently blinking at him. She shoves a block into her mouth and gurgles, recognising him.

"Do I have your approval to go to your mom now?"

"Ba da guuu"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

More random babbling. Tiny hands busy themselves with trying to crawl away, so Levi pats her on the head and gets up to go to his wife. He doesn't notice his baby pausing mid crawl to pout at him, wanting him to stick close.

He also doesn't see her little face cutely scrunch up, thinking of ways to stop him and bring one of her favourite humans back to her.

''Daadaaa."

Levi freezes, his heart immediately melting. He can't stop himself from turning back to his child, not when she calls out for him like that.

He cradles her in his arms, unaware that you're watching from the kitchen door, committing the sight to memory.

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Conversations

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You've been with Levi for so long now-so much of your life has been spent with this wonderful man and you have no regrets whatsoever.

You do, however, have secrets. Not serious ones, but pure ones. Small, precious memories you've kept to yourself. They're you're little secrets- events that you look back on with fondness.

Events Levi doesn't know you saw happen.

You remember, when you were exhausted from giving birth, how lovingly Levi talked to your newborn daughter.

'Hey brat, you better keep it down now. Your mom just fell asleep- don't yawn. You're already not listening to me-'

He thought you were asleep. If it weren't for your stitches, you would have giggled and alerted him to the fact that you were listening.

You remember all those times you were never woken up by Kutchel crying-because Levi would wake up before you.

'Go to sleep.'

'oooooh'

'I said; Go. To. Sleep. Don't smile at me-- hey stop laughing-'

You caught on to it very randomly, and the memory warmed your heart to this day.

Levi often had silly little conversations with baby Kutchel, when he thought you weren't in hearing range.

'Yes this is the right way-no what do you mean I can't fold shirts like this-you're pouting you obviously don't agree.'

'Kid- I don't know why you like Eren so much-but this works because he can be an unpaid babysitter-no? Fine, I guess I can pay him a little. Okay fine, I'll pay him more then a little.'

'Do you like this dress? Me neither. How about this one-these socks are awful why the hell do you have these-'

'Yes tea is better then coffee. Coffee is for soulless creatures like Mikasa-Hey, don't cry dammit, why do you have to like the brat that glares at me so much huh? You tiny traitor.'

'So I'm taking you to that military ball tommorow-and I expect you to cry enough that I have an excuse to leave. You cry, I leave and then you get as much milk as you want. We good? Good. Don't tell your mother.'

'You threw up on that military police soldier-I'm proud of you brat. Now, let's aim for throwing up on Erwin. Or at least trying to rip his eyebrows out. I feel like the rumour of them being fake might be true.'

'I know you can't talk much, but make a vow to me that you will, never, ever say yes to anything your Aunt Hange asks of you. Trust me, it's for you own good.'

'Kutchel- stop that-I will pay you to stay still. Here, here's all the money I have, which isn't much. Take it and stay still- why the hell are you still wiggling, you need to put your socks on dammit-'

And so much more. It warmed your heart to think of how beautifully he had bonded with her from the start. And you can only be glad you get to see their entire journey together.

__________________________________

Cloak

__________________________________

Levi is a man who values cleanliness above all things-he's made sure his house is so clean that all the rooms are sparkling. Despite having a baby in the house, who had recently learned how to walk and subsequently wreak havoc everywhere she wants to, he still tries his hardest to stick to those standards.

So that's why, here he is, pathetically trying to wash clothes, with a clingy toddler who has made it her life's mission to ruin his life. How is she doing this, one would ask. Well, making sure that he can't even put the damn clothes in the basket was one.

'Kutchel-no-stop it, give that back.'

Levi's a little ashamed of himself, just his hands moving to grab his swords are usually enough to strike fear into the heart of his enemies. Yet, here they are, incapable of winning a tug of war with his one year old brat.

He's really, really glad that Hanji can't see him right now.

He manages to get the shirt out of Kutchel's strong grip, causing her to pout and flail her arms with a whine. Levi refuses to give in and snatches the next piece of clothing before she can. He gives her a stern look.

'No.'

With that, he dumps it in the basket. Kutchel doesn't appreciate it, sitting down and pouting at him cutely. It doesn't last long, because she busies herself with the clothes again. At least she isn't snatching them from his hands this time, and only picking on the clean pile.

He gets up to get some more detergent, smiling to himself at the sound of happy gurgles. Once he comes back, he catches sight of Kutchel, and nearly drops all the powder.

His child is exactly where he had left her, except she's now wearing his Survey Corps cloak. Her black hair, much like his own, is messy and the hood is too big for her tiny head. She looks up at him, and smiles in the face of his horror. On one hand, it's pretty damn cute. On the other hand-

'Oh hell no-'

He starts to take the cloak off of her, ignoring her cries of indignation. His child won't have anything to do with the Survey Corps. Ever.

Too bad 15 year old Kutchel Ackerman had every intention of stealing his title from him- but that's a story for another time.

____________________________________

Clapping

____________________________________

Levi has self control. Plenty of it, actually. One could easily argue that, after Erwin, he's one of the most composed individuals in the military.

He's dealt with all sorts of people-rude, snobbish, arrogant bastards who think they stand a chance against him. His expression never waivers, even as he insults them to the point their ancestors are crying in the graves.

But what's happening right now, it makes him lose his precious self control. His face, so used to being that of an expressionless grumpy old man, is scrunched up in anger. Levi does not like what's happening.

Not one bit.

Levi can deal with people trash talking him, he never falters despite all the accurate short jokes. He can deal with people bashing Erwin without flinching-because even he's wanted to kill the man once and can't really blame others for wanting to do so as well.

However, what Levi can't deal with in a calm and rational manner, is -

'The fuck did you just say?'

'I said, your daughter is just a dumb brat.'

Yeah, this Military Police Senior Officer is dying today. Levi hopes Erwin is ready to deal with an irate Nile

'Shut the fuck up-I'm the only one who gets to call her a dumb brat.'

The Officer moves to speak again but Levi silences him with a soul burning glare. Levi turns to his brat. Kutchel is sitting on the carpet, wearing a tiny, cute red dress you had bought for her on sale. She's surrounded by numerous toys, gifted by his comrades.

'Kutchel-'

The baby pauses in her play time, which is chewing a stuffed bear, and turns to look at her papa. The officer looks confused.

'If you're happy and you know it clap your hands.'

There's a pause in the room. The officer looks surprised, although he thinks Levi just proved his point. Kutchel looks to be only a few months old and Levi has just monotonously stated a sentence that is usually sung. There was no way the brat would actuall-

Kutchel squealed in delight, pressing her hands together slowly. Once she notices her papas approval, she starts clapping happily.

Levi smirks, while the officer sweat drops.

'See that, bitch? No' dumb brat' does that at 9 months old.'

Of course, Levi still had to beat the guy up a little after that. No one picks on his baby but him.

____________________________________

Sorry

____________________________________

'Eat it.'

Levi pushed the spoon towards Kutchel, who refused to open her mouth.

He had seated her on the table, ditching the highchair. A bib was secured around her neck, and the brat was clearly hungry.

Except since she had eaten three bites, she refused to eat more. Levi was slowly getting more and more frustrated.

'What's your problem? I know you're hungry.'

Kutchel stared at him sadly, and his irritation thawed at the sight. His child was usually pretty well behaved when it came to food. She usually liked eating fruits and vegetables, but for some reason, kept rejecting her baby food.

Levi frowned, before deciding to taste it himself. Maybe if he ate one in front of her, she would want to eat it too-

Levi paused.

He slowly ate, resisting the urge to throw up. He grimaced and awkwardly avoided eye contact with Kutchel, feeling sheepish all of a sudden.

There was judgement in her eyes- something he couldn't blame her for.

The hell sort of crap had they been feeing her? It tasted awful. No wonder she wouldn't eat it.

Sighing, Levi shoved the bowl full of food-that-must-not-be-named away. He lifted Kutchel into his arms.

His brat pouted slightly, her small arms wrapping around his neck. Poor kid was hungry, as evidenced by her discontent expression.

Levi smiled at her lightly, tucking her head into he crook of his neck.

'Sorry Kutchel-let's go to the bakery and get some pastries. And when we get back, I'll even mix some chocolate in your milk. Just don't tell your mother okay.'

____________________________________

A/N: Heyooo. Just randomly thought of Levi being a dad and this came to mind. These are actually only some of the moments I thought of, I have plenty more in mind. Maybe I'll write those out too. Hope y'all enjoyed this! ❇️

#Attack on titan #AOT #Levi ackerman #Levi as a dad #Papa levi #Levi x reader #Baby Kutchel #Fluff

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one-boring-person · 3 years ago

Note

Hey!

I was wondering if I could request a Rambo x reader set in the first movie, if that’s alright, where the reader sees him walking through town and knows that Sheriff Teasle will try to bully him out of town so she pulls over and lies about them being old friends and then they go to eat or something? And the reader actually treats Rambo like a human being and thanks him for his service to his country when she finds out he is a veteran. Oh and could the reader be female please? Thank you very much! If not then that’s totally fine 😊

And I also wanted to say that your writing is amazing!!! And the reason I ended up watching Rambo in the first place 😆

Hope you have a great night/day!

Nfhfhhhf thank you so much! I'm so glad you like my stuff! And I got you into Rambo? Hell yeah!😂 I liked this request a lot, so I hope I've done it justice!

Respect Me.

John Rambo (First Blood) x reader

Warnings: mentions of war, mentions if death

Masterlist

For once, the truck sound system seems to be playing the tape flawlessly, lacking the usual stuttering and skipping it generally likes to include in the soft flow of music. Idly, I tap my fingers along with the gentle beat, the steering wheel moving easily in my grip as I guide the beaten pick-up truck out onto the main road, falling in line with the other traffic around me. The vehicle shudders a little as I change the gears, the old truck having never liked to do anything it should do, slowly moving into a more sustainable pace as I lean back in my seat, keeping my eyes trained on the road, with a half-eye kept on the sidewalk and nearby shops. A few Christmas decorations adorn the homely stores, though it's mostly left dull and bleak, as this town always has been. Once again, I find myself wishing I could just move away from here, start a new life somewhere else.

Ahead of me, the traffic slows, allowing someone to turn into the main flow, giving me the time to glance out of the window, scanning the sidewalk a little way away. Oddly, a familiar police vehicle has pulled up just past a nearby junction, the driver leaning out of the window to talk to someone on the pavement, who I have yet to be able to see. The car is Sheriff Teasle's, the knowledge of which does not sit well with me - If he's pulled someone over, it's not for a good reason.

Checking my mirrors, I indicate off towards the sheriff, leaving the main flow as I follow the curb round, finally able to see who Teasle is talking to. Just as I feared, it looks as if he's pulled up a random person for yet another unfair interrogation. Frowning, I regard the solemn-looking man with interest, trying to ignore the part of me that finds his somewhat crooked features incredibly attractive, taking note of his obvious vagrancy: his hair is long and shaggy, clearly being left uncut for months on end, his dust-strewn parka and faded jeans showing signs of constant wear. From what I can see, Teasle is questioning him, most likely about the guy's purpose in Hope, though he doesn't seem particularly open to this encounter. Making up my mind, I cross my fingers and hope my plan now works.

Pulling up beside the two, I stop the car and climb out, plastering on a convincing grin as I go towards the dark-haired man, greeting him as I go.

"John! I didn't realise you were in town! You should've said something!" I exclaim, pleading the man with my eyes that he'll play along, though it's somewhat unlikely.

He gives me a shocked look, head snapping round at the sound of the name, hard eyes fixing on me with suspicion and hostility, the severity of the expression sending a shudder down my spine. Teasle also looks to me, frowning.

"And to think you were left to walk along here in the cold! Jeez, you really should have called or something, I could've picked you up!" I carry on, praying that he picks up the cue, "Oh, hello there, Sheriff, how are you?"

"Not bad, thanks." Teasle replies tightly, glancing between the man and I, "You know this guy?"

"Oh, yeah. John is a family friend." I lie, smiling brightly at the man in question.

"Yeah, it's been a long while, but I thought it was time to visit again." The man finally chips in, his husky voice stirring up butterflies in my stomach, "Wanted to keep my visit a surprise, though."

"Ah, well! You're here now, at least I can give you a lift back to mine." I offer him, ignoring Teasle's sceptical look.

Giving me a taut smile, which looks more like a grimace, the man steps towards me, shooting the Sheriff a glance as he goes. Doing the same, I smile pleasantly at Teasle, and say my goodbyes, climbing back into my car as my new passenger joins me, sliding cautiously into the seat beside me. Quickly, I pull back out into the traffic, heading away from Teasle as swiftly as possible.

"Thank you for doing that." The dark-haired man murmurs after a moment, his hands clenching around his knees as he forces himself to look out of the windscreen.

"No problem. Teasle's an ass at the best of times, best just to stay away from him." I muse, "Do you want something to eat? There's a good place just down the road from here."

Turning to face me, the man frowns and watches my face, as if for signs of deceit, his quiet nature giving me the impression that he's probably quite acclimatised to being treated as such.

"How do you know my name?" He eventually asks, voice quiet.

Now it's my turn to frown as I glance across at him.

"I don't."

"You called me John earlier. How did you know that's my name?"

Surprised, I double take, now realising how sketchy that must look.

"Your name is John? I had no idea! That's a lucky coincidence, clears up confusion later." I chuckle dryly, "Honestly, I picked the first name that came to mind. I had no idea that it's your actual name."

He watches me for a second longer, eventually appearing happy with my response, looking away again.

"What's your name?" He asks me after a further minute.

"Me? I'm (Y/n). (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

"John Rambo." John nods, flicking some hair from his face, "And if you're still offering, I'd like to get something to eat, please."

"Of course."

Pulling up to the diner, I park the car, climbing out as I check the cash I have on me, deeming it enough for two decent meals and some drinks, hoping that it won't be too busy at this time of the day. John follows me, leaving his bedroll in the car as we walk into the small restaurant, finding a seat at one of the window booths, sitting opposite each other. He's quiet, scanning the room as soon as he's sat down, body stiff as he unzips his parka, revealing a red woolen jumper underneath. What strikes me most, however, (apart from the obvious planes of rippling muscle) are the silver dog tags hanging around his neck, jingling every so often as he moves.

A waiter comes over to us, handing us menus with a false smile, leaving us alone together again until we've ordered drinks, at which point he returns with the beverages. Stepping away again, John and I are left with some privacy. At this moment, I take a breath and ask him the one question on my mind.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a soldier?"

John visibly stiffens, eyes hardening a little.

"I was." Is all he says, tone flat.

"Did you serve in Vietnam?" I ask, unable to stop myself as my curiosity gets the better of me.

Once again, John seems reluctant to answer, and instantly starts to glance around, clearly watching for an escape route.

"Yeah." He affirms, gaze returning to me.

Shock fills me at this: I'd heard horrible things about the Vietnam War, about how the soldiers (on both sides) faced terrifying situations that I'd never dream of, my heart stuttering at this admonition.

"Really? That's...wow, that's…" I go to say something, finding myself speechless as I stare at the man before me, admiring him now in a totally new light, "God, you must be a strong person."

He blinks.

"Huh?"

"Well, you've done what I'd never be able to do, you've faced deadly situations, you've probably been in harrowing conditions and fights, I'd never have the strength to do what you did. Very few people do, so you must be a very strong person, mentally." I tell him, still in shock, "You definitely did the country proud, and I respect you for everything you've done. Thank you for that."

He stares at me in shock, eyes wide, lips parted.

"You...What?" Is all he manages, voice hitching.

"I respect you, and admire your bravery. You're a better person than any of the rest of us ever could be." I repeat, smiling gently at him.

For a long moment, he doesn't say anything, his expression remaining as it is, his body tense as he processes what I've said, clearly not quite believing me.

"You...respect me?" He stammers, quietly.

"I do." I nod, taking a sip of my soda.

"Thank you." John murmurs, pulling a face as he looks away, "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what kinda things I've done."

"What you did isn't relevant to me, only that you served the country, and you did it with bravery, so for that, you have my respect." I reassure him, telling him the truth.

John stays silent this time, apparently too overcome for words.

"Do you...do you need somewhere to stay?" I finally break the silence that has descended on us, tapping a rhythm out onto the table.

"No, but I don't want to inconvenience you any more than I already have, so don't worry about it. I'll figure something out." The veteran shrugs, still a little taken aback.

"You're not inconveniencing me, I wouldn't ask if you were. I have space in my house if you want to take it." I offer him, once again smiling across at him.

For the first time, John smiles at me, his features loosening as the expression crosses his face.

"I'll take it."

#sylvester stallone #rambo #sly stallone #john rambo #john rambo x reader #rambo imagine #rambo x reader

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seeingteacupsindragons · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have an idea for where the story is going to now? "The three abscond the Pinkertons" theory is very interesting, could you develop ?

I actually have a lot of pretty solid thoughts on where this arc is going. Unfortunately, little of it really has to do with the Pinkertons.

Anyway, obviously this story is abut to delve deep into Billy's story and past now, and this former friendship of his he's very haunted by. Whatever case Sherlock was assigned is clearly related in a very real way.

So here's a fun fact from my friend who apparently had a hyperfixation on Billy the Kid in middle school (God, get you friends who have had hyperfixations on the most random things): The guy who historically killed him was his former friend.

*rubs hands together*

And then we have the fact that this series really love its mirrors and foils and parallels. And we have these two weird dorks with an intense friendship, one of whom absolutely refused in any way to betray his friend, kill him, or abandon him, despite them being on nominally opposite sides and one being on the side of the law and other being an outlaw. Two weird dorks Billy keeps commenting on the friendship of, the closeness of.

*rubs hands together more*

And the fact that William still hasn't made a decision on how to atone or help people, but he clearly has in the present timeline at that dinner in London, and Billy and Sherlock are on his side. He's had time to think, but clearly that, and clearly talking to Sherlock, is not enough. He needs an external push to give him more information, more conviction in a certain setting. And this is, really what the story we're being told in flashback right now is actually meant to be.

Could William's refusal to answer be meant to drum up a dramatic point where he accepts? Sure. Could it also be meant to indicate that Liam is very unsure about the concept and isn't quite so desperate to jump into that? Absolutely, he's definitely very unsure. The series has emphasized this several times now. But is it also totally possible that this is going to come to a head moment where Liam actively rejects what he was offered? Oh, hell yeah.

So I don't know where it's going. It might go very weird politically, but narratively, there's a lot of juicy potential here.

#Yuukoku no Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot #YuuMori Spoilers

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imgoingtohellsofuckit · 4 years ago

Text

Oops

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings - criminal minds based mentions of violence (not really), drinking

Summary - When something slips out at the round table things between the Reader and Spencer get really awkward

(i got the idea from notjoselyn on tiktok)

Y/n walks alongside Penelope as they move through the BAU bullpen. Talking about the girls' night plans the girls have been working on for the last couple of weeks. "That club would be so fun," Y/n says brightly, "but did everyone agree? I mean it's a little you know loud and crazy."

"I mean Emily is always down," Penelope says, "especially when I ask her... And JJ needs a minute away from her kids. Even if she won't admit it."

"Little angels my ass," Y/n chuckles as they reach the round table, "oh my I have the cutest dress to wear. It's a little- you know."

"Oh, I do know," Penelope says smirking lightly, "you're gonna look hot!"

"Mmm you just wait and see," Y/n chuckles.

"Wait and see what?" Spencer asks as he joins the two at the table. The girls chuckle lightly as Spencer looks between them. "What?"

"Well, boy wonder we are talking about our upcoming girls' night," Penelope tells him, "specifically about the dress miss Y/n here is going to wear." Y/n chuckles lightly. Spencer nods lightly. "What color is it?"

"Black," Y/n tells her, "a little black dress moment you know?"

"Yes!" Penelope says brightly, "oh I can't wait." Y/n chuckles lightly. "I have this really cute dress picked out- it's purple very sparkly. Very eye-catching."

"Hot," Y/n says playfully. Spencer looks slightly amused with the banter. "I just hope JJ can keep up. I mean with all the mom duties she's been slacking behind on girls' nights... I feel like we are gonna exhaust her."

"Redbull drinks exist for a reason," Penelope says.

"Right," Y/n says.

"What even happens on a girls' night?" Spencer asks.

"Chaos," Y/n tells him, "We all drink until we can't stand. Dance with strangers. Leave the FBI training at home and have fun."

"Sounds dangerous," Spencer says, "do you have a designated driver?"

"Uber," Penelope tells him.

"That's not safe," Spencer says, "do you guys not pay attention to the cases we get? How many of the girls we see started out at some random bar?"

"If you're so worried you be our dd," Y/n offers. He looks between the two girls carefully.

"Fine," He says, "I'll go."

"You can't go," Emily says as she and JJ join them at the round table, "it's girls' night."

"I won't ruin the fun I'll just keep you from dying," Spencer says, "1 in 5 violent victimizations involving perceived alcohol use by the offender."

"That's ruining the fun Spence," JJ says placing her hand on his shoulder, "we are big girls-"

"No no, he wants to be DD then let him," Y/n says, "we save uber money that way. Plus he can't be the one that gets to play wheres, Emily."

"Or Can we keep clothes on Penelope," JJ chuckles. Y/n nods lightly. Spencer raises a brow lightly. "Just remember you signed up for this." Rossi and Hotch join the others in the room. The conversation shifts from reckless drinking to the cases they are supposed to be consulting on. "I'd say, sadist."

"Profiler JJ always comes through," Y/n says smiling lightly. The blonde chuckles lightly. "I mean it profiles relatively simple... This all the cops have?"

"Yes," Hotch answers her, "I think what we have so far is all that we'll be able to give them based on the files they sent." They all nod lightly. Handing the files over to Penelope as they move to the next one. After six or seven more cases the attention starts to shift. Small conversations breaking out around the table. Y/n tries her best to focus but the words were all blurring together.

"So are the girls' night plans always this dangerous?" Spencer asks her. Clearly more curious than he's trying to let on.

"You worried about me?" Y/n teases lightly.

"Well yeah," Spencer says, "I'm worried about all of you... I mean it's really risky going out like that- not that I'm saying you guys can't take care of yourselves but- you know what we see. The statistics show how dangerous it is."

"I understand what you're saying but we watch out for each other," Y/n assures him, "and besides with you babysitting us we will have a knight in shining armor to save us if it goes too far."

"You don't think it'll look weird with me watching a group of girls?" Spencer asks.

"You're right," Y/n says, "we should ask Morgan if he wants to go."

"Go where?" Morgan says looking from his conversation with Hotch.

"To this new club," Y/n tells him, "tonight with the girls and Spencer."

"Spencer?" Morgan asks clearly shocked at the addition of the younger man.

"Don't be so surprised," Emily says, "he offered to make sure us ladies got home alright." Morgan nods lightly.

"Yeah and you can make him feel a little less left out," Y/n offers, "make it seem less like he's babysitting... Rossi, Hotch if you want to come as well we can make it a team thing."

"If it's a team thing then I want everyone to forget what happens when we leave this office," Penelope says, "whatever happens when we drink stays in the safety of the club."

"Jack has a sleepover," Hotch tells them, "maybe another time." They all look to Rossi. The older man chuckles.

"I think my clubbing days are past me," Rossi tells them, "plus its poker night."

"Lame," Emily teases lightly, "Morgan will you at least come?"

"Of course," Morgan says, "I don't wanna leave our boy genius all alone." Y/n looks back to Spencer and smiles lightly. Trying to get back to her work. The boy keeps his eyes on her. She looks up carefully. He smiles to deflect the fact he's been staring at her.

"That necklace looks really nice on you," Spencer tells her. She smirks lightly.

"Thanks," Y/n says, "but your hands would look nicer." The words leave her mouth before she can process what she said. She freezes at once as the table looks around in slight amusement and shock at what just happened. Y/n's eyes widen in horror. Rossi laughs lightly.

"At least let him take you out on a date first," Rossi jokes. Y/n looks up to Spencer who's still frozen. His mouth slightly open as if all words are suddenly lost to him. Morgan just laughs loudly at the situation. Y/n can feel her face go red. She moves covering her mouth lightly.

"Did she really?" Penelope starts.

"Oh she did," Emily says in pure amusement.

Y/n closes the file and moves to stand up.

"I'm gonna walk out the door," She says slowly, "and when I walk back in here we can pretend that it never happened."

"Please," Hotch says. She nods quickly. Walking out the door. She takes a lap around the BAU in an attempt to work through the crippling embarrassment this situation is going to bring her for the next forty years. She can already tell she's gonna see this in her nightmares.

Back at the table, Spencer is still frozen.

"She broke him," Emily chuckles as JJ waves her hand in front of Spencer's eyes. He blinks quickly. He looks over the others.

"Did that actually just happen?" Spencer asks them finally. They nod lightly. His face is bright red. Suddenly that big brain of his is nothing more than a peanut. When Y/n steps back into the room he's still in slight shock. She shuffles nervously back into her seat beside Spencer. Making a point to not make eye contact with anyone.

"I'm never going to live that down am I?" She whispers over to Penelope. The blond chuckles awkwardly.

"Oh no honey," Penelope says, "probably note."

"Oh goddammit," Y/n says softly. She moves the file lifting it to cover her face.

Meanwhile, in Spencer's big brain he's trying to process that the girl he's had a crush on for years said that his hands would look good around her neck. He tries to explain it in any way that makes sense but he's out of luck there. All he can think is what just happened?

Y/n's thankful when Hotch dismisses them back to their desks to work on their reports. She's suddenly very grateful for having the desk furthest away from Spencer. She can't even begin to think about what the hell she'd say to him to clear all this up. And Spencer and Emily laughing lightly don't help at all. She can just imagine all the things he's saying. Not to mention him avoiding her eyes at all cost.

Her face is still bright red when she shuffles into the elevator to head home later. However, life is forever cruel. Instead of giving her an empty elevator to escape to Hotch and Emily jump in beside her. She chuckles nervously.

"I'm not going to say anything," Hotch tells her, "just- try not to say anything like that while we're trying to work."

"Right," Y/n says softly.

"Where did that even come from?" Emily asks leaning forward to get a look at the girl. Y/n chuckles nervously.

"You're gonna have to get me drunk before I answer that," Y/n says carefully, "mostly because that's the only way you're gonna get me to talk about what is probably one of the top ten most embarrassing things that I've ever done." Emily chuckles lightly.

"Well, then the first round is on me."

When she meets back up with Emily the other girl is pretty much shoving a drink into her hand. Y/n takes it without a word. Knocking back the shot eagerly at the thought the others would be meeting them soon. More so that she's going to have to see Spencer... Considering she invited him.

"Oh, you do look hot!" Penelope exclaims as she and the others move to join the two girls. Penelope engulfs Y/n into a hug. Clearly excited to see her outside of the work setting. "Oh and look at you, Emily!" As Y/n's eyes settle on Spencer she starts to panic.

"I'm gonna go get our first round," Y/n says planning her escape route in her mind. Before the others can say anything she's rushing off to the bar. She orders the drinks quickly. Trying to focus on the bartender's movements.

"Hey," A soft voice says. She turns to look at Spencer. She turns back to the bar immediately. Spencer looks at her slightly confused. "You shouldn't walk off alone it's dangerous." The bartender sets the tray down. She takes it eagerly.

"You could see me from the table," Y/n says trying her best to not look at the boy. He follows her carefully as she hurries through the crowd back to the table. She sets the drinks down at once. "To the BAU!" The others grab the shots eagerly. She takes hers knocking it back quickly. Spencer looks over her carefully.

"Oh, I love this song!" Penelope says as she drags Y/n off to the dance floor. Emily follows. The second they get to the floor y/n tries not to focus on the awkwardness. Instead pushing her attention onto dancing with her friends.

"So?" Emily asks, "where did that come from?"

"Deep in my subconscious," Y/n answers, "you know I've always had a thing for Reid but- I can't believe I said that out loud!"

"I thought I was dreaming!" Emily chuckles as she moves her hips to the beat, "but Hotch's face- that was real."

"So was Spencer's heart attack!" Y/n adds, "did you see him? I thought he was going into shock!"

"I think he did," Emily says over the music. The two chuckle lightly. Emily looks over to the boy. Elbowing Y/n to look as well. They see him drinking out of a water bottle as he looks over the crowd carefully. Morgan talking to him about something that seemed serious. Spencer looks like he's turning red again.

"He looks good tonight," Y/n says to Emily, "the whole sweater and tie combo." Y/n bites her lip lightly. Emily chuckles.

"Maybe you can have his hands as a necklace then?" Emily teases. Y/n scoffs lightly. "Go talk to him- now."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," Emily says, "and you trust me with your life." Y/n sighs lightly. "Come on." She doesn't get a chance to argue. Emily yanks the girl along the dance floor before practically shoving her into the booth. Then Emily looks to Morgan. "Let's get another round." The two are gone before Y/n has a chance to process her thoughts. Spencer smiles lightly.

"Hey," He says softly.

"Hey," Y/n says, "how's the- weather?"

"Fine," Spencer says, "about earlier-"

"I know over the line," Y/n starts.

"You think about that often?" He asks. Y/n's eyes widen at his words. Layers of confidence and the slight smirk on his face make her wonder if she blackout and this was a dream.

"Uh- well I," She mumbles lightly. Spencer leans over to her ear.

"Cause we can make it happen," Spencer whispers. Y/n steps back at once. Spencer looks at her carefully. "Shit Morgan said the wouldn't sound creepy. I'm sorry- I just was trying to be flirty." Y/n looks at him carefully. As if she's deciding him if he's real or not.

"Wait so you don't think I'm a freak?" Y/n asks him carefully.

"No no- I was just kinda taken back," Spencer admits, "I mean I'm not exactly used to hearing that." Y/n chuckles lightly. "But you know- we could?"

"Hmm- I don't think they'd notice if we left," Y/n chuckles lightly. Spencer bites his lip lightly.

"Well if you don't think they'd notice," Spencer says. Y/n chuckles grabbing his home to pull him along the bar to get to his car.

They absolutely noticed.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

412 notes · View notes

kimnjss · 4 years ago

Text

who are you? | myg

⤑ series: be my baby

⤑ pairing: rapper!yoongi x mom!reader

⤑ genre: fluff // nd a little bit of angst !!

⤑ rating: PG13.

⤑ word count: 5.2K

⤑ warnings: a temper tantrum. mentions of abortion. nd that’s about it lmao, nothing to crazy here guys...

⤑ A/N: this is late... buut ., so much happens in this one guys - it’s worth it, trust me. don’t forget to let me know what you think, you know your feedback is my favorite!! x

APRIL 18TH, 2020 | 11:30

Hyunki is sat at the kitchen table when the knock sounds at the door. Papers laid out in front of him as he works with safety scissors to cut triangles out of the pages. Not too far from him, you're at the counter putting together the lasts of Hyunki's lunch when the knock interrupts you.

Punctual to the minute, Yoongi stands on the other side of the door. Nervously shuffling his feet with his hands buried in his pockets. It took him much longer than usual to get ready, wanting to look nice for Hyunki... for you. Then frantically changing after hearing Jimin's voice in his head going on about living to impress. Only to put on his original suit moments after, then turning around seconds before exiting the house to put on something more casual.

It was a wonder that he made it on time.

“Is that him?” Hyunki asks, head tilting up to find you with his wide eyes. Confused when you're not running to the door with excitement like he expected you to be. He was excited, to say the least, so you should be too.

But you're not. Of course, you're glad that Hyunki is ready to meet his dad and that Yoongi can finally have to chance to be with his son. Yet, you still couldn't shake the nerve-wracking feeling in your chest that something terrible was going to happen. And not being able to place what that something terrible was, terrified you.

No matter what, though, you urged yourself to shove it down. No longer willing to keep the two of them apart. Yoongi deserved to know his kid, he deserved to be a dad. All of your worries and fears would just have to sort themselves out. Yoongi was a good guy after, you had nothing to be worried about.

You're humming in response to Hyunki's question, setting his plate of food down in front of him before moving to open the door. “Eat a lot. Don't make a mess,” You tell him to which he's nodding to, picking up his fork to stab into his pasta.

Pulling the door open, you find Yoongi in a pair of baggy black pants – you know the ones with all the pockets, and a loose-fitting shirt with a white FG in the middle. His hair is messy like he's been running his fingers through it all morning – but just adds to his natural handsome. Eyes focused on the toe of his chunky sneakers, but you can still see the way he's chewing on his lip.

“Hey,” You speak softly, the sound of your voice causing him to lift his head. The worry in his eye is easily detected, even if you hadn't known him your whole life. “Don't be nervous, he's excited.” An attempt to ease his worries, which seems to work because you see his shoulders relax.

His hand lifts to point behind you, eyes flickering over your shoulder before focusing back on your face. “He's in there?”

With a silent nod, you're moving aside. Giving him the space he needs to enter the house, to meet his kid. The nervous bounce of his fingers against his thigh saddens you. Guilt settling in your stomach for even putting him in this position in the first place. No father should be this nervous to be introduced to his kid.

Shouldn't even have to be introduced in the first place. You don't dwell on the issue for too long, knowing that you'll have a chance to clear the air. Get all of this off of your chest and hopefully, smooth things over.

Following behind him, you mimic his careful steps into the kitchen. Hyunki still sat at the table, one hand shoveling food into his mouth while the other scribbles on the pieces of paper he had cut out.

Yoongi's frozen in the threshold. Wide eyes taking in the tiny body in front of him. From the side, he looked exactly like him. Even Yoongi couldn't deny that. Had noticed the similarities while looking through your Instagram, but this... this was different. That was his kid sitting right in front of him.

A matched slope of the nose, the shape of his eyes, how his mouth shifted into a pout when he brought his attention to the picture he was working on. Focused. That was his son.

Turning to you, Yoongi tries to swallow the tears that brim at his water line. Threatening to roll down his cheeks. He's spent too much time crying in front of you in the past week, he needed to pull himself together. But how could he? Meeting his kid for the first time? It's emotional. And he's feeling everything on a ten at the moment.

“We did this? He's ours?” He's asking, almost out of disbelief which has a soft giggle slipping past your lips. The sound still holding the power of turning Yoongi's stomach to mush.

Smiling, you nod. Not wanting to take away from the moment by speaking. Allowing him the time he needed to wrap his head around it. When you first had Hyunki, you remember laying in the hospital bed for hours just staring at him from inside the incubator. The hours spent bringing him into the world not seeming so long, now that he was here staring at you with his dark brown eyes.

Hyunki's head is lifting at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, eyes narrowing into a squint and lips parting slightly as he studies the man standing in front of him. He stares like that for a moment before he's turning his attention up to you.

“Mommy? That's not an elf.”

Despite how many times you tried to explain that a rapper wasn't the same as an elf, he refused to listen. Convinced you were telling stories for whatever reason he decided was a plausible one.

Eyebrow arched in slight confusion, Yoongi takes careful steps further into the kitchen. Until he's close enough to kneel in down at Hyunki's chair. Big eyes stare at his crouched figure, lips, and cheeks messy with pasta sauce. “Hi, Hyunki.” Voice hushed, but that doesn't stop the way Hyunki's eyes are widening.

A tiny gasp falling from his lips as he lifts his hand to cover his mouth. “How do you know my name?” He's rushing, lifting his hand to speak before quickly smacking it back into place. “Who are you... A real elf!?” Words muffled by his palm, but he doesn't move his hand.

An easy laugh falls from Yoongi's lips, clearly amused by his son's familiar behavior. “I'm your dad. Not an elf. And you're my son.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. Seeming as though it's the first time he's sad them out loud. Fully registered that he was a father with a son that looked exactly like him. Acted a bit like him too despite never knowing him until now.

Son. Father. The weight of the word and the meaning behind them. The responsibility that came with having one, becoming a father. And with just one look, one barely started conversation over a kitchen table covered in spaghetti sauce – Yoongi is more than ready to step up now that he has the chance.

“False!” Hyunki speaks with a roll of his big eyes, turning his attention back to the food in front of him. Poking at the pasta on his plate as he speaks. “I'm Mommy's son. I can't be your son too. That makes no sense.”

Predicting the direction of the conversation from your know-it-all son, you're jumping in to clear the confusion. “It makes perfect sense, Hyunie.” Standing just a few steps behind Yoongi and Hyunki's eyes are quickly snapping up to you. “I'm Mommy and he's Daddy. We had to work together to get you here.”

He blinks twice, registering the new information in his head. Before a heavy sigh is leaving his lips, eyes shifting back to his sheet of paper. “If you say so.” He says, unconvinced. “So what's your name?” Raising a challenging brow, his eyes are back on Yoongi.

And you're ready to interject before Yoongi's voice is stopping you short. “Yoongi. And you're Hyunki. See? Are names are almost the same.” A big smile breaks onto your son's features, the smallest laugh leaving his lips as he nods his head.

“A little bit. You want some pasta, Mister Yoobi?” There's extra effort with trying to pronounce the name, but he's quick to go with the first thing that comes out of his mouth. Small hands pushing the plate toward Yoongi. “It's cold now because you guys talked for long and I couldn't eat.”

Yoongi is shaking his head, rising to his feet – his eyes never lifting from the boy. Allowing them their space to get acquainted, you move to clear the table. Busying yourself with cleaning up to keep yourself from interfering.

They needed their space to chat and you knew that. It was just hard to make the shift considering you've always been right there when it came to Hyunki. Always had one leg in the conversation, even if it was with Tae or Kookie. This was different, though. It was Yoongi – his dad, they needed to get along without you there.

Taking a spot at the table beside him, Yoongi picks up one of the crayons he's been offered. “I'm learning shapes!” Hyunki spoke with the most enthusiasm, listing off the ones that he knew and pointing them out on the paper he had in front of him.

Listening closely to his son speak, congratulating him when he's showing off a very bumpy square. It all has Yoongi choked up, seconds from breaking down right in front of the little guy – struck with disbelief. He pulls it together, though. Asking questions and listening to the drawn-out answers his son gives. Oddly being able to understand the three-year-old speech, and he sums that up to the fact that was his son.

Understanding him was part of his job now.

Thirty minutes pass of the two of them at the table. Covering the sheets of paper in rainbow, while talking about everything random. Yoongi had explained more fully just why he wasn't an elf. And Hyunki told his favorite stories with his favorite people: Taetae and Kookie Hyung.

You've moved to the living room, forcing yourself to relax in the odd free time you had. Use to having your little boy attached to your hip. That's how it had been when he was meeting Namjoon. Wouldn't even let you leave the room for a second without hurrying out of his seat to follow you.

He was two years old then, but still with such a personality. You had met Joon at the park on a day you were excluded from the plans. 'Boys only, Mommy. Kookie Hyung said.' Were the exact words that Hyunki used when he was explaining the plans he had with the boys.

Laughing, you took his word for it. Thanking both Taehyung and Kookie for giving you the night off. Something you hadn't had in the longest time. And you were quickly realizing that you had no idea what to do with your time now that you had it.

So you took for going to the park. Walking around and enjoying the scenery. It was nice outside, the weather the cool that you liked where you only had to bring a light sweater if you needed it. Joon agreed to that.

He was sweet from the moment you met him. Leaned against his bike, taking pictures of the river. You, not paying attention, were accidentally caught in one of his shots and he was quick to apologize. Assuring you that he wasn't some creep that came to the park to take pictures of unsuspecting girls. You couldn't help but laugh at that.

You two hit it off immediately, he was a great friend to have around and he actually listened to what you had to say. Gave you good advice too. Of course, you weren't introducing him to your kid right away. Had no idea what this man was going to turn out to be and you were more cautious with Hyunki than that.

But as the weeks went on you were quickly noticing that he was calling more and flirting boldly and it became apparent that the friendship that you saw, was a start to a romantic relationship. And he was cute enough, smart, nice, could hold a conversation. So you allowed yourself to entertain the idea – no matter how not over Yoongi you were.

Things always seemed to be in limbo with the two of you, though. It was like there was this silent understanding. He knew that you were still hung up on your ex, you told him many times before and if that wasn't enough – he was often times on the receiving end of your rants about the guy.

And he was always bouncing around with his job as a photographer so putting a strain on a solid relationship didn't really seem like the best idea for him at the moment. No denying how attracted you two were for each other and the fact that you both weren't looking for a relationship, everything just made sense after that.

Only then were you introducing him to Hyunki. And the two of them didn't hit it off at first. Glaring from across the room, throwing toys, never wanting him to come along to outings. But Joon was consistent had a soft spot for Hyunki, so he was patient with him. And before you knew it, they were gelling together so well that you were able to rely on Joon when you needed a hand.

The two of them had become something of best friends in the past months.

“Mommy! Do you see this?” Wrapped up in your thoughts you hadn't heard the subtle knock on the door, neither did you notice the two men hauling bag after bag into your kitchen. You're not snapping back to it until you feel Hyunki beside you, shoving a boxed electric car in your face. “Mister Yoobi bought me a million gifts!” He shouts with excitement, hopping off of the couch walking toward the litter of bags in the kitchen.

You're quick to stand, following his footsteps. Mouth dropping at the entire toddler section of 'Toys R Us' filling your kitchen. Yoongi is holding the door open while two men – you recognize them to be the same men from the restaurant, carry a white toy LAND ROVER big enough to sit in.

“Oh my God!” Hyunki is shouting, dropping the box he had been wrestling to get open to rush to the shiny car. A bodyguard is lifting him into it as soon as it's set on the floor, not even throwing a fit about being lifted by a stranger.

He mimics driving it, making the engine sound with his mouth while making dramatic turns of the steering wheel.

“Yoongi-” You start, words being cut by the next person to enter your home – uninvited. A short woman with long dark curls and large bright eyes. Arms full of five NIKE boxes, holding what you can only guess are sneakers. She sets them on the table, leaving a lingering look that you don't fall to notice at Yoongi before she's turning to leave.

Only gone for a second before she's back with bags of toddler-sized clothes, everything from socks to sweatsuits. Yoongi thanks her quietly, closing the door behind her with an annoying sweet smile.

“Yoongi! What's all of this?” Arms spread out to gesture to the clutter.

Hyunki, who has since been distracted by his new car and the men that push him around in it, is quickly lifting his head. Confused as to why you're using your 'red' voice when nothing was wrong. At least in his eyes.

“I know it's a lot.” He hadn't realized just how much he bought until he was seeing it all in front of him, cramped in your small kitchen. “I just wanted to get a few things for the little guy.” Yoongi's voice is calm like it always is. Forever being the blue to your red.

And Hyunki has lost interest in whatever conversation the two of you could be having. His focus on the giant LEGO set sat in the middle of the room, all but climbing over the man who had helped him into the car to get to it.

“This is not a few things, Yoongi.” Much closer now, your tone is quieter. Not wanting to set Hyunki off with the idea that he won't be able to keep any of this. “There's no space for all this,” Shifting the focus of the problem because you don't want him to think you had a problem with him buying gifts for his own kid. This was just too much.

“We can keep a few things at my place.” He says with a shrug, fingers pushing his hair back as his eyes shift to Hyunki. Sat on the floor sifting through the bucket of play dinosaurs. “I'm having a room fixed for him anyway.”

This catches you off guard. Forehead creasing in confusion as you tilt your head to look at him. “A room? What would he need a room for?” This was all so much so fast. Not even a proper conversation had between the two of you and he was already preparing a room!?

“Mister Yoobi, I need to open this!” Manners thrown out the window with his urgency, Hyunki is clawing at the box in front of him. A piano mat that you step on to make songs. A gift so Yoongi.

He's quick to spring into action at the call of his son, lowering himself onto the ground behind him as he tears the box open. The two men have moved from their spot in the middle of the kitchen, standing very guard like at the threshold as they speak amongst each other.

“We'll talk later,” Yoongi's promising halfheartedly, lifting his head to look up at you. Silently, you nod. Huffing out a thick sigh before moving toward the fridge. “Would you men like something to drink?” Your question directed to the guards in your doorway, who are quickly glancing down at Yoongi.

Once they're receiving his silent nod, they agree instantly. Relaxing as they settle at your counter, taking the drinks you've poured for them with great thanks. Seeming to have clocked out, the two men chat amongst each other causally and you move to watch Hyunki play.

Loud laughter leaving his lips as he jumps on the piano, looking down at Yoongi with a huge smile each time he makes a different sound. And Yoongi is smiling right back. Looking at ease for the first time since you've seen him again.

And you can't help but sulk at the fact you took this away from him all those years ago.

APRIL 18TH, 2020 | 14:17

Two hours of peaceful playing pass, Hyunki's laughter filling the room as he bounces from toy to toy mindlessly leaving behind what he found interest in just moments before. Yoongi is two steps behind him the entire time, entertaining every last thing that momentarily holds interest.

Until all hell is breaking loose. A playful knocking over of the LEGO tower he was working hard on has a shrieking wail flying from his lips. Small hands wrecking what's left of the tower.

Yoongi attempts to console him, scooting closer and telling him that they could just build it again. Hyunki doesn't listen, the tantrum he's throwing only accelerating with his words. Hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “We can't build it again, Mister Yoobi! It's ruined!” He cries, head tilting back as he cries.

“Shh, buddy.” Yoongi tries, hand lifting to brush his hair.

That only has Hyunki flinching away, flopping onto the floor as his cries grow louder. Panicked, Yoongi is looking up – eyes searching the room for you. “Okay, okay.” Taking quick steps over to Hyunki's body, you're crouching down beside him.

“Is it time for a nap?”

“No!” He screams through his tears, kicking his legs out. “Wanna play with Mister Yoobi,” Arms reaching to wrap around his waist, easily lifting him off of the floor.

Yoongi is standing along with you, cheeks flushed and eyes filled with worry. An apology on his lips as his hand runs through his hair. “He's just tired,” You're assuring him, offering a small smile up to him before you're leaving the room with a sniffling Hyunki in your arms - bringing him into his room.

He's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, quiet fits dying down into soft snores as his fatigue takes over. And now you're unbelievably aware of the man waiting in your kitchen – surrounded by toys and bodyguards waiting for you. Waiting for the explanation that you promised him.

Hyunki had been a welcomed distraction in the time that he was in your house and now that he was asleep...

“Hey... I didn't mean to make him upset. I was just-” Yoongi is walking toward you the moment you've entered the kitchen. His guards cleaning up the mess that had been left leading you to wonder what exactly was in their job description.

A small smile spreads across your lips, hand landing on his arm. “Shh, no. It wasn't you, Yoon. Don't worry. He gets like that when he's sleepy. He's probably been fighting it for a while.”

Yoongi's nodding, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “He's a great kid. Reminds me a lot of you.” His words are surprising you, pulling a soft laugh from your lips.

“Yeah, right. That kid is literally a clone of you. Down to the gummy smile.” He's smiling wide at that, obviously had noticed how his kid had the same smile like him. The one that he's flashing at you right now, making your heart stutter and lifting the corners of your lips.

There's warmth surrounding the two of you, comfort with being around each other after so long. Hearing the sound of your laughs that fill the room. As if nothing has changed. Yet so much has. And Yoongi is being reminded of that, instantly.

He's shifting back into the nervousness he felt standing outside of your house earlier. Clearing his throat, he lifts his hand to push his hair back on his head shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Should we, uhm. Talk? About... you know?”

Your hand drops from his body as you nod your head, letting out a huffed breath. “Yeah, we should.” Pointing your nose toward the table, Yoongi is following behind you – settling in the spot across from you.

It's awkward for a moment. Just sat across from each other no idea where to start – what to say. You're waiting for him to ask, say something. Give you a clue where you should start. But he doesn't. His mind is too busy racing, trying to fill in the blanks while waiting for you to speak.

You're both realizing that you're waiting for the other at the same time. Words overlapping as you try to fill the silence. “I was-” “Why'd you-” Both of you stop short in your sentence, eyes flickering up to each other.

He laughs, the sound instantly easing your spiked nerves. Enough to have a laugh falling from your lips as well. “It's me, Yn. We can talk comfortably.” He's smiling, but there's anxiety behind it.

Of which he's trying to mask, so you ignore it.

“Okay, so. Uh.” Eyes darting around the room as if you're searching for the right place to start. “A few weeks before I left. I wasn't feeling great. Upset stomach in the mornings, lethargic, and then I was late.”

He's sat back in his chair, listening closely to your words. Not daring to say anything, just waiting to hear what explanation you could have.

“And you know you and I stopped using condoms and I was never great at remembering to take birth control.” Of all the times he had to remind you to take your pill in the morning, laughing with a roll of his eyes when you'd tell him you forgot. “So one night you were spending the night at the studio, so I went get a test. I didn't want to say anything yet, because I wanted to be sure first, you know?”

Heart starting to feel heavy at the memory, all the feelings coming back to you at once of what happened when you took the test. When you saw those pink double lines staring back at you.

“It was positive. And I honestly felt like my entire world shifted. Happy. But scared, you know? We talked about kids before, but it was soon? But I was still happy. And scared. So I had to get advice about what to do. So I went to talk to Min Yeong.”

Yoongi recognizes the name instantly. How could he not? One of the younger girls on his management team. Only a few years older than him and the two of you always seemed to hit it off. She was older, wiser, and gave great advice when it came to womanly issues.

Why wouldn't you go to her?

“She told me to talk to you. That you would help me sort my feelings out and this was a decision we should make together. You know? And it made sense to me. I just couldn't find the words. So I waited. And a few days go by and I'm getting a call.... from your company.”

He's following the story, watching the lines crease in your face as you go on. Can see the sadness clouding your eyes and he fights the urge to reach for your hand – wanting to hear how this story ends before he's reaching out for you.

“I go in for a meeting and there's two lawyers there, Min Yeong and the CEO. Two papers on the table. The contract they signed you with and another blank one right beside it.” The tightness forms in your chest as you're reminded of the words that were spoken to you the moment you were sitting down at the end of the long table.

“'If you won't choose, we'll make him choose. Which one do you think he'll pick?'” The tears are welling up in your eyes, but you blink them away. The moment had passed, even though the feelings were raw. You shouldn't still be crying over this. “The blank contract was for me. Lasting of two years, if I were to keep the baby – to leave. They'd help with making me disappear, change my number, and clean out the house without you knowing. All I had to do was sign. If not...”

Eyes shifting up to find Yoongi, he looks as if he's holding his breath. Afraid of what's to come next. To know what made you sign that stupid paper. Leave him behind as if it were nothing. As if he was nothing.

“If not. If I decided to keep the baby and stay with you, they'd rip up your contract. Release you from the company – setting you back to square one. And if I couldn't make up my mind, they'd bring you in. Have you decide.” Not being able to fight it anymore, the tear you've been holding back falls from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

It made sense... why you had said you should've trusted him when he was first seeing you again. All of it started to click in his mind the more he listened to you. You didn't trust him. Thought he'd choose a stupid job over you. A family with you.

So you bolted before he had the chance to prove you wrong.

“Are you serious, Yn!?” Anger laced in his words. He had spent three years looking for you. All the times he's gone through management to try and find you when you were under their thumb the entire time. “You really thought I wouldn't have chosen you?” Curious to know the answer, honestly.

If he had given you any reason to think that he would leave you – the way you had left him, how could you just leave him?

“No, Yoongi. I didn't-” You start but he's doesn't give you the chance to finish. Words cutting over yours, mind searching for a reason. What he could've done to make you think he wouldn't be there for you. That he wouldn't love you.

Was he not clear about how important you were to him?

“You didn't, what? Trust me? Yn. You were pregnant with my kid. My baby. What on Earth could convince you that I wouldn't want to be apart of that?”

He's never raised his voice at you before. Not the way that he is now. Not exactly yelling, but the sternness in his tone has a chill running down your spine. “Yoongi, please. I didn't want to make you choose. You had pushed your album back three times already and they were getting impatient... and I...”

Trailing off, you force the words from your mouth. Taking around cotton balls it felt like. “I wasn't even sure I was going to keep it,” Words hushed, never saying that out loud before. But you had thought about it, not wanting your life to end before it even started.

The tears are falling freely, head lowered as thick sobs leave your lips. Yoongi's instantly calming at the sound of your cries, hand reaching out for yours. Fingers lacing together as his thumb soothes over your knuckles. “I'm so sorry, Yoongi...” You're speaking through sobs, hand lifting to wipe the tears. Which is useless because more flow faster.

“I-I was scared. And I didn't know what to do. I want-ted to talk to you, but... everything changed so fast.” A mistake. That you made out of fear. No telling how you would've felt. Twenty-one years old. A kid, faced with men in suits stealing away a decision that should've been yours. And only yours.

He felt for you. Heart ached for you. Wanted to make up for the lost time with you. With his son. This? None of this was your fault. And he couldn't continue to blame you for it. Yes, you signed the papers. You agreed to leave – but because you had, you must've felt like you had no choice.

And that had nothing to do with him or your relationship. A relationship that was now bruised, bent – but he was willing to work on it. Together. To be with you.

“Shh, baby.” Soft voicing soothing your tears, putting a quiet halt to them as your eyes lift to focus on him. “I love you so much, you know that right?” You're nodding, sniffing down the last bit of your tears.

Soft fingers rubbing against your cool hand. “I love you too.” You reply automatically, an instinct at this point. Never did you stop loving him, how could you? It was Yoongi and he was it for you.

“We're gonna be okay.” Trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince you. But he has hope. Faith in your relationship that the two of you would work out.

And he was sure in his heart that you felt the same.

— when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Honey, Flowers and Pinky Promises - Fred Weasley

Title: Honey, Flowers and Pinky Promises Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred denies himself the one thing he wants most in life, a future with Y/N, to keep her safe. So, what’s he to do 5 years later when she reappears in his life, safe from harm and with their future together already started. A/N: For the anon who wanted Fred breaking up with the reader before he leaves school, only to find out she gave birth to his kids a few years later! This was actually a very cute idea and very fun to write! As always feedback is appreciated and requests are open!!

tag list: @pandaxnienke @feltondarling (send a message if you'd like to be added!)

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“Everything is all set,” George says quietly as he takes a seat next to Fred at dinner. “I figured out where our brooms are, and I found the spell we’ll need to get them out of the enchantments Umbridge has them locked up with.”

Fred hums and nods absentmindedly, not really paying attention to what George is saying. He’s too busy watching Y/N. She’s sitting a few seats away with her friends, laughing at something one of them has said. Y/N looks absolutely gorgeous and carefree, and Fred’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches her.

“Everything all set on your end?” George asks, nudging Fred.

“Almost,” he responds. When George smacks him upside the head Fred finally turns to glare at him. “What the hell was that for?” he asks, rubbing at the spot George’s hand hit.

“I did all the hard stuff! All you had to do was pack the bags and set up the swamp for us to set off,” George scolds. “We leave tomorrow, Fred!”

Fred rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I was talking about git.” He turns in his seat so he can look at Y/N again. “Bags are set and so is the prank.”

“Oh,” George says softly, feeling stupid. He follows Fred’s gaze and frowns. “You haven’t told Y/N yet?”

“No,” he admits. “She’s not going to like what I have to say so I’ve been putting it off for a few days to get as much time with her as possible.”

“I thought Y/N supported the whole joke shop thing?” George asks, his confusion evident in his tone. “There’s only two months of school left, I can’t imagine she’ll be that mad.”

Fred bites his lip and tears his gaze away from Y/N so he can look at George. “It’s not the joke shop she’s going to be mad about.” Fred swallows thickly. “It’s the fact that I’m going to break up with her that’s going to upset her.”

“What?” George asks in shock as his eyes widen. “You’re joking right?” When Fred doesn’t move George hits him. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Fred whispers, hanging his head. “It’s for the best.”

George nudges Fred so he’ll look up at him. “What do you mean? You’re madly in love with her and she’s madly in love with you, how can breaking up with her be a good thing?” George leans forward to whisper in Fred’s ear. “You’ve talked about marrying her, Fred. What changed?”

“The world has changed, George,” Fred says suddenly, scaring his brother. “Percy disowning us, us joining the Order, our family being a target for You-Know-Who and the death eaters. I can’t bring her into that, I can’t risk her life like that.” Fred clenches his fist. “I love her too much to let her get hurt.”

“So, you’re going to break up with her, to keep her safe?” George asks, trying to understand Fred’s point of view.

“I know it seems weird but it’s the only way that I can keep her safe. Even if it kills me to do it,” Fred sighs. He lets himself look at Y/N again, and his heart breaks when she returns his gaze and smiles at him warmly.

“Freddie,” Y/N greets as she takes the last few steps down the staircase and into the common room. It’s well past midnight, and Fred had left Y/N a note to meet him downstairs. She moves over to him quickly and sits next to him on the couch. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week.”

Fred resists his urge to cuddle her close and leans in to kiss her briefly. “Sorry, love. Been busy doing stuff with George,” he lies. Truthfully Fred has been distancing himself from her over the past few days. He knows breaking up with her is for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Y/N is like a drug to him, the more he’s around her the more he craves her touch and her presence. If he allowed himself to spend every waking moment with her like he desired he’d never get the nerve to end it.

“Joke shop stuff?” Y/N asks excitedly and when Fred nods she smiles at him. “I’m so proud of you, Freddie. You’re working so hard on all that stuff with George, and I just know you guys are going to make it big.”

“Thanks, love,” Fred says quietly, praying that his voice doesn’t crack. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, taking a deep breath in. She smells like honey and flowers and Fred thinks it’s the most comforting scent in the world. Normally it would make all the stress leave his body, but tonight it punches a hole in his chest.

Y/N pulls away from Fred and cups his cheek so she can make him look her in the eyes. “What’s wrong, Fred?” The use of his actual name knocks the air out of Fred’s lungs. He’s always Freddie to her, unless they’re talking about something serious. “You’re not acting like yourself. What’s going on?”

Fred moves away from Y/N further down the couch, and he puts his hand up to stop her from following him. “We need to talk about something.” He can feel tears forming in the back of his eyes and he blinks furiously, trying to keep them at bay. “We can’t, we can’t see each other anymore. Be together anymore.”

“What?” Y/N asks, her voice cracking. Tears spring to her eyes and start to slowly wander down her cheeks as confusion and sadness start to flow through her veins. At dinner just that evening Y/N had mentioned to her friends that she suspected Fred was going to propose after graduation, and just a few hours later he’s shattering her heart into a million pieces.

“I’m breaking up with you, Y/N,” Fred says clearer, his bottom lip trembling. “We’re done. Over with. I can’t be with you anymore.”

Y/N sobs and when she reaches out to grab Fred he stands up quickly. “Don’t do this Fred, please. I thought everything was okay with us. What went wrong? I can fix it Fred, please.” She wipes away some of her tears, but fresh ones just keep replacing them when she looks into Fred’s cold, emotionless face. “I love you Fred. Don’t you love me too?”

Fred closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at the pure heartbreak on Y/N’s face. He loves her more than life itself, and that’s why he has to do this. “I don’t love you anymore,” he says coldly, opening his eyes to look Y/N in hers. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, before turning around and heading up to his dorm, the echoes of Y/N’s sobs following behind him.

Y/N doesn’t think much of it when her period doesn’t arrive like it’s supposed to three days after Fred and George leave school. She just had her heart broken by the boy she thought would be her forever, so it makes sense to her when she misses it completely. And when she starts to feel lethargic and has random nausea spells in the following few weeks Y/N attributes it to stress; her chest still aches with the thought of Fred and NEWTS are coming up.

Y/N doesn’t start to panic that it may be something more until she misses another period. Her chest still feels empty without Fred, but she’s just graduated and she’s excited for her life to continue on. But the nausea is still there, and her ankles have started to swell, and she can’t help but notice that her boobs are sore pretty much all day every day. When she wakes up one morning and the smell of her mother cooking eggs sends her heaving into the toilet, Y/N can’t deny what she’s known deep down for weeks. She takes a test that afternoon and confirms her fears.

Pregnant.

Her parents are upset when she tells them the next day, and they urge her to send an owl to Fred immediately. By this point it’s no secret to anyone what Fred and George are up to, their joke shop has been open for weeks now and is the talk of the wizarding world. Y/N has often thought about heading to Diagon Alley to check up on Fred, but she always resists those urges. Fred was her first thought when she saw that little pink plus sign, but she can’t bring herself to tell him. Fred clearly didn’t want her to be a part of his future, and she’s not sure she’s ready to let him be a part of this future with her.

Y/N is 10 weeks along when her mother escorts her to her first doctors’ appointment, and to no one’s surprise its twins. Up until this point her parents had been adamant that she consider adoption as well, but as soon as the doctor announces its twins, Y/N’s decision to become a mother is solidified. These babies are going to be the perfect combination of her and Fred, her last connection to the boy she still loves.

Y/N gets a job doing copywrite work for the daily prophet, and a hefty inheritance from her grandfather allows Y/N to move to a cute brownstone in London when she’s eight months pregnant. She avoids Diagon Alley like the plague, too afraid of running into Fred or George. Her family and friends try and convince her to reach out to Fred, and Y/N really does try. She has dozens of unsent letters in a box under her bed, dating all the way back to the day she found out she was pregnant. Y/N thinks about sending them often, but her stomach lurches each time she tries to.

She gives birth to a perfect, healthy baby boy and an equally perfect and healthy baby girl on a snowy day in December. Y/N names her son Phoenix, to match the fiery red hair that’s already sprouting out of his tender head. And she names her daughter Electra, to match her bright eyes and to remind Y/N that she and her brother are the light at the end of a very dark road. They both remind her so much of Fred, and it makes her journey into parenthood harder than she thought it would be.

The war is tough on everyone, but Y/N manages to survive it. It’s hard, raising two children alone during the darkest times anyone has seen, but it builds her confidence in her parenting abilities. She falls in love with herself and being a mother, and it only strengthens the bond she has with the twins. They’re without a doubt the best thing that has ever happened to her and watching them grow swells her chest with pride. In the blink of an eye the twins are 4, and the world Y/N had created for them suddenly comes crashing down.

“Damn,” Y/N mutters to herself as she examines the jar that usually holds Abraxan hair. “Forgot to get more.” She’s not the best at potion making, but she had found one in her youth that will temporarily change the color of your hair, and Electra had woken up that morning with the desire to turn her fiery red locks purple.

“Mummy said a bad word,” Phoenix teases, kicking his legs excitedly.

Y/N turns around and playfully rolls her eyes at the twins. They’re sitting at the table gobbling down pancakes as per usual. While they both sport the same red hair as their father, Phoenix is the spitting image of Fred, and it used to make Y/N’s heart ache. But it’s been almost 5 years since Fred broke her heart, and the pain no longer lingers. Electra takes after Y/N, her soft features and eyes nearly identical to her own. Unfortunately for Y/N they both inherited Fred’s love for pranks and jokes, and she finds herself collapsing into bed every night exhausted from the mischief they create.

“That’s because Mummy is allowed to say bad words,” Y/N teases. She puts out the fire beneath the cauldron she’d been brewing her potion in before taking a seat at the table with her kids. “We’re going to have to run into Diagon Alley after breakfast. I need to stock up on some things to make your potion, Ellie.”

“So, you can say shit, but we can’t?” Ellie pouts, putting her fork down.

“Hey!” Y/N says, trying not to laugh. “What did I just say? Bad words are for adults to use during the appropriate situation. They’re not for little kids to say at the breakfast table.”

“That’s so not fair,” Phoenix sighs, putting his fork down as well. “How old do we have to be to be adults?”

Y/N takes a sip of her coffee, shaking her head. “Older than 4 I can tell you that.”

“Five then?” Electra asks excitedly, her eyes lighting up.

Y/N gives both twins a look that makes them burst out into a fit of giggles. “Hurry up and finish your breakfast or we’ll never make it to Diagon Alley before it gets crowded.”

45 minutes later Y/N apparates into Diagon Alley, a twin holding each hand. Normally she avoids taking the twins with her whenever she needs to shop, fearful that Fred may be lurking around every corner. But she just needs to grab a few things, and it’s early enough that most of the stores are closed, and when Y/N looks over her shoulder it seems that Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is no exception.

“Here come on. We just need to grab a few things and then we’ll go home, and I’ll be able to put the potion in your hair, sound good?” Both twins nod excitedly and Y/N smiles at them. “And no running away!” she adds with a laugh, before pulling them both into the store behind her.

“There were just the cutest little red head twins outside,” Verity calls dreamily from her place in the front window. They’re still a few minutes from opening, so she’s waiting by the door for it to be time to unlock it.

Fred comes down the last few steps from his flat into the shop, fixing his tie. He comes to stand next to Verity, peering out the window with her. “Really? George and I better watch out, they may try and steal out thunder,” he jokes.

It’s started to barely snow when the door to the Potion supply store just down the road swings open, and two little kids with fiery hair are running out to twirl around in the snow. Fred goes to say something, but his mouth runs dry when someone else follows the kids out. “Y/N?” he asks, almost unable to believe what he’s seeing. He hasn’t seen her in almost five years, and his heart has started to pound in his chest.

“You know her?” Verity asks, watching as Y/N chases the two little kids around in the snow.

Fred nods, almost unable to believe what he’s seeing. Y/N is there in front of him and Fred’s blood runs cold as he watches the little girl run into Y/N’s arms. “Hey Verity. How old do you reckon those kids are?” Fred has a few nieces, but he’s absolute shit at telling how old kids are.

Verity hums, watching them closely. “I’d say anywhere from 4 to maybe 6? It’s kinda hard to tell through the window but they’re definitely no younger than 3.” Fred makes a noise from behind her, and she turns to look at him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Fred just stands there, unable to form a coherent sentence as his brain puts the pieces together. Not only is Y/N out there with two young children, they both have fiery red hair that looks quite like his, and their approximate age makes it very likely that Y/N could have been pregnant with them during their last year when he broke up with her.

Before Fred has truly processed the fact that those very well might be his children playing in the snow, he’s throwing the door to the joke shop open and heading out into the cold. Both of the kids are giggling like crazy, and it makes Fred’s knees quiver as he approaches. “Y/N!” Fred calls when he’s only a few feet away.

Y/N freezes at the sound of her voice being called by someone far too familiar. She grabs a hand of each twin and pulls them close to her side as she stands up. “Fred,” she says flatly, looking up at him. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest, and she can’t help but look Fred up and down. He looks older, more mature, but still so familiar to Y/N.

“What are you? What is? Who are?” Fred stutters as he tries to find just the right words.

He lets his eyes wander from Y/N’s face down to the two little kids standing at her side. Both of their cheeks are flushed red from the cold, and as Fred looks at the little girl there’s no denying that she’s Y/N’s daughter. Her eyes are the same color as her mother’s, and her cheeks have the same roundness. He looks to the other child then, and his jaw nearly drops. It’s as if he’s looking at a baby photo of himself that his mother has hanging on the walls of the Burrow. The little boy has the same brown eyes as Fred, and an almost identical freckle pattern splashed across his cheeks. If there was any doubt in Fred’s mind before it’s gone now. There is no denying that he’s the father of these children.

“Mummy,” Electra asks, tugging on Y/N’s hand. She waits for her mother to look at her before she continues. “Who is that?” she asks, pointing towards Fred.

Y/N swallows thickly and squats down so she’s eyelevel with the kids. “That’s Mummy’s friend Fred, from school. I’ve told you about him and his brother, George. Remember?” She gestures behind Fred, towards the shop. “They own the joke store where Papa buys all those little things for you two to prank me with.”

Both twins giggle at that, looking at Fred with awe. He can barely believe the words he’s hearing, and he’s frozen in place. The little boy lets go of Y/N’s hand and takes a few steps towards Fred and holds his hand out.

“It’s great to meet you, Mr. Fred,” Phoenix greets. When Fred tentatively bends down and shakes his little hand, he smiles. “I’m Phoenix and that,” he pauses so he can turn back to point at his sister. “Is my baby sister, Electra.”

“Only by 5 minutes!” Electra shouts, running towards her brother. Phoenix takes off then, and Fred watches as they chase each other around in the snow, the wind blowing through their hair and both of them laughing like crazy.

“They just turned four, in December,” Y/N says as she stands up.

Fred tears his gaze away from them so he can look at Y/N. “How could you not tell me?”

Y/N shrugs and looks away from Fred’s intense stare. “You made it pretty clear that I had no place in your life or in your future, I didn’t want to go through that again. And I didn’t want to share them with you, if I’m honest.”

“Share them with me?” Fred asks, trying to contain his anger. “They’re my kids Y/N. Not some stupid toy.”

“Obviously I know that, Fred,” Y/N sneers with a glare. “But I was barely 18 when I found out I was pregnant, and I’d just had my heart shattered out of nowhere by the guy I thought I was going to marry. So, excuse me for not running right to you. I was freaking out when I found out I was pregnant and being rejected by you for a second time wasn’t high on my list of priorities.”

“I still deserved to know,” Fred responds, less angry. He hadn’t of even thought about that. Of course, Y/N would have been scared and unwilling to come to him. He still can’t think about the night he ended things without getting emotional, and he can’t imagine how it felt for Y/N, especially finding out she was pregnant only a few months later.

“I know, I know,” Y/N admits sadly. They both just look at each other for a moment, the twins still running in circles around them.

“Where do we go from here? I can’t just pretend they don’t exist,” Fred says quietly. “I want to be in their lives, Y/N. I need to be.” Fred pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. “But there’s things we need to talk about. About that night, the things I said to you. Can we do that, please?”

Y/N nods and reaches into her bag for a spare piece of parchment and a pen. She scribbles something down and reaches out to hand it to Fred. “Here’s my address. Come by tonight? The kids go down at 8 so come any time after that, we won’t have to worry about any little ears listening in.”

Fred grabs the piece of parchment, letting his hand linger on Y/N’s for just a moment. The contact sends a shiver down his spine and Fred thinks his heart might just beat out of his chest. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Great.” Y/N calls both kids back to her, and they each wave at Fred before taking their mother’s hand and apperating away.

“Mummy?” Electra asks that evening as Y/N is getting her and her brother ready for bed. The twins are standing on little stools and brushing their teeth while Y/N runs a comb through their freshly washed hair.

“Yes, my love?” Y/N responds, making eye contact with her in the mirror.

“When can we see your friend again?” Electra asks once she’s spat her toothpaste foam into the sink. “The one from today?”

Y/N bites her lip and starts to braid Electra’s hair. “You mean Fred?” Electra nods as best she can and Phoenix nods excitedly next to her. “You guys like Fred?”

“He’s so tall!” Phoenix muses with a giggle. “You think I’m ever gonna be that tall, Mummy?”

Despite the fact that they’re the same age, Phoenix is already a few inches taller than Electra. He clearly takes after Fred, so Y/N is sure that he’ll end up being just as tall as his dad. “I think you might be, bud.”

“And he’s got red hair like us!” Electra adds with a giggle. “I’ve never met anyone with red hair before.”

“Well your hair isn’t red right now,” Y/N teases as she wraps a hair tie around the end of Electra’s braid. Her potion making was successful, and for the next few days Electra’s hair will be a soft purple color. “Can I tell you guys something crazy?” Both of the twins turn so they can look at Y/N and nod happily. “Everyone in Fred’s family has red hair.”

“No way!” Electra and Phoenix gasp at the same time.

“Everyone?” Phoenix asks in awe.

Y/N nods and reaches out to ruffle his still damp hair. “Every single one. And you guys have something else in common with Fred too.”

“What is it? What is it? What is it?” Electra asks excitedly, bouncing on her stool.

“Fred is a twin too,” she says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Electra’s forehead. “His brother George that he runs his store with is his identical twin.”

Phoenix hops off of his stool so he can come over and hug Y/N’s leg. “Wicked. So, we can see him again?”

“Maybe, sweetheart. I’m not sure yet,” Y/N says honestly. Fred wants to be in their lives, but they still have so many unresolved issues. The last thing she wants to do is get their hopes up only for Fred to be gone just as quickly as he came.

Electra wraps her arms around Y/N’s middle and hugs her close. “Please Mummy,” she begs, looking up at her with wide eyes. “He seemed really nice. And he was really cute!”

“Electra,” Y/N laughs. “That’s enough out of you. Fred is my friend and I won’t be having any talk like that.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Phoenix teases, looking up at Y/N with a cheeky grin.

He looks so much like Fred in that moment, and it nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs. “You two are crazy. It’s time for bed, monkeys. Let’s go.”

“That wasn’t a no!” Electra shouts as she jumps from her stool and follows her brother out of the bathroom.

Y/N has just come down the stairs from putting the kids to bed when there’s a soft knock at the door. She sighs as she looks around at the mess her living room as turned into. Y/N planned on cleaning up a bit before Fred arrived, but it took forever to calm the twins down after their conversation in the bathroom. She’d had to read them two stories and admit she thought Fred was cute before they would drift off.

“Hey, come on in,” Y/N greets as she pulls the door open for Fred. This is the first time she’s seen him up close, and he’s just as handsome as she remembers. Y/N tries to calm her heartbeat down as she shuts the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. The twins have just started getting their magic and it’s hard to keep up with them.”

Both Electra and Phoenix had started to exhibit signs of magic just after their fourth birthday, and ever since they’ve been more chaotic than usual. If Y/N didn’t know any better she would think that they somehow have managed to already control what little magic they have, because it always seems like they’re working together to cause as big of a mess as possible.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred says as Y/N waves her wand, watching as things fly back into place. “George and I gave Mum a run for her money, so I’d expect nothing less from my children.” The words feel funny in his mouth. His children. As exciting as the idea of being a dad is, Fred would be lying if he said he also wasn’t scared shitless.

“Can I get you something? Wine? Firewhiskey? Tea?” Y/N asks, gesturing for Fred to take a seat on the couch.

Fred sits down slowly, watching Y/N fidget. “Most people assume I drink coffee.”

“Well I’m not most people,” Y/N responds, flushing slightly.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Fred says quietly. “I’m alright, Y/N. Thanks though.”

Y/N nods and sits down next to Fred, making sure to keep a good amount of distance between them. “So,” she starts, looking over at Fred. “Where do we even begin?”

“I don’t have any idea,” Fred answers truthfully. “I never really thought I’d ever be having a conversation like this. There’s so much I wanna say to you. And stuff I wanna ask you. But I have no idea where to start.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Can I ask you a question?” When Fred nods she takes a deep breath to try and calm herself. There are things she needs to know the answer to, no matter how much it hurts. “Why did you break up with me? It came out of nowhere, for me at least. One minute we were talking about building a life together and the next, you were gone.”

“There was a lot of stuff going on, with my family,” Fred starts, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “My parents were a part of this secret society founded by Dumbledore to fight Voldemort called the Order of the Phoenix. And just before Christmas break my dad was almost killed by Voldemort’s snake during a mission.”

“Fred,” Y/N says softly, fighting her urge to reach out and grab his hand. “How come you never told me any of this?”

“I wasn’t allowed to, Dumbledore’s orders. But going through all that, it made me think about stuff. About me and you and life outside of Hogwarts. George and I decided that we would join the Order once we left school, and I couldn’t put your life in jeopardy like that, Y/N. Our family was being targeted by death eaters and followed around. I knew it would only get worse as time went on. And if you had gotten hurt because of me, I would never be able to forgive myself,” Fred pauses, running a hand through his hair. “So, when George and I decided to leave school early to start the shop, I decided it would be best to end things with you. That’s the only way I knew to keep you safe.”

“So, you didn’t just randomly stop loving me?” Y/N asks meekly.

“God no,” Fred answers immediately. “Y/N I loved you more than life itself. If I knew you were pregnant, or you came and told me I would have grabbed you and ran as far away from Voldemort as possible. It killed me to lie to you like that, but I wanted you to be safe and happy, even if it meant that it wasn’t with me.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she lets out a groan when the phone rings. “Probably my Mum, I’ll be right back. If I don’t answer she’ll just show up and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

Fred laughs as Y/N walks away, unable to stop himself from watching. Having children has done great things to her body, and he can’t help but appreciate it. He’s thinking about how beautiful she still is when the sound of soft pattering on the stairs catches his attention.

“Fred?” Electra asks, her lower lip wobbling as tears streak down her face. “Where’s my Mummy?”

“She’s in the kitchen. Do you want me to go get her?” Electra shakes her head, and before Fred can process what’s happening she’s heading towards him with her arms outstretched. Without hesitation Fred picks her up and places her in his lap. Her little legs wrap around his middle and she tucks her arms into her chest before resting her head on his shoulder. Fred’s hands shake as he hugs her to him tightly, one of his hands coming up to stroke her hair. “What’s wrong, Angel?”

“Bad dream,” she sniffles.

Fred’s heart melts as she snuggles in closer, and he starts to slowly rub her back. “It’s alright, Angel. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.” He presses his cheek to the top of her head and inhales deeply, the familiar scent of honey and flowers overwhelming his senses. His chest aches as Electra, his daughter, cries, and he so desperately just wants to make her feel better. “I’m right here, Angel. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Promise?” Electra asks, pulling away to look at Fred.

Fred leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. He’s aware that he’s probably breaking about 100 boundaries, but he can’t find it in his heart to care. His little girl is sitting in his lap crying and he’s going to make sure she knows he cares for her. “Promise,” he answers, holding out his pinky finger.

Electra lets out a giggle and hooks one of her pinkies around Fred’s. “You have to keep it now, forever,” Electra reminds him, squeezing his pinky tight.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Fred presses another kiss to her forehead before he wipes away some of her tears. “Feeling better now?”

“Loads,” Electra confirms with a nod. She bites her lip, giving Fred a look. “Can I ask you a question?”

Fred chuckles. “Sure, Angel. What’s on your mind?”

“Do you think my Mummy is pretty?” she asks, shocking Fred. “Because she thinks you’re cute.”

“Does she?” Fred asks in surprise. Of course, Fred had hoped Y/N would still find him attractive, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about her since this morning. He never imagined that he’d be reunited with Y/N so he never let himself imagine creating a future with her, but now she’s back in his life with his kids and Fred would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about what that could mean for them.

“Mhm, she told me and Phoenix before we went to bed.” Electra nudges him. “So, do you think she’s pretty?”

Fred smiles at her. “Don’t tell her, but I think your Mummy is absolutely gorgeous,” he tells her quietly.

Electra giggles excitedly and hugs Fred tightly. “I think you should ask her to be your girlfriend. Mummy’s never had a boyfriend even though Grandma keeps trying to give her one.”

“Oh?” Fred asks, raising his eyebrows at her. “And how do you know all this?”

“I can be real quiet when I want to be,” Electra answers, giving him a cheeky smile and a wink. “Papa thinks it’s because she’s still in love with our Daddy.”

Fred practically chokes on his saliva and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He can hear his heart pounding in his chest and his pulse is thrumming. “Do you know a lot? About your Daddy?” he asks, unable to stop the question from coming out.

Electra shakes her head. “Mummy doesn’t talk about him a lot. Only if Phoenix and I ask. She tells us stories sometimes and talks about how funny and kind he is. And that they loved each other tons. But that’s it.”

“Does it make you sad? That you don’t know a lot about him?” Fred asks. This is definitely not an appropriate conversation to have with a four-year-old, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

“Sometimes,” Electra answers with a shrug. “I love Mummy so so much and she’s the best Mummy in the world. But I think it would be nice, to have my Daddy around too. And I think it would make her happier too.”

“What would make who happier?” Y/N asks as she comes back into the room.

“Nothing. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Electra answers, winking at Fred.

Y/N crosses her arms and gives the girl a look. “What are you doing out of bed, Ellie?”

“I had a bad dream. But it’s okay, Fred made me feel better.”

“Well that was very nice of Fred to do,” Y/N says quietly. “But since you’re feeling better I guess you can get back in to bed now, hm?”

“I guess,” Electra pouts. “Can I ask you a question first?” she asks, holding her arms out for Y/N to pick her up.

“I suppose,” Y/N answers, picking her up and settling her on her hip.

“How come you lied to us? Before bed you said you didn’t know if we’d see Fred again, but here he is, sitting on our couch.” Electra’s tone is stern, and her eyes are narrowed at Y/N.

Y/N laughs. “I never said I wasn’t going to see Fred again. I said I wasn’t sure you and your brother were going to see Fred again.” Electra frowns at that and Y/N presses a kiss to her forehead. “Now say goodnight to Fred.”

“Goodnight, Fred,” Electra grumbles as Y/N starts to head back up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Angel,” Fred says back with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry about her,” Y/N says as she comes back down the stairs a few minutes later. “I hope she didn’t say anything too crazy.”

“Nothing too bad,” Fred reassures with a laugh. “Though she did mention she’s quite the eavesdropper, so I’d keep an eye on her.”

Y/N groans as she flops onto the couch. “She told you about the boyfriend thing then?” When Fred nods she groans again, her cheeks heating up. “It’s all she’s talked about for weeks, literally anyone that will listen to her gets to hear about the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I think it’s cute,” Fred insists. “She clearly loves you a lot and just wants you to be happy.” Fred bites his lip. “How come you don’t date? If you don’t mind me asking. Electra has theories but I’d like to hear from you.”

“Of course, she does,” Y/N says with a laugh. “Truthfully, I’ve never had the desire to date anyone else. I always say it’s because the kids are young, and I don’t want to confuse them or bring people around them, but I have gone on a few dates here and there. No one ever feels like the right fit. We were together for so long that everything just always seemed so natural between us. Like we always knew what the other was thinking. Trying to date other people just feels weird, and artificial.”

Fred nods, running a hand through his hair. “I feel you. I’ve had my fair share of failed relationships over the past few years. I think the longest one lasted maybe three months?” he sighs. “I realized I kept trying to recreate what we had with every girl I dated and it’s not fair to them. What we had was special. Irreplaceable.”

Y/N watches Fred for a moment. Before today she had been positive she moved on from Fred, he hardly occupied her thoughts anymore and her chest would only occasionally ache. But after seeing him today, finding out the truth about what happened that night. She can’t help but notice that feelings for Fred she buried long ago have started to rise up again with full force.

“So, you’re not seeing anyone right now?” Y/N asks quietly.

Fred shakes his head and turns so he’s facing Y/N fully. “No, and I haven’t been for quite a while.” He looks her up and down, trying to decide what to say next. “But there is this woman, who I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I saw her today.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks coyly, subtly moving a bit closer to Fred.

“Yeah. And just a few minutes ago her daughter was telling me how cute her Mum thinks I am, and that I should be her boyfriend.” Fred smirks as Y/N’s cheeks flush red. “And I couldn’t help but tell her daughter just how breathtakingly beautiful I find her Mother.”

Instead of responding, Y/N chooses to be bold and she grabs the front of Fred’s shirt, pulling him into a slow kiss. Their lips move together just as perfectly as they always have, making it seem like no time has passed between them at all. Y/N moans as Fred deepens the kiss, letting him pull her onto his lap.

“You’re incredible,” Fred pants as they pull away. He leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. You have no idea.”

“I’ve missed you too, Freddie.” Y/N buries her face in Fred’s neck, letting him hug her close. They sit there in silence for a few moments, just enjoying being together again.

“How should we tell them?” Fred asks, breaking the silence. “About who I really am? I’m okay, with being just your friend Fred for a bit while we figure everything out. That might make it easier.”

Y/N pulls away and gingerly grabs Fred’s face. “You deserve to be in their life as their dad and they deserve to have you in their life that way too. I thought seeing you with them would fill me with jealousy but honestly, seeing you with Electra, it made my heart burst with happiness. And Phoenix would not shut up about you before bed, it was actually really cute.”

Fred chuckles. “They’re just like their Mum, can’t resist my charm.”

Y/N flicks Fred on the nose and then kisses the same spot. “I’ve been thinking about how to tell them throughout the day and I think I have a good idea. All you have to do is come by again tomorrow, around 8 again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Fred murmurs, before pulling Y/N into another heated kiss.

“Alright guys, it’s time to start getting ready for bed,” Y/N says as she walks into Electra’s room the next night. Both kids groan and turn to pout at their mother.

“Five more minutes,” Phoenix begs.

“Please, Mummy!” Electra adds.

“You can have five more minutes.” When both of them cheer Y/N puts a finger up to quiet them down. “Or we can start getting ready for bed right now and you’ll get a special bedtime treat. Which would you prefer?”

Phoenix and Electra look at each other for a moment before they drop the toys they’d been holding and run past Y/N into the bathroom.

“Is the special bedtime treat that we get to sleep in bed with you?” Phoenix asks thirty minutes later as he snuggles into Y/N’s pillows.

“Not quite, it’s even better than that,” Y/N responds as she helps Electra on to the bed. She drops to her knees then and grabs a medium sized shoe box before standing back up.

“What’s in the box?” Electra asks as Y/N climbs into bed and settles in between her and Phoenix.

“Well,” Y/N starts, letting her hand slowly drag over the top. “There’s a few different things in here. When I first found out you two were growing in my belly, I started writing letters to your Dad. But I was too scared to send them, so I kept them all in here.”

“Are you going to read them to us?” Phoenix asks softly.

Y/N shakes her head. “Not tonight. There are a few other things in here I want to show you. Inside this box along with all of those letters, is all the pictures I have of your Dad and I from when we were at school together.”

“We get to see them?” Electra asks excitedly.

“Mhm,” Y/N confirms with a nod. “You guys are getting older now and it’s time you know a bit more about him.” Y/N slowly lifts the lid of the box and grabs the small stack of photos on top. She takes a peek at the first one, before holding it out for both of them to see. “This is from our seventh year, we were walking down to Hogsmeade, the little village outside of school. And one of my friends took this picture of your Dad carrying me on his back.”

Electra and Phoenix’s eyes roam over the photo. Fred isn’t very visible in the photo, just his red hair is visible over Y/N’s shoulder. This is one of Y/N’s favorite memories she has of Fred. She’d stubbed her toe just as they left the castle, and Fred had made a spectacle of it. He insisted on carrying her everywhere, no matter how many times Y/N demanded he put her down.

“Show us another one,” Phoenix requests quietly.

“This one is from our sixth year,” Y/N explains as she shows them the photo. “Hogwarts participated in something called the Triwizard Tournament, and there was this great big ball on Christmas.” The photo just captures Y/N and Fred’s side profiles, each of them smiling as Fred sways them side to side.

Electra frowns and her eyebrows knit together as she looks at the photo. “Hey, he looks kinda familiar,” she muses, looking up at Y/N. “I think I’ve seen him before.”

Phoenix pouts. “What? That’s not fair.”

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “Let me show you one more photo, okay?” She takes the next photo and holds it face down for a moment. “This one is just your dad. I took it in front of the black lake just a few weeks into our last year.” Y/N flips the photo over slowly, watching as both Electra and Phoenix focus on it intently.

“Wait a minute, isn’t that,” Electra starts.

“Fred!” Phoenix finishes excitedly. “So, Fred isn’t just your friend?”

“No baby,” Y/N says quietly, trying to keep her emotions in. “Fred was my boyfriend at school, and he’s your Dad.” Y/N pauses, and she hears the front door click shut. “And I think he just walked through the front door.” Both Phoenix and Electra squeal excitedly as they scramble off the bed and head towards the stairs. “Be careful!” Y/N shouts as she starts to follow them.

Fred has barely taken off his coat when he hears the sound of tiny little feet running towards him. He turns towards the stairs just in time to hold out his arms and catch Phoenix and Electra as they jump off the last few steps and into his chest. He wraps one arm around Phoenix and the other around Electra so he can hug them tightly.

“Hello to you too,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to each of their heads. He inhales deeply, overwhelmed once again by the scent of honey and flowers. “You guys miss me that much already? I just saw you yesterday,” Fred jokes, trying to hide how emotional he feels.

“Yeah but yesterday you were just Fred,” Electra giggles.

“Today you’re our Dad,” Phoenix adds with a laugh.

Fred laughs and puts them both down on the ground and crouches so he’s eye level with them. “Is that okay? That I’m your Dad?”

“Is it okay? It’s like the coolest thing ever!” Phoenix insists, hugging Fred again.

Fred returns his hug, rubbing his back. He holds his other arm out and looks at Electra. “What about you, Angel? It is okay with you?”

“Better than okay, Daddy,” Electra confirms, letting Fred hug her tightly.

Y/N comes down the stairs then, tears forming in her eyes as she watches Fred hold their children close. Phoenix is the first to notice her presence, and he pulls away from Fred so Y/N can pick him up.

“Why are you sad, Mummy?” he asks, wiping away a few of the tears that have started to stream down her cheeks.

“I’m not sad, baby,” Y/N insists. “Just really, really happy.”

Fred stands up then and picks up Electra, settling her on his hip. “Hi love,” he greets, leaning forward to kiss Y/N briefly.

Electra squeals in delight as their lips touch, and Phoenix pretends to gag, causing Fred and Y/N to laugh as they pull away.

“Does this mean we get to be a family? Forever?” Electra asks excitedly.

“Forever,” Fred confirms, kissing her on the forehead.

“Pinky promise?” she asks, holding her little pinky out.

Fred hooks his pinky around hers, gesturing for Phoenix and Y/N to do the same. “Promise.”

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fanfiction #fw #golden

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