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spider-man-199999 · 11 months

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gif by @userjoel

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader; Post nwh; not too canon

word count: 6K

warnings: underage drinking for USA citizens; mentions of sex

summary: Peter thought no one remembered him after the spell, however you did, but not for the reasons he was afraid you would. Mostly fluff and slow burn romance.

a/n: I'm a sucker for college!Peter, I literally cannot think about anything else. ANY SCIENCE TALK IS A BUNCH OF BS I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT CHEMISTRY OR SCIENCE.

part2

"Hey, catch!" you heard a male voice from somewhere behind you, making you turn towards the sound. A brown leather football flew throgh the air, landing in your feet. You picked it up, throwing it back to the shirtless man that was jogging in your direction.

"Thanks!!" He said after he caught it, running off back to whoever the other shirtless dude he was playing with was.

"Yeah no problem..." you muttered under your breath, trying to hide how flustered you were.

It was orientation week at Empire State University.

The weather, apparently, was still warm enough to have people running shirtless around campus, and being the shy, awkward geek you were, it was hard not to get embarrassed by any social interaction, let alone one that included both sport and a half-naked man. Overall, orientation week was going well. You checked out a few classes that sparked some interest, went to the library, the gym, even got completely settled in your dorm room. Things were going smoothly, excluding the fact you hadn't really met anyone new. Most of the people in your classes seemed like they already knew at least one person and stuck to them. Since you were not really the type to go out of your way and approach people, it left you walking around campus alone, sitting in class alone and even eating alone. It wasn't all that bad, just lonely. Your roommate hadn't arrived on campus yet either, so everything felt especially odd to you, like you were invisible to everyone.

Four days in and the long walks between buildings were already annoying. It was so easy to get lost or distracted on the way between buildings. You didn't know the shortcuts yet, so it was always a hazard whether you would make it to class on time. Miraculously you got there early, and gave yourself a mental praise for that. You didn't expect to actually be in a lab on the first day of class, and were glad you got there on time because there were barely enough lab coats for everyone in the room. You really didn't want to be the freak who wasn't wearing one. You scanned the room as you sat down on one of the desks, secretly praying that this class wouldn't require having a lab partner or work in groups because it was going to make you feel even worse. And as you were stalking the people around you, your eyes landed on someone who looked suspiciously familiar. He wasn't terribly tall, curly brown hair, one backpack over his shoulder, flannel shirt over a plain white t-shirt and regular blue jeans. You could recognise Peter Parker from miles away. You've never felt so terrified and so excited at the same time. You finally knew someone in this university and it had to be him of all people. He never told you he was going to ESU. In his defense, you couldn't really recall ever speaking to him. You used to have the biggest crush on him back in high school, but never gathered the courage to actually chat him up, even if it were about homework. He never got assigned as your partner on a project either (no matter how many times you would fantasize about it), so you just graduated one day and accepted the fact it just wasn't meant to be.

But now you were presented with the perfect opportunity to actually talk to him and decided to take it. Unfortunately, the class started before you could approach him. You tried your best to keep your focus on the professor, but it seemed as if that was not necessary, he was only going over the main goals of the class and what books you would need. You sneakily looked over Peter from time to time, thinking about what would be best to say to him and not make it awkward.

The class was over in the blink of an eye, which made your heart beat pick up because you no longer had an excuse to not approach him. There was a line forming around the coat hangers, which you thought was going to be the best way to casually start a conversation. You cut the line when you saw Peter hang up his coat, putting yours next to his and smiling at him. He smiled back when the two of you locked eyes.

"Hey" you said "Peter Parker, right?"

He looked a bit stunned by your question. First, he was starstruck because the prettiest girl he had ever seen came out of nowhere and greeted him and secondly, she knew his name. And that was not supposed to be like this at all. His mind was rushing and calculating how it were possible. Were you a supervillain from an alternate reality trying to expose him? Or did the spell just not work on you? All of the scenarios seemed very bad for him.

The way he just sat there and said nothing was making you extremely nervous. It did feel like a terrible idea now that you had done it.

"We used to take Spanish together in high school." you added, your voice shaking slightly from the anxiety. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm really sorr-"

"Wait Spanish?" he finally said, his theories crumbling down when he realized what was actually going on. You were no supervillain, just an old classmate. Yet, he was sure he would have remembered you.

"I really don't remember..." he continued, feeling his cheek heat up.

"Oh that's fine, we never really... spoke? Like at all, I sat all the way in the back and no one could make me say a word."

He laughed softly at your words.

"Wanna discuss this over coffee? If you don't have any other classes?"

"I'm free, so yeah, we could grab a coffee"

20 minutes later the two of you were laughing over how ridiculous you looked in the yearbook. Peter was holding your phone and looking at the photo in which you still had braces on, your eyebrows were so badly drawn on because you thought shaping them with a razor the night before was a good idea. It was not, you shaved off so much from one of them you had to fill it in. And since it was your first ever filling eyebrows in, it was very, very bad. Also, your hair looked like it was made out of dark matter, because you recently had it dyed black, straightened it and accidentally put a bit too much hair oil on it. You were definitely not having a good time back then, but it was a small price to pay to hear Peter laugh so hard. A 4-month accutane treatment to acne and taking your braces off could really make a person change enough. It was a glow up and Peter could really see it now.

"Okay now that I've seen that, I actually do remember you! You're the girl that got hit in the head with a basketball while tying her shoes on the bench during gym! Somehow you fell back and got under the benches so I had to pull you out."

"Oh no" you whined, hiding your face in your hands to hide how hard you were blushing. And he was right, that really did happen once, and it was that moment that actually started your little crush on him. You were probably 14 when it happened. You fell under the bleachers and felt so embarrassed that you froze on the spot, feeling like crying. People came running towards you, Peter beating them to it, and pulled you out by the hand. He dusted your shirt off and asked if you were alright. To your teenage mind he came in like a knight in shining armor, and it made you fall for him, very hard.

''Come on, it wasn't that bad!" he said between laughs, giving your phone back.

"It was bad, like really bad. How can your only memory of me be my worst moment in high school?''

"If that's your worst moment, you were doing good."

You took a sip from your coffee, your finger tracing the rim of the paper cup once you placed it down on the table. You really were regretting not talking to him in school, he seemed like such a nice person, you would have been good friends.

"Why did you decide to go to ESU? I thought you had plans to go to MIT with your friends."

"Oh, I didn't get in."

"Yeah, totally sounds believable, Peter Parker, the Stark intern, highest SAT score in our grade, didn't get into MIT" you said sarcastically, shaking your head at him.

He sighed, looking down at his hands. His leg started bouncing under the table and he suddenly seemed tense. Now it really did feel believable, based on his reaction.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay, honestly I was so sure I would get in too, but I don't think I ended up at a bad place"

"Obviously you didn't, I chose ESU, which makes it the best place ever. And now that I know you're here too, I get double confirmation for that."

He laughed softly at your words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later you were actually glad to have to work in pairs in the lab because Peter asked you to be his partner.

You arrived just before the class started, sitting down at the table and putting your protective goggles on.

"Sorry" you said as you sat down next to him, taking the empty flask that was sitting in front of him and immediately starting to mix the things you managed to read on the board.

Peter smiled at you as he watched you, doing his own thing which you didn't pay too much attention to.

"Roommate problems again?" he asked.

Being lab partners meant the two of you had to talk regularly, which led to getting closer. You didn't know many people there besides him and your nightmare of a roommate.

"You have no idea." you sighed, dropping a few droplets into a test tube. The mixture inside started smoking up slightly, you swirled it around until it stopped, passing it to him so he could heat it up.

"What did she do this time?"

"Locked me in and took both of the keys on her way out. I had to call her to come back and unlock, she was pissed."

"Still don't get how someone can be so rude to you for no reason."

"I don't think she hates me really, she hates the idea of me. Not every 3rd year student is keen on the idea of babysitting a freshmen, I totally get that."

Peter wrote something down in his notebook after the mixture started bubbling up. You looked at it, brows furrowing.

"What's the temperature?"

"140 F"

"Peter that's not supposed to happen" you said worried

"Actually it is, you didn't have the time to read the board and put only half"

"Oh-"

He removed the test tube, letting it cool down.

"It's okay, we'll just multiply it by two."

"Sometimes I wonder what I would do if you weren't here."

"Probably blow up the place."

You rolled your eyes at him before the both of you laughed, continuing your work. You tried being more concentrated now, and for the most part it was working out. Until Peter would roll up his sleeves and expose his forearms. Or when he would take the goggles off to fix his hair. You tried staring as discreetly as possible, but he probably did notice it every time.

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That same night was your first ever frat party. You weren't really a fan of parties, the high school ones you went to were boring but you were hoping that college ones were going to live up to the hype everyone was giving them. Plus, you were trying to make amends with your roommate, and she wanted some alone time with her boyfriend back at your place. The idea of frat boys really turned you off, you had seen more than enough of them in class and around campus.

The music was booming through the speakers as you entered the house, people were everywhere. You could barely squish through the crowd, it was barely 10 pm and people were already wasted. You really wanted to let loose that night too, so you made it over to the bar and took whatever drink was handed to you first. It was vodka. Tasted bitter and burned down your throat and stomach as you drank it. The stress from university and the complicated relationship with Ruth, your roommate, were really starting to get you. Add your unresolved feelings for Peter to the mix and you really do have a strong enough pressure to make you explode like a time bomb. So, you wanted to take some pressure off by drinking and dancing. No one knew you here anyway so it was relatively easy to just do whatever you wanted.

Five shots of vodka were already in your system by the first hour. The dance floor was yours to take. A red plastic cup in your hand while you were swaying to the rhythm of the song playing, boys were coming from left and right to dance together. And you did dance with them, probably even made out with one or two as well. It continued for what felt like forever, until 2 am rolled around and you started feeling tired and wasted. And the alcohol in your blood was about to hit you in the worst way possible and make you overthink everything that was going on around you. At that point you were sat on a couch in the trashed living room and some dude was talking to you. His hand was on your knee. You were too preoccupied by your own thoughts to even listen to whatever he had to say.

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Peter hid behind his apartment building on campus, looking around to make sure no one would see him as he took off the spider-man costume. Ever since he went back to no one knowing his identity, he had to sneak around. He couldn't risk any of his roommates seeing him accidentally so he took the costume off outside after patrol, shoved it in his backpack and walked in. If anyone was ever awake and asked where he was, he would say either the library or doing lab work with you. He really did use you as an excuse a lot to his roommates, which gave them all kinds of wrong ideas. He didn't share a bedroom with anyone, which made his life so much easier, but there was a whole other bedroom with two boys in it in his apartment.

No one was awake when he walked in, throwing his bag on the floor next to his bed. He felt shattered. The whole studying and spider-man business was draining his batteries like never before. Peter lay down on the bed, too tired to even get out of his jeans. He was rapidly drifting into sleep when his phone started ringing. He groaned in annoyance, looking at the screen only to see it were from you. Peter quickly picked it up, any feeling of tiredness leaving his body when he heard you crying on the other side of the phone.

"Hey, hey, what happened? Are you hurt? Where are you?" he asked, panicked.

"Ruth locked me out again." you cried on the phone "She left her key in, she was with her boyfriend and they were probably doing the deed and locked themselves and fell asleep."

You babbled really fast, he was trying to understand what you were saying but it was muffled by soft sobs. And you didn't sound sober either.

"Peter, you fix all of my lab mistakes, please fix this."

He wasn’t sure what to do, especially since he didn’t know where you lived exactly. There weren’t many opinions in this situation, he could either find you and kick the door down so you could get in your place or he could take you in his room and let you sleep there.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“In front of my dorm?”

“I don’t know where that is, genius”

You continued sobbing at his words, which made him feel even worse. You were very vulnerable and probably scared and he was acting poorly.

“Okay, okay, sorry, I didn't mean that. Tell me where your dorm is and I’ll come fix it, okay?”

“It’s the one next to the library”

He hopped out of his bed, rushing towards the building.

When he got there he saw you sitting on the steps, looking down at your feet.

"Hey" he said, standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets as he watched you slowly look up to him. Your eyes were red from all the crying and your cheeks were still wet from the tears. Peter sat down next to you with a sigh, the second he did that he could tell you had been drinking. The smell of vodka and cigarettes were all over your clothes.

"Hi" you muttered back after a while, not really sure what to say or do at this point.

"So what happened?" he whispered to you, bumping his shoulder into yours

"I got locked out, again" you whispered back, looking at him. He was smiling, a warm, comforting smile that made you feel so incredibly guilty that you called him.

It made you realize what time it actually was, and that you probably woke him up. It was the middle of the night, and you woke up the closest thing you had to a friend here to help you. You ruined his sleep so he could save you from something you could have probably figured out on your own if you weren’t drunk.

"Come on" he said, getting up and reaching out his hand to help you up as well. ''Let's get you out of here"

You took his hand, the tears were welling up in your eyes again as you looked at him. He seemed so tired, yet he came rushing to your rescue.

He walked in his room, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Wow you have a double bed??" you said as you looked around his room.

"Oh, yeah" he said, blushing when he saw the state of it. He didn't really think about making the bed before he left and the bedding looked like scrambled eggs with all the pillows and blankets everywhere. Peter didn’t want to look messing in front of you but it was too late for that.

"Lucky duck"

Peter was kind enough to take out some clothes for you to sleep in while you showered. It was a spare pair of pajama pants and an old star wars t-shirt. He looked away while you got dressed and helped you into bed after that.

"I can't thank you enough for this."

"Oh, you can, you can do my calculus homework."

The both of you laughed after that. He grabbed a pillow and a blanket, with the intention of sleeping on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep?"

"Not here?"

"Well, no-.... I-.... Don't want to invade...."

"I feel bad enough about it as it is, please come sleep in your bed, it's big enough" you whined.

Peter stood at the door. He really didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, or crush you while he slept but at that point he was so shattered that the bed seemed like the best thing that could happen to him. You got up and pulled him towards the bed, grabbing the pillow and blanket with your other hand and throwing them on.

Peter was asleep the second his head hit the pillow, and you followed a minute or two later. It didn't feel as weird to sleep in the same bed as the two of you had anticipated. Maybe the alcohol helped. You were pretty sure that it was, in fact, the alcohol that made you call him, the one that insisted on sharing the bed as well. Sober you would probably be a flustered mess just from the thought of being in Peter's bedroom alone.

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The second Ruth knew you had somewhere to sleep over, she took advantage of it. It was happening so often that you basically had a schedule when you would sleep over at Peter's. He didn't mind one bit because it was a reason to spend time with you. Plus, you did all your work for classes together, even in classes you or him weren't taking. So by the middle of the semester, you two were practically platonically dating.

And it made you feel the worst and the best type of ways at the same time. You absolutely loved spending time with him and your feelings were only getting deeper and deeper with each day. Somehow, you still felt like you were taking away the college experience from him. He declined every party opportunity his roommates suggested, he rarely spoke to other girls and if he went out with friends from other classes, he would always make you tag along with them. Everyone thought that if you were not dating, then you were definitely hooking up, no matter how many times you denied it. Truth being told, it was actually kind of weird that you weren't doing either of those. And it got even weirder when someone else started expressing an interest in Peter.

Surprisingly enough, even to yourself, you actually liked going to parties. The alcohol helped you loosen up and talk and since Peter actually had other friends, now you knew some people here and there. You would always find someone to chat with at a party and you learned that socializing wasn't at all as scary as it seemed before.

Tonight you found yourself at a random party in some basement of the dorm on the other side of campus. You knew that you'd be home late so the arrangements of staying over at Peter's were already made. As you were speaking to someone from your beginner-friendly biology class, a girl approached you. She was tall, way taller than you, had long dark hair and an amazing body. She grabbed your arm and said your name in a questioning tone. You nodded slightly taken aback from the interaction.

"Can I borrow you for a second?" she asked, turning to the other person in an apologetic smile.

"Sure."

She pulled you a bit away, still holding your arm right above the elbow. The whole thing was making you tense for some reason.

"I'm sorry that I asked like this." she said, letting your arm go. "Actually, we've met before, I take calculus with Peter Parker, he brought you over at one of our group study sessions."

"Oh. Right." you did remember her now, but she looked slightly different with heavy makeup on. She definitely looked like one of the it girls on campus and you got the impression that she actually was.

"So I wanted to ask if you and Peter were a thing?"

Once again you were stunned by a question from her. You looked around for some reason, she was making you feel uneasy.

"Um, no, we're not."

"Great!" she said with a bright smile. "Do you think he'd be into me? He has this nerdy sex appeal, I actually really want to get with him."

You were blinking in disbelief towards her. This whole thing was really not making you feel well about your situation. She was gorgeous and she wanted to fuck your crush, it was going to end badly for you. You felt something like a ball in your throat that you knew even the gin couldn't wash down.

"Well, good luck with that." you said, patted her shoulder and walked away before you started crying in front of her.

The whole situation really put you in a bad mood. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, but it managed to burst the bubble you were so peacefully living in. It got you wondering if Peter had his eyes on someone, if he was sleeping around with different girls, if he was going on dates. You kept imagining it, and drinking to try to stop, but nothing seemed to help. You couldn't spend every waking second with him to know, plus he never talked about girls with you. You didn't know who he was texting, or if he were going out with someone and not telling you. You were sure he wasn't because no girlfriend would ever feel okay with some random girl sleeping over as much as you did. Then again, he could be hooking up with someone, you were only sleeping over two or three times a week.

You were so preoccupied by your worries that you almost didn't pick up your phone when Peter called. He said he finished whatever work he had to do and was going to come to the party and pick you up. It made you even more anxious.

He walked through the door 15 minutes after the phone call. The whole thing was a sensory overload for him, the music was way too loud, the colors were too flashy, people were everywhere. He was constantly on edge because people were walking a little too close and his reflexes were being triggered. He hated parties. He hated the idea of you liking them even more. With the amount of time the two of you were spending together in the last few months, he grew very attached, he even developed a little crush of his own, but he was too terrified to admit that. Given his background and his secret, he wasn't too sure he wanted to put you through what MJ had gone through. He felt like it would be unfair to lie to you at the same time, it's not something you could hide from the person you're dating.

People greeted him here and there, giving him brofists and handshakes. Peter really felt like a real frat boy, but he hated the experience. He froze in his tracks when he saw a girl that looked just like you making out with some dude. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his chest tightened and it felt like someone set his lungs on fire. You were wearing black skinny jeans and a black top, hair was tied in a bun and your tongue was in someone's mouth. Was that why you sounded so weird on the phone? Was that why you waited so long to pick up? Peter was too stunned to even move so he just stood there in shock for a few seconds. He felt a hand on his shoulder, which made him snap out of it, turning his head. He met your eyes when he looked down, giving you a confused look. His head turned back to the other you that was still exchanging saliva with a guy, then back to the actual you. He finally started breathing again. Your outfit was actually nothing like the girl's, you had a long-sleeved light blue dress on that had a v-cut. It made you look really desirable and the way the color mixed so well with the lighting in the room, you looked like you walked straight out of Peter's dreams. He was practically trying to take pictures of you with his eyes for later.

"What?" you asked as you noticed his stare, looking at your dress for accidental spills or any signs of why he was looking at you like that.

"Nothing, actually." he said, taking the cup you were holding and finishing whatever was in it. He didn't really care what was in, alcohol had little to no effect on him but he liked to pretend.

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You expected to go home shortly after Peter's arrival, but things didn't play out that way. The girl that talked to you about him earlier tonight saw the two of you and came over to chat. After 15 minutes of them talking and you awkwardly standing there, holding an empty cup in your hand, you were feeling more annoyed than ever. And pretty drunk too. You were already in a bad mood because of her, and when Peter suggested walking her to her dorm you just felt like crying. Your feet were killing you because of the heels you were wearing and you made sure to inform him but he seemed to have forgotten about that.

And now, all three of you were walking around campus to get her safely to her room. You were giving them a side eye the whole time while she tried to scoot over closer to him. And when she said she was cold she could offer his flannel, you rolled your eyes so hard you got scared they'd get stuck and not come back. Unfortunately, they did come back and you had to witness him putting his shirt over her shoulders. Once at her dorm, she even had the audacity to kiss his cheek before walking in. It made him blush, and you, you were really about to throw up at that point. It felt like a very weird game of chess, and she had checked you in it.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked when he saw how you looked. Gorgeous, he thought, but kind of pale and like you would collapse any second.

"No" you said, your eyes meeting his. You could see the lipstick stain on his skin from the other girl and now you really did feel like throwing up. You were only 3 steps away from him and he made them so fast you felt like he teleported.

"No, no, Peter, step away" you told him, your hand covering your mouth while you rushed to the nearest trash can and actually threw up. He rushed after you, holding your hair as you did.

"You didn't look THAT drunk." he said, patting your back while you were coughing.

"This is so embarrassing" you cried softly, as if this night wasn't humiliating enough.

"There, there, I hope you got it all out because I am not changing my sheets for the second time today."

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"I'm thinking about switching my field of studies." you said, looking at Peter.

He took his glasses, looking at you in disbelief. He was sat at his desk, trying to solve a math problem while you were lying on his bed, playing on your phone.

"Chemistry doesn't do it for you anymore?" he asked mockingly.

"No, I just hate spending so much time with you." you replied in the same tone, sticking your tongue out at him.

It had been a week since the whole party thing. You didn't throw up at his place, but you did have the worst hangover of your life. Peter helped you through it, but didn't pass up an opportunity to make fun of you.

"Then why are you here? I'm sure there's a party somewhere on campus."

"Shut upppp" you groaned, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it mid air and put it on the back of his chair before turning to finish his work.

It felt like it was too early to sleep but you didn't have anything better to do since Peter was so busy with math. You turned on your side, facing the wall, since you liked sleeping on the side next to the wall, and closed your eyes. You didn't know how long it had been but you were definitely asleep when you got woken up by a knock on the door. You looked up with confusion, half asleep when Peter gave you an apologetic smile and got up from his chair to check who it was.

He assumed it was one of his roommates that either lost or forgot his key, but he was surprised to open the door to his calculous classmate.

"Hey, Pete." She said "May I come in?"

"Sure-" he said, letting her in

The girl walked over to the couch and sat down.

"Remember last week when you gave me this shirt?"

"I do." he said, only now noticing what she was wearing. It was his flannel, with a belt around her waist.

"Well, I came to return it." she said, unbuttoning it and taking it off. She got up, only in her underwear and walked towards him, handing him the shirt.

Peter was so flustered that he had to stare at his feet the whole time.

"I think you got the wrong idea here-" he started, squeezing the flannel in his hand.

"About what?" she asked, squatting down in front of him so he could see her, and, well, you know...

Just as he was about to move, the door of his bedroom flew open. You stood there, wearing his shirt as your pajamas, double taking on what you were seeing. You didn't think there would be anything serious happening, but the chatter was disturbing your sleeping attempts and you wanted to check what was going on. But now you were just frozen in your spot, staring at a half-naked girl that was on her knees in front of Peter. Both of their heads turned towards you, staring in the same amount of disbelief. It felt like your worst nightmares had turned into reality. Neither of you knew what to do or what to say and you just stood there in silence, the tension so heavy it could suffocate someone.

"It's not what it looks like." Peter managed to say, holding eye contact with you.

''I'm so sorry, I didn't know-'' she started, getting up from the floor.

"I think I'll pretend I dreamt that and go back to sleep." you said, closing the door before anyone could do or say anything else.

"Peter, I didn't know, she told me you two weren't a thing last week."

He handed her the shirt, not even bothering to look at her.

"We're not. You can keep this, go home."

She walked to the door, stopping at it to look at his back.

"I'm really sorry, if I can do anything, tell me."

"Goodnight."

He knocked gently on the door before walking in. He saw you tucked in the bed, hugging one of the pillows. You weren't really sure what to feel right now and you were trying your best not to cry. It wasn't like the things between you had changed and you had no right to be upset over his personal affairs. Peter sat on the bed next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I know you're not sleeping, can we talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

"What happened back there."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

You sat up, still hugging the pillow. You pressed the back against the wall, looking directly into his eyes.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you want me to get the wrong idea? Whatever that is supposed to mean."

He looked at his lap, unsure of what to say next.

"Because I'm not that kind of guy."

"Peter, it's none of my business what you do for fun."

"For fun? You think I do this for fun?"

"You're not doing math for fun, that's for sure."

"Are you always a bitch or is it a defense mechanism?"

"You were the one who wanted me to ''not get the wrong idea'' and suddenly I turned into a bitch?"

"Okay, I overstepped on that one. Nothing happened there, I haven't talked to her or seen her since we left the party together and you threw up."

"Okay, for some reason I believe that, but why should it be concerning me?"

"Stop pretending."

"Excuse me?"

He didn't say anything after that, just pulled your arm so you could get closer to him and kissed you. It happened so fast you couldn't really process it. Once the shock was over, you kissed him back. You probably looked like a teen movie kissing scene, you on your knees and arms while he was sitting, one arm for support and the other one cupping your face as you kissed.

"I should have done this way sooner." he said after you parted.

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toinfinitywinning · 2 months

Text

What you see & hear- or even if you can. Just a cover.

Open it? There’s no tellin’ the worm. But you bought the ticket. It’s your Day 1.

They’re gonna try to break you.

Yk every Day I wake up. And I’m scared of it. Don’t want to. And not b/c im warm in my bed snuggling w/ my feather duvet and rain, with the weight of a horse on my legs play pretending he’s a 3 lb Show shhnowzaa but b/c I’ve already, already lived it. And having been in a constant State of fight or flight, normal or abnormal, sometimes u can’t tell —I still feel bad. W/e differentiation you had to separate the two both ended up at the North Pole but you’ve at least got Santa.

So this means I’m confused all Day but I still want some of Michael’s Secret Stuff Gatorade (haterade) from “welcome to the space jam—alright.” 🎵. To get me through. A safe energy drink. And your body doesn’t ☊ anymore so the more you talk to yourself the saner. It’s just I’ve never had to fake I’m physically okay to be present so much. Physical sickness affects ur mind Health and if you already struggle w/ that my condolences b/c your leg hurts too.

It’s a nightmare never 1-upping to a dream of being without. Then some days it’s will hear a song or remember a Good time or just Start crying-faucet not included. No acute-reason onset. (We gotta find another word for trigger no joke). I only subconsciously wonder will today be better…Will I get better? And I don’t know why I continue to continue being somewhere inbtw positive and negative. All the sudden my mind is taxed and so are your paychecks and I’ve been up for 15 minutes not even thinking I was thinking b/c Truth is, when something becomes your reality for such a Long time, everything just runs together. You’re afraid to feel anything yet know if you don’t it’s not just your body ready to atrophy. Not Good. And it’s a sneaky lil’ mf.

I can’t Imagine the omnipresent (best word for constant I got) Pain people feel having been with Illness their whole lives. How differently their world is shaped. Pain, prolonged cynicism, Illness prolonged, disability prolonged, w/e u used to think about things is gone unless you’re born one of these ways. Now to be clear I was born this Way but not THIS Way don’t get it twisted. Some days I wonder what it would be like to swap around. W/e it is—This presence does not belong to God— but maybe its mere existence really does b/c we won’t have anyone to thank if things get better? And there’s no joy in the things we’ve hoped for and overcome? And everything always has an End result of some kind…Right? If that’s my endgame I can only look at some things very matter of fact-ly. But. Here we are. Pending. Loading. Accept All Cookies. Your Health for potential healing is At the mercy of literally a button click away from quality or lifesaving or changing Medicine or therapy. CAN YOU AFFORD TO STAY ALIVE? Be fired? Bankrupt-ed? Evicted? No college, no trade School, but you work ur butt off to provide but you’re still paid $7.25/hr as I was as head intramural supervisor at Georgetown College. 15 years ago. Not just that, exist, like eating, clothes to wear, some sort of roof. So you’re choosing between crappy and crappier. Literally no difference. How in the is someone even going to try to stay healthy?!

Thankfully I don’t have to worry as much about the material, which, its Stress alone induces more trauma and Anxiety, but I’d bet how we feel physically isn’t too different. All the sudden again in the subconscious where I am all the time I’m figuring and not truly present you really think existentially like how in not God’s name clearly did I get here? I fixed everything. But Life isn’t played by a claw that has never won anybody a teddy bear. I wouldn’t pin karma to me in itself but it sure makes you think.

None of this is about to make sense but it’s where my mind took me.

Think about what was happening in your Life before things changed. Before literally waking up one Morning and knowing that very second things had to change or I was headed toward death a lot faster than I thought until that God moment. I don’t have many of them that are that dramatic but nothing was clearer to me in that moment. And then that Damn bat and conspiracy crap of government population control. If anthrax was sprinkled in Amazon boxes we’d be extinct. But Pretty sure we know how to get rid of people without breaking a beaker or test tube and then turning on a fan just gifting particles. And Unraveling ALL of the many ways of healing I’d finally lived into. I was so close. To every Fk up id invited. And so asking why anymore seems vacant. Echoing. And my ears hurt. ATP I’m More so saying well, I’m not sure that strategy is going to work anymore. Where’s the ღ in Health. It’s lost it. How much are you worth? No, like write down a monetary number on a piece of paper, fold it and slide it across the desk. Insurance companies be like: I see your offer and I’ll raise your offer: have you tried dying yet? B/c you could save a lot of money that way. The money it will take to bury you might even be more deadly.

So The most defeating part is beginning the Day as it ends. When I think about that it’s just like how did I get here? I’m still stubborn about it but maybe regardless of w/e someone accomplishes there’s the reality you’re still living in an imperfect world where you can only control so many things. Even if u gain that control back all those traps R still available. So you can Imagine my surprise when there’s not enough OCD to Go around to control THIS. regardless of what we can have control over, do that, b/c the smaller victories become magnified and walking to the kitchen to take your Meds that may or may not be helping is like an 8-ball w/ only 8 options. Eenie meenie miney. Mo.

I don’t set out to cry or tear up in the videos I share. I’ve always been a cryer. I’ve been told I feel things more intensely so it hits different, does different. The direct quote will remain anonymous but the sentimental pack rat in me wrote it down ASAP. Like, a handwritten letter. You took TIME for me. The quote—It was several years ago and I almost can’t stand it b/c it’s me in whatever kind of Shell is available at the time.

[“people perceive me as an individual who has the kindest of all hearts, but who struggles with the realities of life given that kindness…Like how the tenderhearted feel the pains of the earth more intensely.”]

It’s so true. But if I can’t be real what Good’s that gonna do? For me it further affirms what I already am living. In Edgar’s scary A** pit or with the company of not one canary in the coal mine.

C’ya in the AM. 🫡

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vbee-miya · 1 year

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helloo!!! could i get a matchup for bnha?? :0 (this is the first time im requesting something sorry if i say anything wrong msfnsnnd) im 18 (i turned 18 only some days ago lol), i use he/they pronouns (im a trans boy:]) and im gay mdmfms im an isfp and a hufflepuff if that matters!!! im v introverted and shy at first and im not someone who likes to go out because i have trouble with loud noises n too much people, but whenever i go out im the kind of person who talks too much (when im w friends) and is a literal clown, although i still cant talk with people outside my circle so other people have to often speak up for me (esp when i want to buy stuff mssmfmsmdlmao), as for my traits, ig im kind of pessimist when it comes to myself? but super optimistic when it comes to others, im also v anxious, protective towards ppl i like and very, very blunt, because i speak without thinking,,, i also daydream a lot and get distracted even more, i have a lot of energy too but i just dont show it so thats that!! as for hobbies im a writer and an artist! (daydreaming helps a lot for some reason), i like playing videogames and that stuff, and i also love researching things such as bugs (i love them but if you put a bug Infront of me i'd cry) and human behavior:], ii also have a lisp so how i speak in every single Language sounds funny,, im basically what would happen if you combined a nerd, anxiety, a clown and too much coffee (i cant even drink coffee bc of my adhd tho since it makes me very sleepy) hehebw i hope that information is good!! sorry for rambling too much again aa

༺❀༻ matchup ༺❀༻

i don't see why not, here ya go.

hop in on the adventures of tintin.

he doesn’t mind going out to places that are quiet, or places that have little to no interaction with people. so probably like hanging around his dormitory or if given the chance when the school is on break he’d invite you to his place or if you ever offer, then you guys could hang around at your place.

mirio to me is the type of guy who can easily warm up to people and usually knows what to say and do. i mean after all, what do you expect from someone in the big three? so even hanging out that random silence of awkwardness would cease to exist. the more you both start getting to know each other and start creating that good rapport he’d be able to talk about anything and everything. and let's say there’s a topic you love talking about that isn’t within his knowledge, then no worries he’d be more than willing to learn and listen about it.

when you guys are outside, potentially to go out eating and or to buy things, mirio is your man, your buddy. you bet he’d be the one doing all the talking. i mean you can’t really shut him up. anyways when you guys go out to buy stuff he’d actually buy anything you’d want and that’s a fact. he’s generous.

pessimism is natural, anyone can feel those doubts and it’s so easy seeing things negatively. especially about oneself. but as optimistic as mirio can be he’d understand where you’re coming from and rather than saying haphazardly things like “don’t think like that” “don’t say that'' he'd be more than willing to hear you out and encourage the hell out of you. because no one deserves to be thought about like that especially from us.

your bluntness in my headcanon is something that catches him off guard sometimes, though he’d appreciate the bluntness. he’s most definitely the type to accept critical criticism or just anything about him. in terms of self-improvement.

every time you have that burst of energy mirio would think that it’s cute. and sometimes if not most times would be highly fascinated with your daydreams and would actually give great writing ideas to write about as they’re not too complex and can be worked around rather quickly.

there’s a funny little headcanon i have where he doesn’t mean to put a bug at your face, he just thought the stick bug was really cool and knew to some degree you’d research about them potentially.

he’d wouldn’t even notice your lisp and would actually say that he doesn’t hear it. but till one day he really notices it and his world opened anew.

#matchup *.·:·.✧#bnha matchup #mha headcanons #mirio x reader #mirio imagine #mirio headcanons #mirio togata #my hero academia matchup

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crookedherringcolorclod · 1 year

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What does Akemi Think of The Sakamaki Brothers

Shu

•Shu was quite distant when they first met because he didn’t even know that she existed until she stepped foot in the manor. Not to mention the fact that Akemi has multiple resemblances to his late mother, Beatrix.

•When the pair slowly got closer, Akemi somehow became Shu’s lap pillow whenever there are no sacrificial brides from the church.

•Shuu tends to lay his head down on Akemi’s lap because she’s a bit warm for a vampire but still not warm enough to blend in as a human.

•She is not so fond of it, mostly because of Shu’s heavy weight on her legs.

“Shu, my legs feel numb...”

Shu smirked “Call me ‘Shu-onii-chan and I might consider”

“You suck”

“Mmmm.... and I swallow”

“Ugh...”

•Shu finds Akemi’s red cheeks hilarious, and he pinches them from time to time when he’s bored.

•Yet at the same time Akemi found out that she can benefit from this, no one would have the balls to approach her when her Shu is napping on her lap. It was like having a lazy guard dog.

•So, Akemi became more ok with this mutual bond. If she lets Shu sleep on her lap, he can drive a good number of guys away. It was a win-win situation, even if she must deal with Shu’s occasional jokes.

Reiji

•Akemi was quite scared of Reiji. From the day they first saw each other, this man kept looking at her as she came back from the dead. It got better with time but like… that was not a fun first impression.

•It was so bad to the point she doesn’t drink his tea out of fear that there might be a muscle relaxant or poison with no taste or smell.

•She keeps giving him the “bruh” look whenever he insisted that she drinks his obviously still hot tea while he’s still blowing into his cup. Jerk.

Reiji: My, I am being hospitable towards you, and you still don’t drink the tea. How undignified for a young lady like yourself. I’ll whip you into shape by teaching-

Akemi: 😒

•As of now, Reiji is always exasperated with Akemi’s attitude but also worried about her because she needs more blood than a usual vampire. You know, when she uses her blood manipulation, that can take a toll on Akemi if she’s not careful.

•She hurts the family budget and his sanity because he doesn’t intend on accidentally neglecting a new family member’s health but everyone else in the house has their expensive needs… the dilemma.

•Akemi insisted she was fine getting blood from other people, but Reiji insisted she need to eat something higher in quality.

•Reiji had to buy more A5 steaks because he knows that someone’s lethargic ass won’t share.

Ayato

•Ah yes, the tomato.

•Akemi thinks he’s the most normal among his brothers.

•She would listen to his antics and how Ayato calls himself the best, but she just nods without listening to him.

•I mean she tried, but it took 5 minutes for her to finally stop listening altogether.

•They don’t talk to each other much and Ayato would call her to make takoyaki. He also found Akemi’s powers cool and convenient.

•He asked a good number of dumb questions like using her powers to light the stove on or just demanding she reheats the takoyaki that he left in the fridge for safekeeping.

•Akemi just warms it by a bit, only to watch Ayato bite into the cold center of his refrigerated takoyaki. It’s fun to watch seeing Ayato’s smile turn into a frown and spit out his favorite food.

Kanato

•If you put Akemi and Kanato in a room all by themselves, nothing would happen.

•However, if you put dessert in the room… Akemi would just let Kanato eat it because she doesn’t want to deal with the tantrums he makes. Kanato would eat it and whisper to Teddy about how nice Akemi is.

•There have been times when Akemi would leave some sweets on his doorstep. Other than that, they don’t talk much.

•Akemi always buys two pastries whenever she found a famous bakery. One for her and one for Kanato.

Laito

•Avoids him like the plague, Akemi takes Amaya away from him too.

•Laito’s forehead literally screams pervert, of course Akemi would be wary of him. What did you expect??

•It doesn’t matter if he’s just talking to her, she doesn’t want to be in a room alone with him.

•Laito found out that picking on Akemi is so much fun. When he found out she can turn into a blushing mess, Laito wanted to tease her more.

•It was all fun and games until Akemi finally snapped and threatened to burn him or singe his eyebrows off.

•From that day on, Laito would just verbally tease her. Character development. Akemi makes sure he stays at least a foot away from her.

Subaru

•Akemi doesn’t mind spending quiet time with Subaru, and he feels the same as her. She would sometimes play the piano to fill the silence, and no one would say a word.

•Subaru would also help Akemi fend off guys at school, especially the ones that don’t take no for an answer. She’s grateful for having him as her companion of sorts.

•Akemi would also tend to his wounds when he gets into a fight. Their relationship is rather sweet. So sweet in fact that they need a separate post- 👀👀👀

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik oc #dl oc #akemi sakamaki #sakamaki akemi #shu sakamaki #sakamaki shu #reiji sakamaki #sakamaki reiji #ayato sakamaki #sakamaki ayato #kanato sakamaki #sakamaki kanato #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #subaru sakamaki #sakamaki subaru

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starry-skies-116 · 9 months

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Personality Facts +More- Samuel Lee Witwicky (AU):

Introverted Pisces INFJ, what more can I say?

Autism, hyperphantasia, alexithymia.

The type of person to drink tea in the morning, also the type of person to prefer picnics on a spring day when the weather hits JUST right-

Also, Samuel’s def the type of person to love white chocolate sm. It’s one of his safe foods. One of his other preferred safe foods are those sour lychee candies/gummies. He actually has a whole list, in fact: among them include mac n cheese, specific sandwiches he buys from the deli, cake, fried rice, mooncakes, pancakes, bread with sprinkles and butter, REALLY well-made hot chocolate, home-cooked hotpot, potstickers, ramen, boba, california rolls, etc. Basically anything that’s warm and comforting.

He does like to eat ice cream, though- but every time he, Mikaela and Heidi go to get some he literally orders the same flavor and toppings every time (god me too).

Stomps on crunchy leaves in autumn when he thinks nobody’s looking 😗

Has way too many house plants that his mother always lets die. He never figures out why they always seemingly revive and regain their vitality near his presence until later events.

Has two or three plushies, one of which he sleeps with (and then there’s Heidi with a whole ass army of them-)

Loves to stargaze at the night sky, daydreaming about the life beyond there and fantasizing/planning obsessively over how his interactions with them will go if he were the one to make first contact (don’t tell him any spoilers now shhshshshhssh-)

Uses lots of emoticons when texting, especially ones like ‘:)’ ‘:3’ ‘:D’ ‘:(‘ and ‘<3’

Perceived as a cat person because of how mellow, non-confrontational and demure he acts, actually loves all animals (drawn to dogs to put some energy in his life because mans fr mimics behaviors similar to a cat sometimes sssshhhhh ♥️)

Typos/spelling errors frustrate him immensely, though he does his best not to show it (it doesn’t work lmao)

Mikaela and Heidi are his next-door neighbors, as well as his friends since childhood: they met when they were all five. Their friendship began to develop slowly due to many other factors in their life, but as they grew older they began to have the opportunities to spend more time together. The events of them crossing their own fates with that of the Autobots only served to make them further inseparable and strengthen their bonds.

They literally evolve from average supportive friendship still blooming awkwardly to ‘THIS IS MY BEST BITCH. WE ARE ONE UNIT. WE RIDE OR DIE.'

Sam primarily holds the role of the ‘default brain cell holder’ in the group. In other words, he holds the brain cell that they all share.

He’s also the shortest in the friend group, even though he’s average height and the height difference is in literal centimeters to the point where it’s barely noticeable (he’s 5’3/160 cm, Mikaela is 5’6/167 cm, and Heidi is 5’4/162.6 cm)

Elusive, enigmatic, secretive and reserved. Has all the traits of a leader and is decisive, despite being rather cautious and always opting for a peaceful solution. Strives to be kinder and wiser every day, so he can finally understand and truly connect with others. Prefers to keep things to himself- always shrewd and observant around people. Exceptionally prodigious beyond his years, master strategist, scientist and leader. He’s used to learning from his mistakes and making the best of bad situations, so he often denies any kind of pain he’s in no matter how severe it is.

That, or he literally does not recognize his pain at all. It takes him at least three to five business days at minimum for him to figure out his feelings and needs if those said sensations prolong for an extended period of time. If intense emotions flare up and then vanish just a moment after, it’ll fly right underneath his identification radar.

He’s sometimes prone to dissociative episodes to escape situations that remind him of trauma. Even with the AllSpark’s/Primus’s memories, anything that remotely triggers the traumatic parts of them causes him to slip into either a meltdown or a dissociative episode because of the emotions he feels and associates with them. Even when the memories are not Samuel’s… they still mean so much to him for no reason at all.

He spent his elementary and middle school years being homeschooled, and then the first time he’s ever been enrolled in public school was his Freshman Year.

His most exceptional traits are his curiosity, his compassion, and the sheer amount of effort he puts into trying to understand and communicate with others purely out of his kindness and care for people.

Samuel is very patient- however, that patience is born out of passivity. His lack of experience in social situations with those other than his friends, as well as a period in that time of bullying and ostracization, made him afraid to stick up for himself and to state his boundaries. When he came out to his parents and asked to transition on his thirteenth birthday, he was genuinely so scared that he was about to pass out.

As a result of his lack of socializing, he has a somewhat poor grasp of social interaction. His limited emotional expression and composed, impartial demeanor comes off as a bit eccentric and distant. Due to this, he admits to needing to study human emotions and ‘regular’ human interaction more. (autistic mood)

Sam loves to make either mental or physical note of things in his head that he deems of interest. Often, surprisingly they are odd but useful details that he somehow finds a way to utilize to his advantage.

Detests conflict, and always tries to negotiate and help people via kindness and not throwing hands. Despite the love he has and gives, he doesn’t really believe that he can ever protect anyone- not in a way that makes a difference. At the end of the day, all he wants is for people to get along.

Very observant of his surroundings- too observant. He jokingly refers to it as ‘gathering intelligence’, which isn’t too far off. Sensory issues essentially force him to pay attention to each and every little detail- but Samuel always insists that it’s fine, because ‘he’s used to it’ (shit explanation my guy-)

His favorite color changes from week to week- oftentimes it’s a whole color palette instead of just one color.

His camera roll isn’t really what you’d expect from someone as quiet and reserved as him: it’s full of cursed images, memes, stimboards, selfies of important moments with his friends, pictures of school notes and his workplace environment, and pictures of his dog.

He comes from a relatively wealthy family, but from the part-time jobs that he takes, he saves up money to buy more books, as well as anything that captivates him/immediately takes his interest hostage upon first glance (like I’m not kidding, it’s legit on-sight)

Whenever he’s captivated or genuinely, truly interested or enamored with something, he reacts like a cat in response to seeing shiny things. His eyes widen and get brighter, and his pupils dilate. He does barely noticeable stims (such as fiddling with his bracelet or jade pendant), and he leans closer, shuffling his feet to approach closer and closer without even realizing it.

He loves finding interesting rocks/geodes on occasion, and secretly making DIY-at-home jewelry at his part-time mechanic job with them and the equipment at his workbench. To get away with it, he arrives early, before his shift begins. He then shares the product with those he makes (whenever he isn’t burnt out): it’s his love language, finding cool rocks and making them into ‘socially acceptable’ gifts because he fears rejection sm 💔

Literally a sci-fi nerd. Gushes over shit like Star Wars and Star Trek and all that: has written novels and drawn fan art before, and basically died inside when Mikaela and Heidi discovered his stash in the closet when he was ten (bullied for his interests because other people can be assholes sometimes). He thought they both would leave him and never want to associate with him again, turns out they spent the next hour squealing over their blorbos, writing up headcanons/theories, and finding makeshift tools to cosplay characters.

Can’t relax his mind to save his life, honestly. There’s always a bottomless pit in his mind of ‘you are not doing enough, do enough so you can relax’ but it’s never enough. Whenever he’s restless, he fiddles with his clay bead bracelet or his jade pendant so that he doesn’t let his mind wander or race to places he doesn’t want it to go.

Low self-esteem, beats himself up for every mishap and mistake- (RSD guys, it sucks major ass-). Still has the occasional intrusive thought that nobody actually loves him, they just tolerate/ ‘put up with’ him, due to his childhood of being somewhat sheltered and socially ostracized by literally every kid except for his only two friends.

Even when he deadass has not only two friends, but a federal agent, the lead researcher of N.E.S.T, and a WHOLE GIANT FCKIN ROBOT ALIEN ARMY ready to straight commit WAR-CRIMES FRESH FROM THE OVEN FOR HIM at a MOMENT’S notice-

Dances as a hobby, loves to sketch scenery. He visits the city’s theater every other Saturday to greet and play with the kids living around that area who also come to visit. Community and connection is important to him, since he was deprived of several life experiences in his childhood.

As smart as he is, he desires nothing more than to learn with hands-on experience. He’s spent the entirety of his sheltered upbringing learning from books.

Literal GOD in the kitchen. He spent his entire childhood being somewhat sheltered, so he’s developed quite the pantheon of hobbies that he revolves his day around in his pastime. Baking sweets for others particularly makes him happy.

Living in symbiosis with the AllSpark embedded in your literal heart is… an experience, to say the least. Nevertheless, he finds a way to navigate the experience with the help of his family and friends.

Has a brotherly relationship with Bumblebee and it’s seriously one of the most wholesome things ever. Like seriously, when he called Bumblebee “gēge” on accident (“older/big brother” in Chinese), Bro just… had to physically resist the urge to straight up curl into a fetal position on the floor and cry pure joy. Mans was straight grinning from pure elation from one side of his visor to the other once he used his translators and realized what it meant-

Literally, Autobots like Ratchet and Optimus and Ironhide, etc etc… they will literally take ONE look at this guy watching the beat of a butterfly’s wings or something and immediately go: “mmmm yes he is very much son-shaped”

He can’t really read tone or social cues, ESPECIALLY when it comes to being directed at him. Whenever Jazz is being sarcastic or makes jokes that he can’t recognize the tone of, Samuel becomes so genuinely confused. And speaking of that, one of his habits when he’s confused and/or straining his mind to try and understand something, is to tilt his head and cross his arms with a finger raised to his lips to tap against it. Once again, it’s one of his stims that pops up when he’s trying really hard to discern an answer, or a proper way to navigate an unfamiliar situation with little clues.

#transformers #transformers au #transformers reboot au #concept stuff #au facts #sam witwicky #samuel lee witwicky #he is an icon #we stan

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marmutgembil · 2 months

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How Soto Lamongan I had With the Price Point of Rp 5000 Changed Me In Unparalleled Way

Until the age of 13, I was a really picky eater and my diet only consist on nuggets or maybe carrots once in a while. I also especially hates toge. But here's the thing, a bowl of soto lamongan with price point RP 5000 and questionable hygiene, it changed my whole different perspectives on food and--you guess it-- friendship too.

For the sake of intro, I have been moving to different cities since these past 4 years, and in all those places, I always make sure to search and pin points a good soto ayam lamongan place, for whenever those days where a hearty warm with sour-y tasted soup are needed, I know where to go.

My lover, my friends, and everyone who are closes to me, knows my addiciton to soto ayam lamongan very well, and often they teased me on it, which I admit, very well deserved.

Not soto bogor, not coto makassar, not soto madura, but it has to be be Lamogan city style, a perfect cuisine that consist of yellow broth from the mix of koya and kunyit , add the right amount of bihun putih or adding it overboard won't hurt, also toge, ayam suwir, sprinkled with daun bawang and seledri to top it off. Oh, and don't forget the hard boiled egg, maybe salted egg when I feel fancy.

Back again, what's the connection of soto ayam Lamongan with pre-teen me who were a little picky eater shit?

Here is the full story. Aside from a picky eater, I was also such an awkward person, I don't know how to be fun, I don't know how to befriend anyone or how to be cool. I blame my mother and her strict, fun-hating parenting for that. I would end up still being that person, if my friend back then weren't 'adopting' me and introduced me how to enjoy my youth. Let's call her F

F accepted my weirdness without much questioning it nor complaining. We were so different. almost none of our hobbies matched. But she was really cool person, the kind that known so many friends, knows how to socialize, can talk to boys without work up a sweat. I was really mesmerized in her attitued and of course wanted to be included in every social setting.

Someday, she asked me to eat to soto ayam lamongan. At that time, remember, pretty much only nugget or chicken as food in my radar. But, the fear of missing out in me, didn't want to say no. So I said yes, and I followed her even though I wasn't really to sure how to eat that.

She led me to a small, warung tenda style with 0 hygine rating because it literally stands above ope sewer, though the seller close the sewer to act as floor, but still above open sewer.

Two bowl of soto that pre-mixed with rice served, and hesistantly, I sipping the broth, only eaten rice, bihun, the ayam suwir bits that aren't disgusting and left the toge alone. I remember she asked me: "Are you not gonna eat the toge?" which I answered, "No, I hate that."

Even though I didn't really enjoying that soto ayam lamongan, I keep say yes everytime she invited me to eat that. And unknowingly, my brains stops sabotaging me and let me enjoy another taste that wasn't chicken nuggets, and yes, finally, I have no problem eating toge anymore!

At that time, I wasn't pondering about this matter, but now at almost 24 years of age, I realized that was actually the turning point that shaped me in the future years to come.

So simple, the fact that I won't eat the toge that comes to Soto Ayam Lamongan, and the symbolize how I am really lucky, even though I was a really weird and awkward kid, I had people that willing to be my friends, accepting me, and thinking of me kindly enough to eat out together with them. Now, I am grateful that experience shaped me into the person I am now, the me that isn't so quick in saying no to food that I haven't taste before, even able to revisiting many food or drinks that in younger days put on the dislike list, but to my surprise, adult me developed the taste bud enough and end up enjoying it.

The taste of Soto Ayam Lamongan really put a deep mark in my javanese soul, and don't think anything would able to erase that out, no matter how many times bad and unsuitable soto ayam Lamongan I have eaten.

So understandbly and rightfully so I am really upset because nowadays, in this economy, soto ayam Lamongan are not the same anymore. Since 12 years since I tasted that perfect blend of soto ayam Lamongan I eaten with friends, I can't find the same quality almost anywhere.

I blame the economic impacting the portion of soto Lamongan being served. A full hard boiled egg in one portion of soto is rarity, I got half at best but more often a pathetic 1/8 egg slice found floating, and even though that toge is important part, that ingredient also often found missing in majority of soto I had. For the last complain, many seller also really being stingy by giving such a small portion of bihun that barely fulfilling enough or can't even be picked up with forks anymore, I had to scoop the bits of bihun using my spoon.

And that wrapping up my story of why soto ayam Lamongan is important part of my soul, and I wish our society and economy is well enough to be able serve a portion with full size boiled egg.

If anyone reading this, leave me a sign!

Yours truly, from Denpasar Barat, Bali.

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emyluwinter · 2 years

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Small thoughts.

Hello, my dear. How are you?In my country, November 4 is a few extra days off, and it means that I can finally take a break from work. Oh, I'm so tired..

but I want to write something big and very good, but my strength is so little that I barely have enough for small household chores.

I hope you're doing well. Don't forget to eat well and drink water! If you need to drink medicines, do not forget about them!

So..... little thoughts or ideas about Prefect. Purely my inventions.

All first-year, more accurately moms know Yuu. This often happened by accident, but for the most part the boys talked about their lives and mentioned the non-magical Prefect who had become a part of their lives.

Mrs. Spade was one of the first to meet them because she often calls on the phone with her beloved son.

Ace, Grimm and Yuu are used to always shouting "Hello Mrs. Spade!!" in the background. when Deuce answers her call.

Her heart melted when Deuce was on a sleepover in Onboro and Yuu brought tea for him to warm up. They, along with Ace and Grimm, were preparing for one of the alchemy tests.

She is reassured that Deuce is trying his best and he is surrounded by such diligent and attentive people. In particular, Mrs. Spade noticed how the Prefect finds solutions in various disputes. And is essentially the "Senior" for Ace and Deuce.

In addition, becoming a Prefect on the first day of school definitely deserves attention and respect.

Her beloved son has grown into a good young man.

Ace's mom doesn't call so often, but for the most part his older brother communicates with him.

A few awkward jokes from Brother Ace - "Are

this red-haired scoundrel in love with the Prefect ~?'

Poor Ace can't look at the Prefect for the next three hours.

Deuce and Yuu will never know about this question.

Ace's older brother, though he does not speak out loud, is glad that he has an "Anchor" in the form of a Prefect who keeps them from all the problems that Ace can create.

Something like a more material kind of "conscience".

Once he persuaded Ace to put the call on speakerphone and there was a special message for Yuu.

"My little brother can be a pain in the ass. But he's a good guy, and I see how you, the Prefect of Onboro, see through all the hearts and literally hold them in your palms. Take good care of him, okay?~"

Ace was so embarrassed that he couldn't say a word to Yuu for at least another hour.

Mrs. Howl.

She was very happy to find out that her "eldest son is a lone wolf with a high sense of justice" made friends.

No matter how much Jack denies it.

When she found out that Yuu didn't have warm clothes. (Jack mentioned that they got their uniforms from former students. And the fact that Crowley doesn't really care about Yuu and Grimm. For the most part, it was done by ghosts. )

Without further ado, she sent old winter clothes that were no longer worn at home.

Yuu were shocked to see at least 6 boxes of warm clothes for autumn and winter, of different sizes, early in the morning on a weekend.

Mrs. Howl very delicately and cautiously hinted to Jack that it was good to take an example from Ruggie and Leona. But it would also be great if Jack talked more with Yuu. Thus, different points of view and different thinking can be useful for Jack.

In addition, her subtle instinct told her that in this way Jack would gain something important for himself. "Flock", even if it is small.

Mrs. Felmer.

A charming woman who loves Epel very much. And during the VDC camp, the boys often called their families.

She was very surprised that a non-magical person became a Prefect and can manage an entire building alone!

Her heart melts when Epel starts chirping like a bird about all the affairs and events that happened during the day.

In her opinion, Yuu are very thin, so now Yuu gets one box with different varieties of apples every few months.

She saw how Yuu helps Epel "accept himself" and how subtly and carefully they support her beloved son.

She was worried that Epel had ended up in the wrong dorm that he had dreamed of so much. But now she sees that Epel is surrounded by very good people.

Grandma Epel is very persuading her grandson to bring his friends to some holiday or vacation. ~

Mrs. Zigvolnt.

She was already used to long stories about the "Great Young Master". But even though she is busy, she tries to call her cute little "croc" more often.

She has a condition that first Sebek talks about himself, his day and well-being, events that were interesting. And then about everything else. By the rest, we mean at least a forty-minute presentation about Malleus.

She couldn't help but joke when first heard about Yuu.

Is her cute boy following in her footsteps?~

Sebek was so confused and confused that his voice began to break badly and he could not connect two words.

Yuu wondered why Sebek suddenly avoided them for two hours after that call. ...

Lilia found out about this conversation and couldn't stop laughing for 15 minutes.

When she found out that this "brave little man" was not afraid of the Dragon himself, she had to call Lilia and find out if they were all right.

+ Bonus !!

You know, I thought that the ghosts from the NRC could be the unspoken "guardians" for Yuu.

Because there are three ghosts living in Onboro who CLEARLY care about Grimm and Yuu.

To Yuu arranged a separate room for them. Where they can gather with other ghosts, play board games, listen to music on an old receiver, or otherwise spend their leisure and recreation.

All three ghosts burst into tears from this care and kindness.

Now ghosts FROM ALL OVER THE COLLEGE are coming to Onboro. But Yuu doesn't mind at all.

As long as they don't break the rule of not scaring them and Grimm and don't break things in the dorm, and let them sleep peacefully at night.

Some ghosts bring "gifts" or souvenirs for Yuu and Grimm. Sometimes these are cute trinkets, products, or strange things from nowhere.

Yuu had to sell a few things to Mr. Sam because they were cursed.

Azul almost choked on his own ink when he saw Yuu's antique charm bracelet that cost like the whole island. The bracelet was supposed to "ward off" dark and forbidden magic from the wearer.

Vil was the quickest to notice Yuu's vintage grooming kits.

He will never say, but he brutally wants this elegant beautiful case for a cosmetic bag. BUT THEY ARE NOT EVEN MADE TO ORDER BECAUSE THE DRAWING WAS DESTROYED!!

Where did this thing come from the Prefect?!?

Floyd was very interested to take a closer look at a multifunctional antique knife of no less age than some respected Merfolk.

Scissors?A bottle opener? A small knife?? A Small Magnifying Glass?!?A nail sharpener?A phillips screwdriver?? And all this in one subject???

There have never been such things where he comes from!

Now he and Jade are looking for the same one.

When Idia saw a small board game that is older than Trein. Idia literally screamed and scared everyone.

That day, Yuu hosted a game night with Idia and Ortho.

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snackhobi · 3 years

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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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lath-ara-ara · 3 years

Text

Mga ka-tropa {Childe,Tohma + Scaramouche}

Synopsis: What your everyday life looks like with your Barkada (Squad)

- Head canon, Fluff, School AU, Based off of my experience I guess lol (I don't have many friends I just watch my classmates--), Mentions of NSFW jokes

- Filipino Reader, Taglish swearing dialogues

____________________________________________________

- They're the worst, but also the best and ya'll just vibe

Childe

- The rich kid who insists on paying for the food you buy

- Every time in class, he'd tap on your shoulder from where he sat and act like he's paying attention to the teacher whenever you turn to glare at him. Gives subtle side glances and finds your pissed expression hilarious

- The type to place cold drinks against your cheek out of nowhere

"Yah!!? Gago, Ajax-- can you fucking stop!?" You hissed, earning a chuckle from the lad

"It's not that cold, ha-ha"

- You ignored him for the rest of the class which caused him to buy you one of your favorite snacks as he pleads for you to stop giving him the cold shoulder. He's still gonna do it again, but he won't mind buying more food for you (Win-win I suppose)

- His grades are fairly average, but still insists you tutor him. He'll drag Thoma in one of your study sessions to make you accept his request.

- You have a soft spot for Tohma and he takes advantage of it

- He calls you "Ate" as a joke, but it eventually became a natural thing for the both of you

"Ate, when's the deadline for the assignment that Ma'am gave us again?"

- Whether you're older than him or not, he has taken a liking to the Honorific

- You once fell asleep in class and was the only person inside the room, when he arrived, he immediately snapped a few pics of your drooling face before blasting "Never gonna give you up" from the Bluetooth speaker he owns

"D-did you just.. Fucking 'Rick roll' me awake..?"

"Yeah. Pretty hilarious in my opinion,"

- He has Tiktok and forces you all to join his shenanigans

- If he can't annoy you, then he'll annoy Scaramouche. You don't know how, but he got him to be accidentally sent to the elementary department's floor, which made a teacher think he's a 4th grade student.

- He got a lotta bumps in the head from the angry gremlin later on

Tohma

- The goodie two shoes friend and also the teacher's errand boy (next to Aether/Lumine)

- I feel like he has a collection of different bandana's/Headband's with all kinds of designs. He once got you a bear themed headband for your birthday

- Often gets in trouble with Childe (and the rest of you gets into trouble as well) so you all get to clean the classroom

- Kind of the mom friend but not really. Maybe it's the fact that he often notices small things about you and the others. Like the fact that he knows about your obsession with sweet/salty foods, The fact that he knows about Childe's soft spot for whales and that Scaramouche always puts aesthetic shades of eye shadow. He has fun with you all and always points out your small habits that he finds adorable.

- All his pencils are chewed and chucked, and you once thought a dog did that. He often bites into them when he's bored or just in a random trance, you had to stop him before he could finish the whole thing.

"Tohma snap out of it! You're gonna scarf the whole thing at this point!!"

"h-huh..!?" The moment he noticed the bite marks all over the wooden object he only laughed it off. Later on he didn't notice he was chewing it again, which caused it to snap. You let him borrow yours and he made sure not to bite into them this time.

- Though.. you later on find a few nibbles on the top part of the pen, making you sigh

-You bought him a set of Chewable pencil toppers and he was ecstatic to say the least.

- Whenever you guys go to the gym for P.E he always gets hit in the head with the ball, he doesn't know why. The next day he brought a helmet to school and that made Childe go into a fit of laughter

- When he got hit by a ball sometime in P.E, he actually got badly injured, so you both went into the infirmary to treat his injured forehead.

"Punyeta. Why can't those 4th grader brats just stay on their side of the Gym? this shit always happens to you" You scowled as you tend to his wound

"Ha-ha.. even if they were on their side, I doubt the ball won't hit me" He sighs with a sheepish smile

- Has Tiktok as well, but the reason is to like most of Childe's Videos (very supportive friend lol)

- The escort of your class (And Ayaka was the class muse)

- He often get's into those Class Pageant contests (and the UN themed ones as well). He has a wardrobe filled with all the costumes he used lol

"Hold still Tohma! That get up looks great beside the vending machine," Childe cackles as he takes pictures of the blonde

"LMAO-- He's literally in a sparkling suit- HA HAHA" you mirrored his actions, taking out your phone. He plays along, posing with each snap of the camera's, while Scaramouche just deadpans at you three's antics.

Scaramouche

- The Sassy Honor student

- He's cold and snappy to everyone, including you. But don't worry, he warmed up eventually, though he still acts a teensy bit cold towards you.

- You guys were seat buddies while he and Childe were on the same club

- He trusts you to do his eyeshadow so you often both do each other's makeup (It's not allowed in campus so you both have glasses to slightly hide your eye makeup, matching glasses of course.

- He has a small taser keychain in his school ID and bag, and once threatened Ajax with it (He kept calling him short)

- Whenever your group goes out to eat you both get Drinks (Boba) together while Childe and Tohma goes ahead and buy Fish balls (lol)

- He once got a bad grade for the first time and he kept brushing it off whenever people ask about it, but you know that's not how he actually feels

"Hey Scara.. You sure you're ok? " You asked, when the both of you were alone in the classroom.

That's all it took for him to sigh and lean against your shoulder, mumbling a small "No"

It shocked you, but proceeded to place your hand on top of his crown to comfort him, after a few seconds of the both of you sitting in comfortable silence, he speaks up again

"Not a word about this. Or else I'll tase you."

"Sheesh, sunget naman" You giggled

- He sometimes uses you as an arm stand, it doesn't matter if you're taller or shorter, He'll stand on top of a chair just to lay his elbow on your head and he smirks down at you whenever you tell him to get it off, you couldn't convince him to, so you just accepted your fate.

- You were both often the sarcastic duo of your group and would always retort mean insults to the ginger (As a joke though, you three insult each other as friend of course.)

- Intellectual insults, brought to you by our favorite sassy boi

What the squad is like

- Ajax and Scaramouche are your classic Volleyball players and LMAO- they're basically Kageyama and Hinata in reverse

"The fuck kinda serve was that?" The red head teases

"Shut up you orange tree"

"Well, at least no one ever assumes I'm a 4th grader~"

"THE FUCK YOU SAY YOU IMBECILE!?" He snaps, hitting the ball with a strong slap when it reached over the net. And because he was out of focus, that ball ended up landing into Tohma who was cheering in the sidelines with you

"T-Tohma!!!" you shrieked as his soul starts to leave his body

- Whenever Scaramouche is very fired up in a game,you and Tohma would cheer and chant at him with these specific words;

"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Will you do the Fandango!? ~"

- He tells you to stop cause it's embarrassing, but you don't and he honestly secretly enjoys it

- Your squad would sometimes ask Tohma to buy some snacks in the cafeteria (With Childe paying lol) and at this point he's carrying a reusable bag as if he were going to the market

"Eh? Tohma, why do you have that bag with you?" A student asks "Are you going to the market?.. But School's still going.."

"Oh, this? Ha-ha nah! I'm just going to the cafeteria"

- The Cafeteria staff kinda got used to the same orders he'd often list out so they just dump them in the bag and Tohma gives them the cash with a simple thank you as if it was a routine (Hm, maybe it already is)

- When all of you would hang out, out of school you'd go to the arcade and it takes Childe a whole minute or two in the Claw machine. You almost got banned because kept cursing so loudly (there were little kids around)

- You and Scaramouche would play shooting games and holy shit he's good-

-You asked him if he ever had experiences in actual guns and he responded with;

"Oh, no. I just envision the targets as that Idiot who can't get anything from the Claw machine" He points at Childe

"HEY!"

- Childe and Tohma would battle through DDR and it either ends with a tie or you and Scara having to drag them out cause it was getting late.

-Lots of prizes earned and Childe swore he was close to buying the entire claw machine (Damn rich boi--)

- At the end of the day, all you three would get your preferred drinks as you all gaze at the nearest beach sunset. (You had the classic soda and straw in a bag of course)

- Whenever you plan, get together's like these, you always looked forward to them

- But let's say hypothetically that your parents are strict or didn't let you join them this time, well bestie, it's either they wont go and reschedule or kidnap you lmao

- Childe asked you to come outside of your house and the moment you did, you were met by a car and a laughing Childe and Tohma who carried you bridal style towards the vehicle

"Pukeng ina-- Mom's gonna kill me!!" you laughed into the gingers arms, hitting him playfully

"Quick Tohma!" He calls out to the boy, getting inside the car as he still holds onto you "Drive bitch! drive!!"

- By the time you got home you almost got banned from ever hanging out with them (You got grounded though LMAO)

- Your Group chat's are filled with chaos.

-Memes, Arguments (Scara and Childe) and Assignment answers were the contents of your chats

Tortang talong: [Bitch]

Fandak-go: [Bitcher]

Mama's boi: [Guys can someone send me today's assignments?]

Tortang talong: [*Sends a rick roll*]

Fandak-go: [That's like the 100th time you've sent the same joke as before.]

Fandak-go: [You're so fucking Un-original]

Tortang talong: [Please.]

Tortang talong: [ Compare my sense of humor to yours and you'll see how superior I'am to you]

Mama's boi: Guys, please :"D

Fandak-go: [Superior to me?]

Fandak-go: [Like that'll ever happen.]

Tortang talong: [My level is higher than yours, considering your height-]

Fandak-go: [I'll fucking strangle you.]

Tortang-talong: [I'd like to see you try and reach my head.]

Cult master: [Bitchest]

Cult master: [Awe- I'm too late XC]

Mama's boi: [Y/n help- please-]

Cult master: [Oki hun, what do u need?]

Cult master: [Holy shit wait- we have assignments!?]

- You're a group of chaotic idiots

- But at least you're all in it together and that's what matters<3

Translations

Gago = Stupid/Idiot

Ate = Older sister/ Can be also used as an honorific for women who are a bit older than you

Punyeta = Asshole

"sunget naman" = "so sassy"

Pukeng ina (Putang ina) = Putang ina translates to "You're mom's a whore" but can also be an expression of "Mother whore" leading to something like this "Mother whore! you scared me!!" and 'Puke' means; Pussy, so this dialogue translates to "Pussy Mother" or "Fucking pussy"

Tortang talong = Fried Eggplant omelette

Fandak-go = Fandango and Pandak mixed together. Pandak means short

#genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #childe #tohma #scaramouche #school au #genshin impact school au #filipino reader #fluff #head canon

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 52: Tattoos

When he left the Wizarding World, Harry hadn't thought too much about what would happen to Draco Malfoy after he testified for him at his trial.

If pressed, he probably would have assumed that Malfoy would have continued in his father's footsteps. He would have imagined well tailored suits and robes, long blonde hair, the same aristocratic nose tipped in the air.

So, perhaps his jaw all but hitting the floor when he saw the other man for the first time in five years was understandable.

And it wasn't the fact that he was walking into the muggle bar that Harry worked at that shocked him, it was the fact that Malfoy had trimmed his hair short on the sides and left the top long; it was that he'd dyed it hot pink.

It was the fact that his left arm had a muggle tattoo covering the dark mark that had once been there with beautiful, bright flowers; new life coming out of death. It was the dragon tattoo peaking out of the collar of his shirt, that Harry guessed, was shaped around his namesake constellation.

It was the loose, black v-neck, muggle t-shirt tucked into skinny jeans that were cuffed just above his ankles. And the three earrings in the cartilage at the top of his right ear.

It was that he looked nothing like the stiff, tidy, pretentious twat that Harry would have envisioned him growing into and it made Harry wonder what else he was wrong about.

Malfoy caught sight of him a few second later and literally froze in place.

"What can I get you?" Harry asked, giving him a little smile.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, cocking his head uncertainly, "You look like someone I used to know."

(Read more below the cut)

And that was fair, too, Harry supposed. He didn't look anything like the scrawny, desperate teen he'd been the last time Malfoy saw him, either. Harry had grown a good six inches since then, his shoulders had filled out, he'd grown his hair long because the curls were less messy that way, he'd grown a beard that he kept short and tidy, and he had a few tattoos of his own. "You look like someone I used to know, too," he replied, "But you can't possibly be the same person that I thought I knew and I'm sure that I'm not quite what you thought either." He tilted his head at Malfoy, "What can I get you?" he repeated.

"What would you recommend?" Malfoy asked as he slid into a bar stool with a touch more caution than Harry liked.

"Do you like sweet drinks?" he asked, "I have this cotton candy drink that we make with cranberry juice and raspberry vodka," then he added, "And cotton candy, obviously."

"That would definitely be something I've never tried before," Malfoy replied with a little smile.

"Done." While Harry was making the drink he said, "So what brings you so far from home?"

Malfoy cocked his head, "I left home ages ago," he said. "Disowned, as a matter of fact."

Harry frowned as he reached under the bar to fetch the cotton candy, "What? Why?"

Harry saw him lift one shoulder casually before having to stick his head into the cupboard below to reach the bag of cotton candy in the back, "Apparently, Malfoys are allowed to make all sorts of mistakes and commit all sorts of atrocities, but being gay was just one step too far for them."

Harry bashed the back of his head against the bar in his haste to stand up, "Wait, you're-?" he started before registering just how badly that had hurt, "Ouch, fuck," he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Here," Malfoy murmured, holding out his hand, "Let me."

Harry leaned over and Malfoy gently cupped the back of his head and murmured something under his breath. A moment later a warm, tingly feeling suffused Harry's head and all of the pain disappeared.

"Wow," Harry said, rubbing the back of his skull again and feeling for any tender spots, "That was amazing."

Malfoy shrugged and Harry went back to working on the drink. "I was training to be a healer," he confessed softly so no one would overhear, "But then I had one too many people refuse to let me help them because of-" he broke off and shook his head, "Well you know."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said with a frown as he slid the drink across the bar. He was about to say more when Ben, one of his regulars, came up to the bar for a refill, "Hold that thought," he said, making his way over to get him another bourbon.

"This," Malfoy said, pointing to the drink Harry had made him when he returned a few minutes later, "Is actually quite tasty, Potter."

He laughed, "No need for the tone of surprise, this has been my job for nearly five years now. And you can call me, Harry," he added.

The corner of Draco's mouth tilted up, "Oh I can, can I?"

Harry nodded, "And I think I'll be calling you Draco."

"Bold of you," he said but he was smiling so Harry didn't take him too seriously.

"Gryffindor," he replied, pointing to himself with a wink. "So tell me about yourself, Draco," he said.

And to his surprise and utter delight, Draco did. He sat at the bar, sipping that martini before switching over to lemonade, all evening, telling Harry about his life and asking questions about Harry in turn.

One things led to another and by the time Harry was getting ready to leave, Harry was really not ready for the night to end.

"Can I walk you home?" Draco asked, apparently he wasn't ready for it to end either.

Harry smiled at him and nodded toward his house, they set off down the street talking about nothing. He only lived a few blocks away and they found themselves standing at the bottom of Harry's steps all too soon.

"Will you punch me if I kiss you?" Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head with a smile he couldn't quite hide, and leaned forward to meet Draco halfway. The moment their lips met, Harry's veins felt like they'd been set on fire. He reached out and clasped the fabric of Draco's t-shirt in his hands and pulled him forward, crashing their bodies together.

"Come inside," Harry begged against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back, brow furrowed slightly, "You want this? With me?"

"Godric, yes," he groaned. "Please."

The other man gave him a breathless little smile and Harry dragged him up the stairs and straight to the bedroom.

Afterward, Harry got up to order them some pizza and when he returned, Draco was laid on his back on the bed, his pink hair fanned out across the pillow, Harry couldn't help but think that his body looked more gorgeous than any work of art he'd ever seen. And Harry sat up beside him admire him better, "I thought this one was your constellation," he murmured triumphantly, stroking his fingers over the dragon that curled over his collarbone and up his neck.

"Well spotted," Draco said, a smile in his voice.

He brushed his fingers over the snitch on Draco's chest, "I've got one of these, too," he murmured, leaning a bit so Draco can see the snitch he has on his own hip.

"Yes, I noticed," Draco replied, giving him a little smirk, "What does it say under it?"

"I open at the close," Harry said.

Draco hummed, "You'll have to tell me the story sometime."

"I'd like that," Harry told him, surprised to find that it was true since he'd never wanted to talk to anyone about the war. He trailed his fingers over the flower that had been tattooed over Draco's heart. "For your mum?" he asked.

He gave him a sad smile and nodded, "The black narcissus."

"These are for my parents," he told him, pointing to the antlers adorned with lilies along his collarbones.

"What are these ones?" he asked, trailing his fingers over the Marauder's map style footprints on his bicep and shoulder.

"These," he said, twisting to show Draco that they wrapped around his shoulder and onto his back, "are names of the people who have held me up, some of them still living, and others who live on in me." He grinned at him, "I'll show you the map they're modeled after the next time I have it out."

"Do you have any others?"

"Yeah," Harry said, collapsing onto his back so he could show Draco his ankle, "Deathly Hallows on my ankle."

Draco's fingers brushed lightly over his skin and Harry's spine tingled pleasantly.

"Do you have others?" he echoed

He nodded and rolled over onto his stomach and Harry had to hold back a gasp, "Beautiful," he whispered, trailing his fingers lightly over the wings covering Draco's shoulder blades.

"They're to remind me that I am free. I made my choice to fly instead of staying shackled."

"They're beautiful," Harry repeated.

Draco reached back and pointed to his neck and Harry's eyes followed to a compass. "To remind me that I choose the direction of my life from here on out."

"I love that," Harry replied, flopping back down on the bed next to Draco. "I'm planning my next one."

"Oh?" Draco asked, turning his head to the side and resting it on his forearms so he could look at Harry.

Harry nodded, "A constellation as well, Sirius, and wolfsbane incorporated somehow."

"Are all of yours for people, then?"

"Yeah," he replied, about to say more when the doorbell rang. "That'll be the pizza. Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" he asked as he stood up and started looking for a pair of pants to put on to answer the door

"I should go-"

"Draco," he said, leaning in and stealing another kiss, "Stay. Please."

"For how long?" Draco asked.

The doorbell rang again and Harry stumbled into his boxers, "For as long as you want. Stay forever if you like."

And he was surprised to find that he was only half joking.

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Please go look at this GORGEOUS art by @pato-roldnart. I'm completely in awe of how talented they are. It's just like I imagined it and I am totally in love!

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Day 51: Parents | Day 53: First Anniversary

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry drabble #drarry ficlet #tattoos #I am weak for tattoos #and piercings #Day 52 #enjoy!#getting together

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

technicolor (f.w.)

prompt request by anon: it is said that when you meet your soulmate, you will know because the world that you knew in black and white would turn technicolor. during a harmless game of spin the bottle, you didn’t expect your soulmate to be revealed to you.

warnings: drinking, mentions of eating, mild language

pairing: fred weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

word count: 5.3k

The power of true love was life altering in your world. Literally. The world was painted in shades of blacks, whites, and grays. It always was for those who hadn’t met their true love, their soulmate, their one and only. It was said on the occasion that you had kissed your soulmate, the world before you would erupt into vibrant color. People spent their whole lives, searching for the person who brought color to them.

Living in a dull, colorless world was mundane to say the least, but it was all you knew. The idea of living in a world of color was an exciting thought to say the least, but in a way it scared you. Suddenly the world as you knew it changing abruptly before your eyes because you had met someone that destiny created for you? It was a scary thought. But in your head, you had nothing to worry about. You didn’t plan on meeting your soulmate any time soon.

Or so you thought.

Laying upside down on the common room couch, you flipped through the pages of a Quibbler, not really paying attention to the words on the page. You looked on either side of you, Katie painting her nails on your left and Alicia on the right making light chatter with Angelina. Needless to say, the four of you were bored out of your skull. It was a quiet Friday night, nothing happening in the common room. No parties, no quidditch match, no nothing.

With a groan, you pull yourself up from your inverted position and speak, “So are we all just going to sit around here like a bunch of bums and wait for something exciting to happen?”

Katie sighs, “That’s even if something exciting happens.” She blows on her nails, shaking her hands back and forth to expedite the drying process. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

The two of you look to Alicia and Angelina who just shrug as you throw your head back in annoyance. “Well, someone think of something because I refuse to let a perfectly good Friday night go to waste,” you flop the Quibbler on the table in front of you and hold your arms across your chest. “What can we do to entertain ourselves?”

Alicia stands up and starts pacing, trying to think of something. “We could...sneak some food out from the kitchens? Convince a house elf to sneak us some sweets from dinner two nights ago. Those biscuits were so good,” she thinks out loud.

Katie groans, “The thought of food makes me sick. I ate so much at dinner tonight after Ron challenged me to see how many dinner rolls I could fit into my mouth.”

The thought of Katie with bread rolls in her mouth makes the group chuckle. “Okay, so food is out of the picture,” Alicia speaks with a soft smile. “What about a movie? I can see if Hermione would let me borrow her projector and we could watch one of those movies I have tucked away in my trunk,” she suggests, surveying the group’s reaction.

Angelina makes a sour face. “We had a movie marathon last week, I’d like to do something different,” she tells Alicia who rolls her eyes.

Alicia huffs, plopping herself back onto the couch. “Well, then I’m out of ideas, so you come up with something, Johnson.”

The group sits in a bored silence for a few moments before Angie breaks the silence. “Should I go bother Fred and George? Surely they’ll find something to do. They always make things interesting,” she speaks, raising her brows, gaging her audience’s reaction.

Katie rolls her eyes, “Merlin, Angie, if you want an excuse to see your darling Georgie, you can just say so.” You laugh at her comment and give Katie a teasing high five as Alicia giggles along. Angelina rolls her eyes and leans back on the couch. Angelina and George had been dating ever since sixth year when they kissed after their first date and they had seen the world in color, confirming their soulmate status. Katie mockingly starts teasing Angie now, “Meh, meh, I’m Angie, I love George, I see the world in color. Meh, meh, my sweater is green and not black like you guys see it, blah, blah,” making you cackle, throwing your head back in laughter, clutching your stomach.

You lean into Katie as you laugh, making her laugh harder as Angelina stands up, “Oh, piss off you two! I can’t help it that he’s my soulmate and I found him so early!”

“We’re just teasing you, Angie,” you wipe the tears of laughter from your eyes. “Go on, go fetch the twins. I’m sure they’ll think of something to do. Tell ‘em to bring Jordan with them if he’s around. Lee is always a good time.” Alicia nods in agreement.

With a small smile, Angelina darts off up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Alicia shakes her head, “That girl is whipped for the Weasley. I can’t believe she found her soulmate already. We’re not even eighteen yet.”

It was true. It wasn’t unheard of people finding their soulmates at a young age, but it surely wasn’t common. Most people were friends or knew their soulmates for a while before they were aware that they were in fact soulmates. For example, your parents both went to Hogwarts and we friends for years. It wasn’t until after four years after graduation that they realized they were soulmates. You smiled to yourself at the thought of your parents. You wished that you could have a soulmate story like theirs.

Katie folds her arms across her chest, “Quite frankly I hope I don’t meet my soulmate anytime soon. I feel like after you meet your soulmate, you’re expected to drop everything and be with them. But you have your whole lives ahead of you to spend time with each other. I’d rather be single and have fun and live my life in black and white for a while before seeing color with a soulmate.”

In a way you did agree with Katie. Most people who met their soulmate at a young age tended to drop everything in order to be there for their soulmate. Coordinating their lives and schedules to their soulmates, moving cities for them, planning their days around the other. It just seemed so intense. You were seventeen, you couldn’t drop everything right now for another person.

Moments later, Angelina happily came down the stairs with a large smile on her face as George, Fred, and Lee all trailed behind her. “The entertainment has arrived, ladies,” George speaks with a big beaming smile on his face as you teasingly rolled your eyes.

You sit up and speak, “What entertainment did you bring, Georgie?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended at your comment. “Are we not enough for you, (Y/N)? Is our presence not enough?” George mockingly stumbles back. “Freddie, I feel faint! Catch me!”

Dramatically, Fred scoops up his twin brother as George pretends to faint. “Merlin’s beard, (Y/N), look at what you’ve done!” he mockingly screeches as you roll your eyes and giggle. Katie huffs a here we go as she leans back into the couch. The twins always put on a show when they were around you guys. You never minded it; they were quite funny when they wanted to be. “Quick, Lee, we need to revive him!”

Lee, now in on the joke, runs over to the coffee table and clear it quickly. “Bring him here!” he exclaims as Fred lays a fake limp George on the table as you laugh and Alicia scoffs.

“Good Godric, you three are a bunch of idiots,” she huffs with a smile on her face. No matter how much she hated to admit it, this was much better than sitting around and doing nothing.

Fred speaks, “Alright, Lee, give me the reviving potion,” sticking out his hand.

Even more dramatic than before, Lee pulls out a large bottle of fire whiskey from his satchel as he improvises an operatic song as he places it in Fred’s hands. Lee opens George mouth as Fred uncorks the bottle and pours a glug into George’s mouth. George swallows it and dramatically inhales. “I’ve been revived!” he exclaims as the boys cheer.

Katie perks up at the sight of fire whiskey. “Where in the hell did you get a bottle of that?” she sits up and grabs the bottle from Fred’s hands. Lee pulls out a few cups from his satchel and places them on the table, Katie immediately pouring everyone a glass of fire whiskey.

Fred smiles, “It’s our emergency bottle. In case situations like this happen.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Alicia speaks up, “And exactly how many emergency bottles do you boys have?”

The trio looks at each other before sighing and speaking as a chorus, “Four.”

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought,” she laughs before taking a cup of fire whiskey from Katie, Katie then handing you one. “Well, it’s better than nothing I guess.”

You look at the whiskey in your cup before sighing and taking a sip, the liquid burning your throat, but warming your chest up in all the right ways. A familiar sensation. You hum in contentment. “Better than nothing is damn right,” you smile as the twins chuckle. “What were you lot doing upstairs?”

Lee takes a seat in the chair across from the couch, “Same thing as you gals. Bored out of our skulls. However, these two numbskulls were trying to conjure up a plan to go pull a prank on Filch.” George snickers as Lee flicks the back of his head, earning a small ow. “Good thing you all were bored too otherwise I would have been dragged into that mess.”

Fred scoffs, “Oh please, you wish you could pull off a prank at the caliber that Georgie and I do. Isn’t that right, brother?” He turns to George who is already cuddled up next to Angelina on the love seat, arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close next to him. Fred rolls his eyes and makes a gagging sound. “You two make me sick.”

George just pulls Angie closer to his side as Angie blushes a deep crimson. “You’re just jealous, Freddie. I’ve got a hot girlfriend and I can see the world in color, making it quite obvious that you, dear brother, are green with envy.” Angie rolls her eyes, but still places a soft kiss to George’s cheek.

Fred shakes his head, “He’s gone soft, Lee. We’ve lost one of our bravest soldiers.”

“Piss off,” Angie speaks up, defending her boyfriend as Freddie chuckles, lips turning into a gorgeous smile. “Now that we’ve all got our drinks, let’s really get the party started...” she wiggles her eyebrows. “Katie Bell, truth or dare.”

Katie groans and sips her fire whiskey before deciding what she wants to do. As she ponders, you see Fred scoot over to you as you giggle, him dragging his bum on the floor, making his way to you. Fred smiles up at you, “This seat taken?” he refers to the spot on the floor right in front of your legs.

You shake your head with a smile, “It’s got your name written all over it, Weasley.”

Fred gives you a cheeky grin, “Brilliant.”

He turns around and leans his back up against your legs and rests one of his arms on your knees. You and Fred were close friends. In fifth year when Angelina confessed to you that she had a crush on George, you started spending more time with the twins and developed a close relationship with them and Lee. You, in particular, got along with Fred like a house on fire. The two of you loved to crack jokes on the sidelines, teasing George and Angie, giggling and stealing little glances here and there.

Angelina always told you that you and Fred would make a cute couple. She insisted she saw the way that Fred looked at you, but you always brushed it off as if it were nothing. You and Fred were friends, nothing more, nothing less. A partnership would just totally ruin the vibe between the two of you. There was no point to it. Even though you may have always admired Fred’s looks from a far and his charming personality, you had finally convinced yourself that you and Fred Weasley were platonic.

As Fred leaned up against your legs, sipping on his whiskey, your eyes found Angie’s as she lifted her brows, looking at you knowingly, sending you a look that said Oh? You rolled your eyes and shook your head, responding with your eyes, No way. She just shrugged and sipped her fire whiskey nonchalantly as if to say Whatever you say...You just brushed it off and leaned back as Katie challenged Lee to a dare.

----------

The night progressed and the drinking continued and the bottle got less and less full. Soon enough, the common room was full of your tipsy giggles as the lot of you cracked jokes with each other. You hugged your sides as you cackled as Fred did a spot on impression of Draco Malfoy as he mimicked him walking through the halls, yelling “Potter!” every now and then. Of course, the humor was amplified by the liquor in your hands, but it still was hilarious. The whole group was in a fit of giggles as Lee quite literally fell to the floor from laughter too hard.

Alicia laid her head in your lap as she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes as you all recovered from laughter. “Fred, that was brilliant. You’ll have to show Harry tomorrow morning,” she tells him as Fred plops down next to you on the couch, stealing Katie’s spot as she was now sat on the floor next to Lee.

Fred chuckles and rests his arm around the back of the couch, gently hovering behind you as you suddenly become very aware of his presence. You spot Angelina out of your periphery vision as she smirks to herself before leaning over and whispering something in George’s ear, making George look at you with a devilish smirk on his lips. Your gaze towards them hardens as you mouth, Knock it off. George just smiles and sips his drink quietly, pretending to mind his own business.

You turn to Fred and give him a soft smile as he drops his left eye in a wink, making your heart skip a beat. “Easy, Weasley,” you say in a cautious tone as he lifts his arms in defense. You shake your head and lean back into the couch, bumping into his arm that is draped across the back of the couch. Neither of you bother moving.

Alicia rises from your lap and reaches for the fire whiskey bottle, but groans in defeat when she realizes it’s empty. “Bloody hell,” she groans. She looks to Lee and begs, “Is it appropriate to call this an emergency and you can grab another one of your emergency fire whiskeys?”

Lee laughs, “I regret to inform you we have a one emergency bottle a night policy.” Alicia groans and flops back onto the couch. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in Lee’s mind, making his eyes grow wide and a little smile dance on his lips. “However,” he wiggles his brows and surveys the group. “Now that we’ve got an empty bottle, I think we all know where we can take this party...”

Looking up from her cup, Katie says, “Where are we taking the party? Are we going to bed?” she asks with sadness in her voice. “But the night is so young!”

Shaking his head, Lee looks at Katie. “Are you daft, Bell?” he asks as she rolls her eyes, sipping her whiskey. “I meant we could play a cheeky game of spin the bottle,” Lee suggests.

Alicia huffs, “Really, Jordan? What are we? Fourth years?”

“Oh, come on, Spinnet, it’s just to add a little spice to the mix,” Lee shimmies his shoulders making you laugh. “Besides, it gives you an excuse to have the privilege of planting a sloppy one on me.”

Alicia fake gags. “I’d rather spend a whole day with Professor Snape,” she spits as Lee laughs.

George speaks up now, “Angie and I will sit this one out, but we will watch the show.” He pulls Angie impossibly closer to him as she cuddles into his chest. “For obvious reasons,” he smirks. Fred boos his brother and throws his now empty cup of fire whiskey at him. “What? I am not kissing someone other than my literal soulmate,” he rationalizes. “Besides, you’ve got five players. That’s enough. That is, if everyone is comfortable playing.”

The group all looks at each other, gaging everyone’s feelings of playing a cheeky game. You had to admit you’d rather not play a game as childish as spin the bottle, but for a weird reason, you were keen on playing at least one round. As you looked around, it seemed like everyone was on board to play.

Your eyes meet Fred’s for a moment as he looks at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips for a split second, hoping you wouldn’t catch him. You quickly turn away, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks. “I don’t see the harm in one game,” you shrug as you see Fred smile from the corner of your eye. Lee claps his hands cheering as Alicia and Katie agree.

Fred speaks up, “Well, I can’t let Lee be the only bloke having all the fun, now can I?”

Everyone is on board with the game as Lee cheers, “Alright! Five for five!” He places the empty bottle of fire whiskey on its side in order to spin it. “Everyone knows the rules. You spin and kiss whomever it lands on, no matter who it is. I’m looking at you, Weasley. If you land on me, I expect the best snog of my life,” he teases as you all laugh wildly. “Whomever the bottle lands on gets the next spin. All good?” Everyone nods. Lee smiles, “Groovy. Welp, youngest goes first. Bell, you’re up.”

Katie giggles, “Put on your chapstick, you lucky sons of bitches.” Alicia laughs as Katie reaches and spins the bottle. The bottle does a series of spins, turning clockwise as she anticipates who she’ll be planting a kiss on. She nervously dances back and forth as you watch her with a small smile on your face.

Slowly the bottle stops spinning to land gently on Fred. Your heart stops for a second and your mouth runs dry. You blink a few times and swallow hard. The group all claps their hands and laughs as Katie rolls her eyes. You on the other couldn’t help but have a tight feeling in your chest. You force a smile on your face before you look at Angelina quickly. She raises her brows, monitoring your reaction as you just shake your head, letting her know you were fine.

Katie scoots over to Fred as Fred leans down. “Get ready for your mind to be blown,” Fred jokes as Katie slaps his arm.

You watch very intently as Fred ducks his head down to connect his lips with Katie. You stop breathing for a moment as you watch Fred kiss one of your closest friends. Your palms start sweating and you pull yourself away from looking at them kiss. Lee and Alicia oooh and giggle as you look at Angie, eyes screaming at her, Okay maybe I’m not fine.

She gives you a nervous smile and mouths, “It’s just a silly game.”

You nod your head and shake it off. It was a silly game. That’s all. A stupid, silly, childish game. It meant nothing. You knew Katie didn’t like Fred like that. She had fancied Adrian Pucey for a few months now. This kiss meant literally nothing.

It felt like the kiss had lasted for hours when it was a brief five seconds. Katie pulls away from the kiss and returns to her position on the floor. Fred just smirks and leans back in his seat, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip. You watch as he does so, the small gesture being surprisingly attractive to you as you gulp. But you quickly turn around so Fred doesn’t catch you watching.

Katie laughs, “Eh, you’re nothing to ride home about, Freddie. Hate to break it to you.”

Fred shrugs, “It’s alright, Bell. The first stage of grieving is denial. You’ll eventually accept that that kiss was the best one of your life.”

Lee cackles as Fred joins him in his laugher before leaning over and spinning the bottle for himself. The bottle spins round and round and round as you watch it, the bottle hypnotizing you. You secretly wished that the bottle would land on you, wanting to be able to kiss Fred Weasley and getting the confirmation that you didn’t like Fred in that way. But honestly, you just hoped it was anyone but Katie or Alicia.

The bottle slowly stopped spinning as it gently landed on Lee, making the group erupt in laughter. Lee’s lips drew up in a devilish smile as he rubbed his hands together, “Here I come, big boy!” he exclaims, making you laugh even harder.

Fred laughs and sits up in his seat. “Give it to me, Jordan,” he challenges.

Lee springs to his feet and grabs Fred’s face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks together before smashing his lips on Fred’s. Fred is laughing as Lee kisses him roughly, rocking him back and forth. George is absolutely dying of laughter, falling into his chair as the rest of the group squeals.

Alicia grabs onto your arms, squeezing you as she laughs, you doing the same. The kiss happens for a while as you cackle, “Good Godric, come up for some air why don’t you?”

With a smack, Lee pulls off of Fred as Fred falls back in his seat. Fred’s eyes are wide as Lee wipes his lips. “And that,” Lee points to Fred, “is how you kiss someone. Not that pathetic thing you gave Katie.”

The group comes down from laughing at Lee spins the bottle for himself. The cycle repeats for a while. Lee kisses Alicia, Alicia kisses you, you kiss Katie, Katie kisses Lee, and then the bottle spins again. Lee spins and the bottle gently lands on you as you giggle. “I’m expecting excellence, Lee Jordan,” you eye him as he laughs. “Not going to lie, Alicia might give you a run for your money.”

Lee rolls his eyes, “In her dreams.”

You giggle before the two of you close the gap between you two, kissing each other. The kiss is honestly not bad. Lee’s lips tasted of the fire whiskey along with vanilla and sugar. The kiss was gentle, but not bad at all. Your friends around you all cheer and oooh at you two in typical fashion as you both smile into the kiss. You pull away and Lee sends you a wink. “The reviews are in,” you speak. “Not bad, Jordan. Not bad at all. Actually, pretty damned good!”

Lee pumps his arm. “Hah! Take that, Spinnet!”

“Alright, my turn to spin,” you giggle and excitedly spin the bottle.

The bottle spins and spins and spins as everyone waits in anxious anticipation. Who could it be? Slowly, the bottle stops spinning and lands on the person right next to you, Mr. Fred Weasley.

Your heart stops as your mouth goes dry. Everyone immediately erupts into cheers, specifically George who springs onto his feet. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this one!” he cheers as you gulp.

Kissing Fred Weasley? Maybe this game was a mistake.

You stare at the bottle, and then to Angie who wears the biggest grin on her face, and then back at the bottle and finally to Fred. His eyes stare back at you as you gulp. A smirk dances on Fred’s lips as you suck in a breath. The whole group stares at the pair of you, silent, waiting for something to happen.

The tension between you and Fred was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Cat got your tongue, (Y/L/N)?” Fred teases you as he scoots a little closer to you. You suck in a shaky breath as he chuckles lowly.

You snap yourself out of this anxious gaze and speak, confidence now coursing through your veins. You were going to kiss your best friend and it was happening now. “Make your move, Weasley,” you challenge with flirtation laced in your voice.

Fred smiles, “No need to tell me twice,” he lowly whispers.

Immediately, Fred cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. Your lips connect and the whole group loudly cheers and screams. You hear Lee scream, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”

But you couldn’t care what was happening. You were kissing Fred. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Fred’s lips were soft, but demanding as they pressed firmly onto yours. His lips tasted of sweet cinnamon and spice; his lips were like a personal drug that you couldn’t get enough of. You pressed your lips harder against his as you both sucked in a breath, your hand resting on his forearm. His lips moved gently against yours as you both enjoyed this kiss too much for a friendly game of spin the bottle.

You opened up your mouth enough for Fred to slide his tongue in, massaging his with yours as you moan just loudly enough for Fred to hear, making him smile into your kiss. As the group watched you two softly snog, they only cheer louder. You were too involved in relishing in the way Fred’s lips felt pressed against yours to care about how your friends were reacting.

The kiss was everything you wanted a first kiss with someone to be. It was gentle, but didn’t lack in passionate or desire. His lips moved in sync with yours as you followed his lead, his tongue dancing with yours. It was exactly how you imagined kissing Fred Weasley.

You are pulled from your thoughts when George cries out, “For Merlin’s sake Freddie, don’t eat the poor girl!”

Gently, you break the kiss as Fred’s lips follow yours for a moment, not wanting the kiss to end just yet. The two of you keep your eyes closed, relishing in the moment that you two shared.

Lee laughs, “Is it just me or is it hot in here?”

You giggle and gently pry your eyes open. But that’s when you gasp.

You look at Fred who sits in front of you in full color. His bright red hair contrasting against the light blue thermal shirt he wears. His brown eyes stare at you just as much in shock.

It happened.

“Merlin’s beard...” you whisper.

The room fall silent as your friends stare at the two of you in confusion, wondering what could have possibly happened that made the two of you stare at each other in shock.

“Is it...” you start.

“Yeah,” Fred answers. He lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

You let out a light laugh with him and slowly, look around the room taking in your surroundings, the whole common room in beautiful colors of maroon and gold. Color dances everywhere as you let out an amazed chuckle.

Looking at Angie with amazement, she suddenly realizes exactly what’s going on. A smile erupts on her face as she lets out a sigh. “Good Godric,” she breathes. She looks at George. “It happened.”

The entire group registers what is happening as they stare at the two of you in awe as you two take in your surroundings gentle. “Oh shit,” Lee breathes out with a smile. “That’s bloody brilliant...”

You look back at Fred who just wears a gentle smile on his face as you look deeply into his chocolate brown eyes that swim with amazement and adoration. You could look into those eyes forever. And lucky for you, that’s what you were going to do.

Breaking the silence, Angelina says, “We’ll leave you two to it then. Guys...”

Your friends all start to leave the common room, running up the stairs to the dormitories, definitely to chat about what just happened.

You are now left with Fred in the common room, sitting on the couch together, staring at each other in technicolor. “Hi, Freddie,” you breathe out with a smile.

Fred smiles, “Hi, (Y/N),” he reciprocates. The two of you just take the other one in for a few moments as you gulp. What were you supposed to say? What were you supposed to do? Merlin’s sake, this was supposed to be a cheeky game of spin the bottle and all of a sudden. “We’re soulmates,” Fred speaks plainly.

“I guess so,” you laugh. You gently bite your lip. “I never thought it would be you, Fred.”

He inhales a long breath. “I had a feeling,” Fred admits as you teasingly smack his arm. “I’m glad I was right,” he confesses as you blush. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. With and without color,” he tells you. “I didn’t think that you could get more gorgeous, but color has proved me wrong.”

You shake your head, “Freddie...” you trail off, blushing wildly, crimson appearing on your cheeks for the first time. Fred takes your hand in his and gently rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You give into his touch, nothing feeling more right. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

Fred lifts your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re soulmates,” he repeats himself as you nod. “Wow...so, we get to spend forever with each other, huh? You’re going to get really tired of me, aren’t you?” he jokes as you laugh.

“I could never grow tired of you,” you confess, squeezing his hand. You run your hand through his red hair. The signature of the Weasleys that you could finally see now. “I do have to say though,” you start. “I was not expecting your hair to be this red.”

Fred laughs, “Get used to it, darling. You’ll be staring at it for the rest of your life. Not to mention, the Weasley genetics are strong. Sorry to say that if we decide to have kids, they’ll end up like this.”

You roll your eyes, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Freddie.” He smiles and sends you a wink. “So,” you breathe out. “What do we do now?”

He inhales deeply and sighs. “Well,” he starts. “I think we ought to tell people, specifically our parents,” he says as you nod. “But other than that, we do what we want.” You gaze into Fred’s eyes and smile. “(Y/N), we have the rest of our lives together. There’s no rush. We can go at our own pace. We don’t have to pay attention to what people say we should be doing. I’m just happy that we’ve found each other that way we can start forever now.”

Your heart fills with joy and adoration at his words. You had always worried that you wouldn’t love soulmate, nevertheless like them, but loving Fred Weasley was going to be the easiest task of your life. Living your forever in color together.

“Sounds good to me, Weasley,” you smile.

Fred leans in and closes the gap between you two, kissing you again sweetly like he had done minutes ago for the first time. His lips are even gentler than before on yours as you smile into the kiss. Fred pull away and smiles, “Reckon we go upstairs and get the teasing out of the way from the lot?”

You take a moment. “Let’s wait a little while. We have forever for them to tease us. We’ll only have this moment for a short time.”

He shakes his head. “Merlin, you’re perfect.”

And there the two of you laid in each other’s arms, taking in the new colorful world before you, souls now connected forever. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred wealsley x gryffindor! reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut

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