#like yes the date and the romantic angle is exciting. but i dont need it to save me like i used to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randomoranges · 3 years

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a million yrs ago i drew an art with the wheel. and there was a fic for an au and i was like theres another part thats not au

i never got around to it - didn’t really know how to go about it really

and then the other night this idea came to flirt with me and it had more banter but i still dont know how to plug my brain into a word doc so that convos that play in my head can happen on “paper”

anyways; yes i over use same themes over and over and over again :)

Ferris Wheel Summer 2021+

“So,” Edward started as they rounded the corner and had a clear view of the Ferris wheel, “How many times have you been on it since it opened?” He asked his boyfriend, joking tone and all. It was a bright sunny summer day and a walk around town had inevitably led them into the Old Port.

“Honestly? Probably a lot less than you think – I’ve only been on it once,” Étienne told him with a shrug.

“You got me; that is less than I thought, but you mean to tell me that you haven’t taken any of your hot dates on a romantic ride on the Ferris wheel?” Edward waggled his eyebrows for show and Étienne laughed, but crinkled his nose at the thought of doing such a thing.

“Nah – it’s too much for a casual thing – too loaded. The whole get to the top and stop, romantic vibes abound and such. Ferris wheel is either for families, tourists or couples. Maybe a group of friends, but it depends.” He declared as though a study had been made on the fact and he had spent hours studying these factors.

“All right, so you’re not a tourist, I doubt you came here with your brothers, last I heard you’re not in a relationship with anyone else – who’d you come with?”

“You’re right on all accounts, but you forgot I have a sister. El and I came on opening day,” He admitted, if a little sheepish.

“Of course you were here on opening day,” Edward said with a roll of his eyes. How silly of him to think that the Maisonneuve twins wouldn’t have been here on the inauguration of the wheel, when they were known to be at every opening of every new thing in the city – especially new, in vogue things. “But also, that’s sweet.” He added. He’d always thought it was nice how close Étienne and Élyse were and how even though they didn’t always agree and had different opinions on literally everything; their love for their city prevailed and they found time to enjoy it together. Edward tried to picture himself doing something of the likes with his own sister and nearly laughed. This would not have been the type of thing he and Edith would have done together, but then again, their relationship was different. Maybe it was a twin thing.

They fell quiet and kept walking closer to the wheel, strolling down the boardwalk in front of it. It was nice to see the waterfront busy again and filled with locals and tourists alike after the emptiness that had befallen it in recent years due to the pandemic. In a sense, it reassured Edward that if anything, this part of the city was recovering and that Étienne would still have this.

They stopped at a clearing and leaned against the railing to observe the wheel and the small plaza around it and it was nice to listen to the bird song and the excited chatter of the people around them, while below, others peddled on rented pedal boats.

“We should go,” Edward said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Now?” Étienne asked to be sure he was hearing right, surprised, really, that Edward would suggest going.

“No, next Tuesday – yes now, come on. We’re here, I’ve never been, and I can tell you’d want to go on it again.”

Edward smirked and Étienne closed his mouth, letting his comment die at his lips. His boyfriend had a point. He did actually want to go on it again, but going on it alone seemed a little silly and Emma hadn’t really wanted to ride the wheel. Bringing a fling had seemed like too much – as though he was trying to impress when really, they were both in it for something much different and less lasting. However, Edward was his boyfriend and – he had thought of bringing him out here. On more than one occasion. (But there had been a pandemic and then they had done other things on Edward’s last visit and there hadn’t been time for this.)

Now, however...

Edward grabbed Étienne’s hand and led him over the footbridge and to the small line. Étienne tried hard not to trip over the fact that Edward had willingly and without prompting reached out for his hand and then reverted to his usual “tour guide” information dump as he blabbered on about the finer points of the wheel, the design, the great features about it and the overall charm it had in this location. Edward thought it was utterly endearing and loved it when his boyfriend went into his excited chatter about different aspects of his city. He could hear the passion and love Étienne had for his home and it made some part of his heart melt. He’d missed this, over their break – missed the palatable excitement Étienne had and could have – the way his face lit up and his hands moved around as he gesticulated.

“Bonjour, deux billets s’il-vous-plait.”

Étienne blinked and realised that he’d been distracted with his ramble to the point where Edward had snuck ahead of him and had now taken out his wallet to pay for the tickets.

“Édouard.” Étienne cautioned, “What are you doing?” He wasn’t about to have his boyfriend pay, not when this was an extremely splurgy thing and highly unnecessary.

“Buying our tickets, move over,” He nudged Étienne out of the way and managed to extract his credit card from his wallet, without Étienne ripping it out of his hands.

“What – no, let me. We’re in Montreal. I pay for things in Montreal.”

Edward looked him dead in the eyes as he tapped his card on the terminal, much to Étienne’s horror and shock. This was betrayal of the highest degree.

“This is not part of our deal!”

“Curly, we have no such deal.” Edward replied calmly as he took the tickets from the teller and thanked them, “Now, come along, you can pay for ice cream later.” Edward put his wallet away and then moved ahead, pleased with his little plan.

“Who said anything about ice cream?” Étienne squawked as he followed Edward to the next line to get onto the Ferris wheel.

“I did – you can take me afterwards.”

Étienne tried to protest, but Edward took his hand again and led him to the railing to get to their Ferris wheel gondola. Étienne tried to pout and be annoyed, but his giddiness over being here with Edward quickly won out as they took their seats side by side.

“See, these are high tech gondolas. You can fix your own temperature and either put the AC or the heating on, weather depending, and you get really nice views once you’ve gained some height.” His previous annoyance was quickly forgotten and Edward silently congratulated himself as Étienne’s previous mood returned.

“Shall we put the heating on?” Edward teased as the doors closed and the gondola started moving quietly.

Étienne rolled his eyes, “It’s summer; I’m good. We can put the AC on if it’s too hot for you. Wouldn’t want you to melt.”

“We can compromise,” Edward said, rolling his eyes, fond, as he adjusted the dials so that they would both be comfortable, but if it was a degree or two on the cold side so that Étienne had an extra excuse to sit close to Edward, well, that was between them.

They settled in afterwards and Edward took in the multiple angles of the view. “Are we supposed to make-out when we get inevitably stuck on the top, or...?” He asked as the wheel quietly turned, a gentle seamless whirring in the background.

“Only if you want and you don’t think it’s too cliché.”

Edward studied him for a moment as Étienne looked at him and then busied himself with the window. Even after knowing him for so long, Étienne could still be an enigma, but Edward liked to think that he had gotten quite good at deciphering him. For as much as his boyfriend claimed he didn’t do romance, Edward had finally found out that it had been a cover – to protect himself from his own difference – from his own way he felt and reacted to romantic attraction. It made sense now, retrospectively, and they’d talked about it, but knowing that and now knowing how it was Étienne felt about him, Edward could tell that there were certain “typical things” Étienne still wanted to do with him – even if they were considered to be a “cliché”.

If anything, Edward thought it was endearing and even if he wasn’t the most outward of people when it came to expressing his emotions and love, he didn’t mind the idea of a kiss or two at the top of the wheel. There was no one else around them anyways. They never needed to tell anyone, if they so desired.

But those were thoughts for later and for now, Edward focused on the view surrounding him.

Étienne hadn’t been lying (not that he would have expected him to); the views were stunning. The canal hugged one side of the island, cradled it close and separated it from the two manmade islands that had been the crown jewels of Expo. Edward remembered that time fondly, even if it still seemed like a hectic fever dream, but there had been a bustle in the air of the city that had left everyone dreaming and hungering for a better future. They had been exciting times full of promise, somehow, and looking back, he thought he could still feel the remnants of that frenzy – still lingering in the air, caught in small glimpses on occasions. Now there were only a few buildings left, prestigious in their own ways, and they added to the charm and attraction of the city, nestled safely in their own spots of the picturesque postcard view.

Behind, the Clock Tower stood proud and erect, a beacon of the past that guided tourists and city folk alike to come and admire its beauty. Further away still, if Edward turned on his seat, the Jacques Cartier bridge connected Montreal to the South shore, while it looked over the brilliant turquoise greens of the water on a sunny day. Sometimes, if the light hit just right, Edward could swear he saw a mirrored image in Étienne’s own eyes and he would feel pulled in – lured in and he’d willingly go – every time.

The wheel completed its first turn and there was still much he hadn’t properly looked at. The Old Port came into view and then panned out as the wheel gained height once more. From above, he could see how the original village – the original city of Montreal had fought floods, fires and winters alike to survive and expand. The original building blocks may have been safely buried underneath their feet and preserved lovingly in Pointe-à-Callière, but the true spirit of the city – the heart of it really – of what it had been and had become lay further ahead, ensconced and treasured in the heart of the mountain that had guided and sheltered many for so long. There, really, was the essence, he believed.

It happened on the third turn. The wheel came to a gentle stop at the top and Étienne leaned closer to one of the sides to get a better look at the waterfront, the bridge, the Biosphere in the back and the bustle of activity below them, mesmerised in what he saw. “It’s really something from this angle...” He murmured, almost as if to himself.

And Edward had to take a small step back to take in the fuller picture before him. The gentle smile splayed out on Étienne’s face was a sight to behold on itself and the way his boyfriend’s face relaxed as he took in the scenery pulled at his heart. Edward could read, even from here, the pride and joy Étienne felt in seeing his own people mingling about and how that tiny little village from before had evolved over the centuries – had thrived despite all odds. Here was where one part of the story had started and further ahead was its origin point, but Étienne was all of that – the element that brought it all together.

It hadn’t always been easy and Edward knew of the struggles Étienne had gone through, but the soft look on his face was worth it and a look he hoped Étienne could carry more often than not. He wordlessly reached for his boyfriend’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as they both quietly took in their own different views.

“It really is,” He agreed, “It really is,” He repeated, softer.

Étienne did the mistake of turning to look back at him and Edward was left speechless by the depth of green he saw in Étienne’s eyes; lured and pulled in once more, like always. Étienne gave him the softest of smiles and Edward swore that the butterflies he felt in his stomach were real; that the swooping feeling he always got when Étienne smiled at him was here to stay.

He tugged himself closer, pulled gently on Étienne’s hand until they were closer and then caressed his boyfriend’s cheek. Edward’s hand was certain and warm, and Étienne leaned closer to him still, holding him, not wanting to let go just yet.

“I love you,” Edward thought, pressing his lips to Étienne’s as the Ferris wheel started its descent. And maybe Étienne heard his thoughts, for the look on his face when they pulled away was open and loving. He looped his arms around Edward’s neck, laughing softly, before going for another kiss and then a third and a fourth.

He didn’t know what it was about the circular form of the gondola – the safety of the bubble that gave them both an illusion of being in a safe enclosure, but it made Edward just a little more daring as he chased a kiss across his boyfriend’s lips and it made Étienne cherish the moment even more.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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webcricket · 4 years

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Great Expectations

Characters: CastielXReader

Word Count: 1297

Summary: A five part fluffy 1st date drabble series. Castiel’s nerves nearly get the better of him when he realizes you didn’t realize that when he asked if you wanted to grab dinner, he was actually asking if you would like to go on a date.

Previous Parts: Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt. 3

Part 4: A Stairway to Heaven

“Open your eyes.”

Eager as you are to see the surprise Cas has in store for you on the bunker’s roof, your breath stutters when he lifts the warmth of his fingers away from where they loosely sheathed your sight. Replacing the dark shielding heat of his hands is a glow of gold against the thin skin shuttering your lashes – a gilded glow very much like that of a sun you know set hours ago.

Eyes flying wide as directed to seek out the source of that strange luminance, strings of tiny twinkling white bulbs crisscrossing the rooftop greet your awestruck vision. In the center, where the lines of light meet, a blanket spreads below; a picnic basket sits strewn to one side.

Suddenly feeling breathless and short on oxygen although you’ve been standing still, you sway backward at the onslaught of sweetness and into the sturdy pillar of the seraph’s frame.

He catches you; a gentle grip encircles your upper arms, easing your spine into the solid cushion of his chest to steady your balance.

“Cas, when-” you whisper, volume weighted in wonderment- “when did you have time to do all this?”

When he speaks, relieved the extent of his worried measures to make tonight special are enough to delight despite the misunderstandings of intent overcome to get here, whatever awkwardness he endured forgotten, the small smile of his satisfaction at your awestruck reaction hovers along the shell of your ear. “Nevermind that-” his rasping voice radiates outward from the spot, exciting pins and needles of pleasure in every nerve- “do you like it?”

You twist in his grasp, throw your arms around his nape, and murmur happily into the hollow of his neck, “I love it!”

Skimming and pressing his palms to return the fondness-fueled embrace, burying his scruffy chin at your shoulder, his blues close; the essence of his being endeavors to imprint the magic of this moment forever into a mind accustomed to only to the seeming certainties of doubt and disappointment.

The molten mingling of heat between your bodies, the way you melt into him as though puzzle pieces perfectly fashioned to fit one another, the subtle scent of lavender and something comelier than anything else in creation clinging to your hair, and the musical mayhem of the pulse reverberating through your ribs, is more succor than he imagined a fallen seraph might find in this world, let alone believe he deserved.

Yet, here you are, flesh and blood and vitality and - he dare not aspire too ardently because you haven’t embarked beyond a hug, heated as it feels to him, at the threshold of a romantic rooftop rendezvous- finally his.

He dare not dream, however, hope nonetheless flusters his senses.

Neither of you hastens to separate, the silent shrouding seconds stretch on in pure contentment.

The grumbling intrusion of your stomach, your stupid hunger-pitted stomach, the very same stomach ticklishly alive in a seraphim-induced swarm of butterflies in frenzied flight, breaks the enchantment.

“Sorry.” Leaning away from the angel, embarrassment deepens the pink flush of your face.

“Don’t be.” Seizing full advantage of the new vantage point of nearness, he brings a hand up to cradle the column of your throat and runs the rough pad of his thumb along the angle of your jaw as he memorizes every freckle and minute furrow upon your face, the glinting of the gaze fixed fondly on him as if he mattered more than anything in existence, and the trembling of lip where he concludes the caress and his careful study.

Self-conscious at the desire occurring to him then to steal a kiss from those petals pliantly parting under the intensity of his stare to hint at their willingness to seal with his own, his focus flicks upward to your eyes.

A soft sigh exhales through your nose - a subtle escape of regret that he did not yield to his obvious yearning, and remorse also that you failed to act on it when he didn’t and Chuck only knows if it took him this long to ask you on a date, how long it will be before you get a taste of actual Heaven. The boisterous growled demands of your famished belly again foul the romantic ambiance; you can’t help but cast him a glance coiled in unspoken anxiety of apology.

“That’s starting to sound pretty serious, perhaps we should eat.” Blues chuckling in creased amusement at your corporally insistent hunger, tender touch gliding to the divot dipped apex just above where your low back blooms into the roundness of a denim-supported bottom, he urges you, warmly brushing the sliver of skin exposed between your shirt and waist, to spin and shuffle off to the waiting blanket.

Moving the picnic basket into reach as you both sit, it’s he who wants to apologize for the humble pair of parchment and ribbon wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tucked therein; two, stuffed with potato chips – a Winchester family secret passed down from his dad Dean taught him to add crunchy texture and salt to cut the soggy amalgamation of sticky bread - to avert the awkwardness of asking you to eat alone.

“You made these?” you ask, watching glittery-eyed as he unpacks the picnic contents.

“Yes-” he admits, passing you one on a plate- “but they’re just PB&J.”

Just PB&J; for all the defeat damping his tone, he may as well have told you they were just his heart on his sleeve waiting to be trounced. “Thank you.” You pluck at the neatly tied bow on top to free what to you, because it was made especially for you by his hands and the best he has to offer when it comes to cooking, is an absolute feast.

“They’re perfect.” You lay a palm to his knee and squeeze until he trains his attention from popping the cork on the bottle of bubbly he hopes makes up for, or at least numbs your notice, of his lack of culinary acumen, to your glossy gaze. “Everything is perfect, Cas.”

That reassurance relaxes the tenseness casting shadows onto his confidence and his countenance enough to soothe a smile back into the camber of his mouth. “I’m glad. Very glad you said ‘Yes’ even though I wasn’t clear about this being a date.”

“Nevermind that-” you tease, echoing his earlier words- “I was always going to say ‘Yes.’”

His smile broadens; distracted by you and the joy expanding outward from the center of his being with every beat of his vessel’s heart in your presence, and never having poured champagne to gain an understanding of the rapid expansion of its effervescence, he overfills both flutes.

Giggling, you eagerly accept the brimming glass and clink it against the one held in his alcohol-wetted fingertips. “To us,” you toast.

“To us,” he repeats; a heaviness of emotion deepens his voice almost to a whisper. His eyes follow as you bring the champagne to your beaming lips to sip.

It’s not the first time - nor will it be the last time tonight, as you nestle nearer and nearer beneath the lights and stars in the cooling midnight air chatting about nothing and everything and sometimes saying naught at all and simply enjoying the sensation of being together - that the sea blue swirl of his longing gaze kisses the sweet pout of your lips, wondering at the signs – sentiments quietly spoken and movements molded by emotion - of love and acceptance surrendering themselves there to him.

And yet, perhaps his history of failures proving paralytic in affront to the proofs of your affection, Dean’s magnanimously donated mouthwash moreover not providing the minty liquid courage he needed, he hesitates to close the distance to claim a heart already his.

Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @dont-trust-humanity @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @xdifsx @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @gray-avidan @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @hisnameisboobear @kristendanwayne @fuschiarulerinthebluebox @coolpencilpie @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @passionghost @ladyofletters67 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @lilulo-12 @x-cassiopeia @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jaylarkson @missjenniferb @jessiekay2010

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #cas x reader #castielxreader #castiel #castiel imagine #reader x castiel #you x castiel #cas x you #castiel reader insert #spn x reader #castiel fluff #cricket writes cas

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yoon-kooks · 7 years

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Coffee for Two

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi’s love for coffee was no secret, and neither was your love for him.

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: “I’m gonna hold my breath until you say you love me.” (request by anon)

8:57PM Mean Yoongi “are you free on saturday?”

You had been staring at your phone screen for at least an hour, trying to decide whether the boy was asking you out on a date or if he had other evil intentions. The two of you could be considered friends, but lately you noticed he had been acting differently around you. For instance, rather than taking a nap during lunch, he’d help you with your last-minute homework—only after calling you an idiot for procrastinating, of course. He’d also do little things like send you low-quality memes of Jungkook and your other friends. The boy never failed to make you smile. And you weren’t quite sure what the reason was for him suddenly changing his habits around you. But it probably had to do with the fact that you told Taehyung a secret about your teeny-tiny crush on Yoongi.

10:09PM Y/N “maybe”

10:10PM Y/N “why”

10:12PM Mean Yoongi “bc theres gonna be buy one get one free coffee”

10:13PM Y/N “but i dont drink coffee”

10:15PM Mean Yoongi “thats the point”

10:16PM Mean Yoongi “come with me so i can get 2 large americanos without looking weird👍”

10:17PM Y/N “whats in it for me???”

10:25PM Mean Yoongi “you get to go on a coffee date with me”

You froze. To be honest, a date with Yoongi was something you thought of more often than not. But it wouldn’t really a date. If you agreed to go, you’d only be playing into that boy’s hands just so he could get his caffeine fix. And you weren’t about to give him any hints that you liked him.

10:28PM Y/N “lol a date with you 😂😂😂🙌”

10:29PM Y/N “nope nope nooope i will not”

10:30PM Mean Yoongi “really? thats so funny”

10:32PM Mean Yoongi “bc i heard you had a C R U S H on me”

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the Yoongi’s text. He knew.

10:35PM Y/N “tell tae to watch his back 😡😡😡”

10:36PM Mean Yoongi “lol sure. but you still have to come get coffee with me”

You were pissed that Taehyung had exposed your feelings, but at the same time, maybe this was your chance. Yoongi was already aware of your feelings for him, so at the very least you wouldn’t have to confess to him. The scariest part was already done and over with.

10:40PM Y/N “fine but youre buying me lunch”

As the week went by and Saturday approached, you felt more and more nervous and self-conscious. What if Yoongi was just using your feelings to get what he wanted? What if coffee was more important to him than you were? What if he was only asking you out so he could reject you in person?

You sighed as you got yourself ready for the ‘date’. You spent about half an hour debating on whether you should put together a pretty outfit, or just not give a shit about what you looked like. Yoongi probably wouldn’t notice anyway. But what if he thought you were cute…? You let out a loud groan. Being in love with your friend was driving you crazy. Sure Yoongi knew how you felt about him, but you still had no clue how he felt about you.

A black car pulled into your driveway, right on time. Yoongi looked up at your window from the driver’s seat and waved. You took a deep breath and walked down the stairs to meet him.

The first thing you noticed as you opened the car door was a sweet vanilla scent. Usually he was covered with an aroma of freshly-brewed java, but it was nice to breath in his cologne for once. And the dark circles under his eyes were no joke either. The boy needed his caffeine.

Yoongi eyed you up and down as you hopped into his car and buckled your seatbelt. “You look cute,” he said, backing out of your drive way and heading in the direction of his favorite coffee shop. You mumbled a thank you, almost inaudible in case the boy didn’t really mean what he said.

The coffee shop was relatively far from your house, and part of you was dreading the long drive because you knew how grumpy Yoongi would be until he had his dose of coffee. He would always vent to you about his roommates, exams, work, or whatever. And you’d just sit there and listen, knowing that what he needed wasn’t advice but rather someone to hear him out. But to your surprise, he was in a pretty good mood. He turned up the radio and hummed along, and went on and on about how wonderful Americanos were.

By the time you entered the coffee shop, you still didn’t understand how an Americano was any different from regular coffee, but you weren’t about to tell that to Yoongi. You loved seeing him so happy and excited, even if it was only over coffee and not you.

Yoongi had you order whatever food you wanted first. You felt out of place buying plain water rather than coffee or tea, but it would have to do. “And two iced Americanos for this guy.” You pointed at the boy next to you and smiled innocently. He narrowed his eyes at you and pushed you along to a table for two.

After your order came, you stared at Yoongi’s two huge cups of coffee and chuckled when his face brightened from a single sip. It was almost as if the caffeine had magically cleared his skin of any dark circles. He was glowing.

He set down his cup and nodded in satisfaction when he noticed your stare on him. “Wanna try it?” He held out his precious Americano for you to taste. You already knew you weren’t the biggest fan of coffee, but you also weren’t going to say no to the boy.

You took a small sip, but as soon as the coffee hit your tongue, you made a face and almost choked. It was more bitter than you ever remembered coffee being. And then you remembered Yoongi didn’t like anything too sweet.

He laughed at you as you downed your bottle of water to remove the bitter taste on your tongue. You paused to glare at the boy before finishing the rest of your water.

“Here.” He slid you a few packets of sugar. “Try adding these before you decide you hate it.”

You took a packet and shook it gently. “But you don’t like sweet things.”

“It’s fine. You can have the whole drink if you like it.”

“But-”

“It’s really fine, Y/N.” He took the lid off the cup and dumped a ton of sugar into the coffee. After securing the lid back in place, he slid the drink back over for you to taste.

“Thanks, I guess.” You angled the straw into your mouth again, with caution this time. You kept your eyes shut as the beverage worked its way up the straw, and when it finally hit your tongue, your eyes shot open. It was a thousand times better than your first try. So you took another sip as your face brightened. You were enlightened.

“Is it good?” Yoongi chuckled as the coffee was quickly being drained from your cup.

“Not bad.” You licked your lips and nodded.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Yoongi gave himself a pat on the back, proud to have converted you from coffee hater to coffee rookie. Maybe someday he’d even promote you to coffee enthusiast like himself.

“Thanks for bringing me here.” You hid your blushing face behind your cup. “Were you actually planning on drinking two of these though?”

“Of course not. One was for you.” For you. Your heart jumped at the sound of those words. “And there’s no point in trying to hide behind a clear cup, silly. I already know your feelings, remember?”

“Thanks for reminding me, meanie.” You crossed your arms and puffed up your cheeks.

“So you really do like me then?” He raised his eyebrows. You weren’t sure if he was just teasing or if he was genuinely curious. “Taehyung wasn’t lying?”

“What do you think?” Your cheeks were burning.

Yoongi took a moment to study your face for clues, but the blush was a dead giveaway. “I think you like me. Am I wrong?”

You took a sip of your coffee and didn’t respond. Or rather, you didn’t know how to respond. You thought Taehyung and your red face was enough evidence. You thought you could avoid having to confess. But it was as if Yoongi wanted to actually hear how you felt about him.

“Ah, I’m right, huh.”

No response. All you had to do was say yes, but for some reason, that felt like the most difficult task in the world.

“So stubborn…” He shook his head at you and took a long sip of his drink. You almost thought he gave up until he opened his mouth again with a new idea. “I’m gonna hold my breath until you say you love me.”

Before you could shove the boy for challenging you to such a childish thing, he already had his cheeks puffed up with air. Of course, you knew he wasn’t actually holding his breath. But he did look super cute.

So you just let him hold the position and stared at his squishy face for a good two minutes. “I know your breathing through your nose,” you finally said.

After being exposed, he deflated his cheeks and instead gave you his infamous pouty lips. You’d never ever admit it, but his pout was your greatest weakness.

But that got you thinking. Why was Yoongi trying so hard to get you to say you loved him? Did he have a crush on you as well? Because if that were the case, you’d gladly confess to the boy. But the thought of uncertainty scared you.

“Well what about you?” You turned the question to him. “How do you feel about me?”

“I like you,” he answered immediately.

You waited a moment for him to say something more. He had to be joking. “I meant romantically.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “I like you, Y/N.”

You blinked with your jaw dropped. Min Yoongi, the boy you had the biggest crush on, really just said he liked you. Your head was spinning, and you weren’t sure if it was because you and Yoongi shared the same feelings, or because you had overdosed on caffeine.

“You like me more than Americanos?” It might’ve sounded silly, but it was a genuine question. You knew how much that boy loved his Americanos, and how he needed them practically every day to function. If he could really say he liked you more than that, you’d believe he truly meant it.

Yoongi stroked his imaginary beard, pretending to be deep in thought. Just when you were about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, he answered. “Yes, I like you more than Americanos.” He gave you a nice gummy smile and touched behind his ear, a cute little habit he did when he was embarrassed. “Although it was a pretty tough decision.”

You tried to look annoyed by his last comment, but a smile quickly slipped, unable to suppress your feelings any longer. “I like you too, Yoongi,” you said softly.

“Took you long enough.” He ruffled your hair around before getting up and extending his hand out to you. “C’mon let’s go.”

You grabbed your drink and took the boy’s hand, still unable to stop smiling as the two of you walked back to his car.

But before you could open the door, you felt a gentle push with your back pressed against the car. Yoongi looked into your widened eyes before leaning in for a kiss. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it’d be like to kiss him before. You had always assumed it’d be bitter, with the aftertaste of coffee. But thankfully, his lips were sweeter than sugar. And in that moment, you realized you never had anything to worry about in the first place. Because Yoongi was the sweetest boy.

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