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accioxreparo · 4 years

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surprises | f.w.

synopsis: After being gone for a few years you and Fred show up at the Burrow for Halloween with a surprise no one expected.

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

warnings: none except its unedited

a/n: hi I’m in love with dad!Fred and I thought this would be cute. And yes, their costumes are all inspired by The Greatest Showman cause I rewatched it the other day. Also it’s not my best writing and its a little rushed but I hope you guys still like it. One more fall prompt coming tomorrow for my dia de muertos inspired fic before we move on to winter!

“This is all your fault.”

“Is not.”

“Is too,” You set down the change of clothes you were in the process of transfiguring and turned to glare at Fred who looked much more at ease than you were. “If you hadn’t insisted on showing her that movie the day would have passed by like nothing.”

“How’d you expect me to say no when she was looking at me with those big eyes of hers?” Fred moved to stand behind the place where you were sitting. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

An amused smile cracked through your otherwise stern expression and immediately Fred knew he had you. But you still shook your head as he jumped over the couch, landing beside you with a soft thud. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

He hummed, not bothering to argue at all because he knew you were right. “You both do.”

“Good answer,” You nodded as you put down your wand and the now shiny red coat. “Where do you plan on taking Evie trick or treating exactly? You’ve never been and we’ve only just moved back.”

“Don’t you worry, my darling,” The smile on Fred’s face, the same plotting, mischievous one you’d fallen in love with long ago, did little to reassure you now. “I’ve got just the thing.”

You weren’t too sure what you’d been expecting but finding the photos removed from all your albums laying out all over the counters of your kitchen the next morning was not it at all.

“Alright sweetheart,” Fred laughed a bit at the look on your face before showing Evie another picture. “What about your Uncle Georgie, what do we think he should be?”

Your eyes trained on your daughter as she stood on her chair and searched a different set of pictures. Her face was scrunched up in concentration and you couldn’t help but notice how strikingly similar she looked to Fred, who was wearing the exact same expression.

A warmth filled your whole being as you watched the two of them looking at the photos. Photos of your family that Evie had yet to meet. Time had simply gotten away from you during the last few years. Now that Fred had taken the liberty of hiring a manager for the New York location of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes you were back home.

“This one!” The sudden exclamation caught your attention and as she pointed towards a picture in one of her books.

“A monkey!” Fred laughed and picked her up from her seat making her giggle. “You are just brilliant, princess. Why don’t you go tell your mum what you picked out for her?”

You caught Evie as she ran for you, lifting her up with ease and setting her on your hip. “Mummy you have to wear the purple dress daddy got you. He says it’s the only one.”

Almost immediately you knew exactly which one she was talking about. One made of silk that was much too short to wear out on any other occasion. When you turned to look at Fred he’d placed a hand over his mouth in a weak attempt to keep from laughing.

“Did he now?”

“He did,” Evie nodded rapidly and you laughed as her hair shook all around her. “There’s a surprise too but we have to put on our costumes first.”

“Well why don’t you go start and I’ll help you in a minute, okay sweetheart?” The moment you put her down she ran for her room and you made your way to Fred and all the pictures he’d stacked on top of each other once more. “And just what is your surprise?”

He only beamed at you, tapping the edge of the pictures once on the counter before pocketing them. “We, my darling, are taking her to the Burrow.”

You stared at him for a moment before realizing that he was completely serious and crossing your arms in front of you. “Fred Weasley you cannot show up unannounced to your mothers with a little girl she has yet to know about, are you trying to give her a heart attack?”

“Technically I have been announced,” Fred stood and pulled you into him, hands resting on your waist. “I owled everybody last night and told them to be there by one to help me get everything ready.”

“Did you tell them why?”

“Of course not, it’s called a surprise for a reason, love.” Fred only chuckled and kissed you once. The action was quickly cut off by Evie shouting for you from her room. You sighed a bit before stepping out of his hold. “Stay here until I come get you two okay? And don’t forget that dress of yours.”

“The only reason I’m putting it on is for Evie.” You smirked a bit, already starting to move backwards.

“Oh of course, love,” Fred nodded before matching your smirk. “And if she just so happens to want to sleepover at her grandma’s tonight then that is completely a coincidence and we might as well take advantage of that outfit of yours.”

You laughed then turning around before he could say anything else. “Just go.”

“Hey mum,” Fred was beaming the moment he stepped into the Burrow once again. Almost instantly Molly wrapped him into a tight hug. She quickly went on a slight tangent about how long it’d been she’d seen him as he greeted Arthur.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked as she finally moved to glance behind him to see if she could spot you.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Fred didn’t miss the way his mum’s eyes narrowed at him in suspicion.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Fred chuckled before reaching for the last of the photos he’d brought along with him. Molly only watched as he smiled at it before handing it over to her. “Nothing bad anyway. Something really good actually, look.”

Molly stared at him for a moment more before looking down at the picture in her hands. A gasp escaped her when she saw three people smiling up at her in the moving photograph. There was Fred who was pulling you into his side, you in the middle of laughing at something, and a little girl waving at the camera.

A little girl who was practically a carbon copy of you but with Fred’s eyes and freckles. The picture couldn’t possibly have been that old considering the fact that he looked almost the same. Nonetheless, it was the absolute last thing Molly had been expecting when she heard the two of you had moved back.

“What is it?” Arthur’s attention was caught again as he moved to see what the commotion was about. When he saw the picture he only smiled, taking it to look at it a bit closer. “Is that -”

“Fred Weasley, are you really telling us we have a granddaughter you didn’t tell us about?” His mum had set one hand on the back of a chair with the other on her waist and suddenly he felt like he was a teenager getting scolded again. The action hadn’t stopped him from laughing then and it certainly didn’t stop him now. Not when he could see the excited look quickly breaking across her face.

“Surprise?” Before Fred knew it he was being pulled down into another embrace again. He supposed it was a good thing the three of them were the only ones in the kitchen given the flurry of questions his mum and dad alone asked him. “Evangeline Molly Weasley. Hope you don’t mind, mum.”

“Of course not,” Molly shook her head, reaching up to stop the happy tears from falling down her face.

“How old is she?” Arthur asked, looking at the picture once more with just as bright a grin.

“Three, almost four though. Her birthdays in two weeks so it’s perfect timing really,” Fred gave a shrug when they stared at him surprised. “Please don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t a secret on purpose, I promise.”

“You didn’t think to maybe mention the fact that you had a daughter in one of your letters?”

“I would’ve but I kept forgetting,” Fred quickly continued when the two of them started speaking over each other to scold him again. “We didn’t not tell anybody! George has come to see Evie loads of times now, I just assumed he’d tell you.”

“Don’t try to turn this on your brother,” Molly shook her head again and gave an almost exasperated sigh. “My first grandchild and you don’t even tell me. Didn’t even bring her over for a visit.”

“It’s great to see you too, mum,” He couldn’t help but instinctively duck out of the way and chuckle again when she swatted a dish towel at him. “That’s actually why I sent everyone else off to get the house ready. Evie wanted to go trick or treating and I figured what better place to bring her than here. She’s getting ready with Y/N now.”

Almost on cue there was a chorus of shouting as the door that led into the backyard opened. Fred flipped the picture of himself, you, and Evie upside down on the table, quietly muttering surprise when he saw the look his mum gave him again.

“Hang on, this list isn’t fair!” Ron shook his head as he took said list out of Harry’s hands. “Why do I have to be the elephant and he gets the lion?”

“Forget that,” Harry snatched the list back and pointed at a line scribbled near the bottom. “This says Charlie is supposed to be helping me hang up the decorations but he disappeared like twenty minutes ago. Do you know how long it’s going to take me to put up everything you brought with you?”

“Charlie had to go see a friend about creatures to borrow,” Fred answered easily before motioning towards Ron. “Tell him to help.”

“No! I’m supposed to be putting extension charms on the shed. Why don’t you make Ginny help all she’s doing is getting the bags of candy ready!”

“Excuse you,” Ginny popped her head through the window to glare at Ron. “Do you know how complicated he made this? It’s going to take me hours!”

“Hours won’t do,” Fred glanced at the clock on the wall, the one that actually told time, and frowned. He’d been gone for an hour now and he knew that Evie would start getting restless soon. “We have about two hours at most.”

“What!” Came shouted from all three of them at once before they started yelling over each other. To Fred’s delight though, Molly was the one who shushed them that time.

“That’s enough! Now all of you get to it.” Molly waited until the three of them had gone once more before taking the picture back and tucking it into her pocket. To Fred’s surprise she turned to smile at him, placing a hand on his cheek before moving to look at the list Ron and Harry had left behind. “Now let’s get this done. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can bring my granddaughter and Y/N over.”

There it was. Fred only laughed once more before agreeing and walking into the backyard beside the two of them.

Exactly two hours later Fred was walking up to the Burrow again. He spun around quickly to pick up Evie before she saw all the decorations that were now hung up all over the place. You understood the look he gave you right away and moved to block the rest of her line of sight.

Fred lifted her up with complete ease and smiled when he saw the pout on her face. “I need you to close your eyes for me until I say so alright, princess?”

“But -”

“No buts, sweetheart,” You interrupted when she tried turning her head. She gave you a heavy sigh before placing a hand over her eyes. “There you go. I promise you’re going to love your surprise.”

You could hear Ron and Harry before you saw them. Their voices rang across the front yard as they argued and it wasn’t until they noticed the three of you that they stopped. A laugh bubbled up from inside of you at the sight of their jaws dropping and eyes going wide.

To your amusement, they were too shocked to give anything away as Fred set Evie down and covered her ears, making sure her eyes were still closed. “Go get everyone else will you?”

“That’s a child.” Harry was the first one to break out of his trance, looking quickly between Evie, you, and Fred.

“Good eye.”

“Bloody hell, she is not yours.” Ron shook his head, a faint smile spreading across his face as he resisted the urge to walk towards the three of you.

Fred, meanwhile, grinned proudly and gave a firm nod. “She is indeed.”

“Mum! Dad!”

From inside the house you could hear Molly shouting at everyone to take their assigned places. Not thinking of anything else you gravitated towards the house that had become your own over the years with your excitement ready to spill over.

The moment Molly saw you she pulled you in for a tight hug, Arthur appearing in the doorway soon after and doing the same. They looked at you after briefly looking at Fred who’s now talking to Evie, still holding her so she couldn’t see the decorations yet. “We are so proud of the two of you.”

“Thank you,” You really couldn’t help the way your whole body relaxed along with the overwhelming feeling of finally being home again. Of course the last few years with Fred and Evie were amazing and you’d adored every moment. But being there at the Burrow again, with everybody else you held dear, was a feeling you always knew you missed. “Come and meet her.”

You pulled them along and Fred looked at the three of you, eyes sparkling with this look of pure happiness. He finally let go of Evie and she didn’t hesitate before shooting around to face you. Her head tipped to the side curiously before an excited smile broke across her face.

“I know them!” She shouted, looking up at Fred and then at you. Finally her eyes landed on Molly and Arthur and she jumped up and down a couple times. “That’s grandma and grandpa.”

“Sure is,” You smiled and held your hand out to her, one she took with ease. “Come say hi, sweetheart.”

Evie took to them immediately, happily answering every question they asked her and telling them everything she’d heard from you and Fred. She easily grabbed hold of both their hands as they led her towards the front door and pointing out all the decorations, ones Fred had made sure they knew she loved.

Bill was the one to answer the door when she finally knocked and he didn’t quite know what to say at first. He stuttered a bit as he glanced back at you and Fred before he shook his head and ducked down to Evie’s level with a surprised laugh.

“My costume sure makes a lot more sense now,” Bill looked down at the striped cut off shirt Fred had thrown at him earlier before smiling at the little girl he’d yet to meet. “And who might you be?”

“Evie.” She stood a little straighter, fixing her coat and the hat on top of her head, then smiled at him. “My daddy told me who you were already.”

“He did?”

“Yeah.” She nodded eagerly, already having forgotten the bag in her hands. It’s wasn’t until Bill handed her a chocolate frog box that she even remembered she was there to trick or treat. He really couldn’t help but give in when she asked if he wanted to join them.

Evie, however, quickly left all of you behind when she saw little creatures she didn’t recognize flying over her head the moment she stepped into the backyard. Only moments later she caught sight of George and excitedly ran for him.

Charlie, who’d been standing beside him, stared for a moment as George picked her up so she could almost reach the little creatures. He was surprised when Evie then turned to him to ask about the tiny little dragon crawling across his shoulders, and took a second to process the fact that this little girl who already knew him was apparently his niece.

It was only when Fred walked over that he shook himself out of his trance and smiled, picking up the little dragon and letting it crawl across his hand and onto hers.

The same sort of scene followed everywhere they went. Evie knew each of them by name already and she didn’t hesitate to let them know. Each one of them had reacted similarly, conversing with Evie until she moved on to the next scene before moving towards you and Fred with surprise.

Though they each silently figured that they shouldn’t have been. The entire course of yours and Fred’s relationship had been filled with surprises and it only made sense that this would be your biggest one yet.

It was late by the time you finally made your way to Fred again after being pulled in every direction.

Golden hues surrounded the entire backyard as the sun started setting below the horizon. Everybody had long since surrounded Evie, more than happy to keep her entertained. At the moment she sat beside Arthur who was helping her carve one of the magically grown pumpkins they had picked together from the garden.

Meanwhile you and Fred were picking through her bag of sweets, silently hoping she wouldn’t notice how many you’d eaten already. You let out a content sigh as you leaned your head on Fred’s shoulder, “Why did we wait so long to do this?”

“I really don’t know,” He answered as he rested his head on yours, taking one of your hands with his free one. “Did you miss all of this as much as I did?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hey,” There was only a brief moment of silence before Fred suddenly turned to you with a new idea and another smirk on his face. “What are the odds we can escape for a bit now that we’ve got people to watch her for us?”

“You really have a one track mind don’t you?” You shook your head, watching as he stood up and offered you his hand.

To Fred’s delight though, you took it. He glanced behind him to make sure everyone else was otherwise occupied before winking and pulling you inside the house. “Only for you my darling.”

#ahh again i have no idea what this ending is but here we are #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #dad!fred #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter fic #hp fanfic #hp fic #hp imagine #HP series #my fics #surprises

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cotccotc · 3 years

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genre/s: felix x barista!reader (gender neutral), fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers au, bakery / barista au (feat. baker / bff!minho, (strict) manager!chan, barista!jeongin, and baker!seungmin)

wc: 6.9k 😎

warnings: many mentions of food (specifically sweets such as cupcakes, brownies, cookies, etc.), some swearing, arguing, probably very poor editing oops <3

a/n: this is part of the @districtninewriters “dear skz, with love” event :D THIS IS ALSO THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN AHHH i’m really really proud of it !!! i hope u love it besties !!!!!!!!

it was a frostbitten february evening when you met the boy at the bakery.

you were seated upon the counter, back turned to the deep brown door through which you’d first entered months ago, eager to apply for a barista position. minho sat across from you on the cashier stool. he was always better with the baked goods. you were a great team. the two of you were bored; a familiar feeling that accompanied weeknights at the bakery-cafe. people tended to arrive either in the morning time or late in the afternoon, and very seldom later. plus, your manager trusted the two of you enough to lock up on your own. and so, the two of you would be left to your own devices for a few measly hours a night per week.

“i bet you couldn’t make a batch of sugar biscuits without instructions,” he teased with a snarky grin. he was right. that was more his thing than yours.

so, you retaliated. “i bet you can’t do the same with a mocha frappe. or even simpler: an iced americano.”

“please!”

“oh yeah? step right up, biscuit boy,” you retorted with a giggle, gesturing to the coffee maker that sat beside him. there were multiple in the shop, and truth be told, he had no idea which was used for what types of beverages.

confidently, he grabbed a cup from the stack on the table behind him, striding over to one of the machines. he then took a look at all the knobs and buttons, clearing his throat. you chuckled. with his finger ghosting over one of the buttons, he turned back toward you to check for your reaction. “not even close,” you remarked. he clicked his tongue, turning back toward the coffee maker. “just a hint,” you added, “the first step isn’t coffee.”

he simply looked up, bewildered. he turned back toward you, dropping his hands to his sides and parting his lips into a circular expression of disbelief.

suddenly, the sparkling tone of the door chime behind you caught both of your attention. peculiar. nobody was usually around at that hour. as minho put his cup back on the table, you hopped off the counter, turning toward the front of the store.

in walked one of the most strikingly handsome boys you think you’ve ever seen. if not the most handsome. an angular face; fair, slightly pink-tinted skin decorated with the most endearing assortment of freckles. they were almost reminiscent of the chocolate sprinkles minho used to top off the cupcakes situated inside the glass counter case. his hair was a vanilla blond and long enough to delicately cascade over the side edges of his face. cherry red lips that parted upon his arrival, chocolatey brown eyes staring right back at yours. he was astonishing.

“how can we help you?” minho asked him, stepping forward. he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes seemed to be bugging out of your head. he had to stifle a chuckle or two.

the boy’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment. or maybe you dreamed it that way. regardless, he walked up to the counter, inquisitively placing his hands behind his back and bent over to glance at the contents of the case. “hi! uh…” he seemed sweet, though his voice was much deeper than you’d expected. it was unique. he was unique. and in quite a rush, as well. “...shit,” he cursed under his breath. he seemed to have startled himself with his expression. he looked back up at you, then at minho, a tight-lipped smile and strawberry-pink blush appearing on his face. “sorry,” he said.

minho finally let out a chuckle. “no worries. what’re you looking for?” he was always so good with the customers. smooth yet considerate, witty, yet firm. you always aspired to be a little more like minho when it came to customer service.

“do you have any of the salted caramel cupcakes left? they seem to be gone.”

“ah, we seem to have run out of those. could i interest you in a peanut butter cupcake instead?”

the boy shook his head. “no… she likes caramel.”

she. there was a she.

“may i ask what the occasion is?” minho asked.

“it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’ll be home from work soon... hopefully. i would’ve made my own gift to her but i didn’t have the time…”

“enough said,” your coworker assured him. “does she like chocolate? we have a few salted caramel brownies in the back.”

he almost gasped. “that’s perfect!” he paused. “um… how much is that? i-is it more than the cupcake, or…?”

minho glanced through the glass at the tag beside the brownie tray. “nope. less, actually.”

the boy let out a short sigh of relief. “great. thanks so much.”

“ah, it’s nothing. one sec,” minho said before walking into the kitchen to grab the brownie from the fridge. an awkward silence ensued between you and the boy.

“a name for the order?” you blurted. dumbass, you thought to yourself.

“i’m… the only one in the store…” he replied.

heat rose to your cheeks. “i… um… it’s protocol-”

“felix.” he cut you off before you could embarrass yourself further. he could tell you were nervous.

a unique name as well. of course.

“coming right up, felix,” you murmured, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. both of you chuckled.

minho came back out to the counter holding a small blue box with the cafe logo on top. “you’re all set! that’ll be…” he pressed few buttons into the cash register before continuing. “ten thousand won.”

“perfect.” felix grabbed his wallet out of his coat pocket. he pulled out a few bills from the black leather case, handing them to minho with a small smile. he was excited to surprise his mother, and happy that it wouldn’t cost as much as he’d thought it would. and you found it adorable.

minho took the money, ringing felix up and inserting the bills into the register. he handed felix the box, which made the boy’s face light up even more. it was hard for you to suppress a similar countenance. “i hope she likes it. have a good night!” minho said, closing the register. he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter as felix waved to the both of you and began walking back toward the door.

“thanks so much. you too,” he said, giving minho a small bow.

with his hand on the door, he glanced back at you once more. you smiled. he returned the expression. and just like that, with a brief gust of cold air sweeping through the shop, the boy was gone.

“you, uh… you know we only take names when there’s a line, right?” minho teased as the door shut, the chime letting out what seemed to be a pitied laugh.

you held your hands up to your forehead. “ugh, i know! i’m such an idiot,” you replied, letting your nerves go with a chuckle. he patted you on the shoulder, laughing with you.

in between laughs, he remarked, “he really made you that nervous, huh?”

“you could tell?! oh, great… wonderful!”

the two of you carried on for a moment, making light of the otherwise mortifying exchange. but finally, minho glanced at the clock and asked, “would you mind locking up tonight? i’ve got a date.”

“ooh!” you cooed, taunting him. “a date... who’s the not-so-lucky lady?”

“what joke book did you get that one from, hm? i had no idea you even knew how to read!” you gave him a playful punch in the arm for his sarcastic dig, causing him to giggle. yet, he answered your question, saying, “it’s a girl i met on the train home from school the other night. chaeyoung.” he looked off to the side, seemingly entranced. “she’s really witty and smart… and gorgeous. like... gorgeous.”

“ah, yes… so gorgeous that it causes men to leave their posts… and friends…”

“if i bring you back some takeout, will you quit being an ass?”

you pondered the question for a moment. and, while you’d be bored as hell in his absence, closing up the shop wasn’t much of a hassle on weeknights… and, well, you could always go for a free meal. “...pleasure doing business with you, lee minho.”

“thank you. as with you,” he commented in return. he took off the periwinkle blue, involuntarily worn apron which you’ve both been made to wear, revealing what you hadn’t even noticed was a dressy outfit. well, dressier than usual. he’d opted for a pale blue button-up shirt, tucked into black skinny jeans, all tied together by a chic black belt and a pair of black loafers. not to mention the small silver hoop earrings and matching necklace. you had to admit, he did look dapper.

he quickly strode to the back of the kitchen at which there resided a small storage room where you and the other employees usually dropped off your belongings. he grabbed his backpack and put on his long black coat, quickly making his way back up to the counter and walking around to the front of the store. “catch you tomorrow! thanks again.”

“takeout! don’t forget!”

“i couldn’t even if i tried,” he retorted, opening the door. the two of you waved to each other before he took his leave.

moments later, the door opened once again. you figured minho must’ve forgotten something. looking up, you began to ask, “what’d you forget this ti-”

it wasn’t minho.

it was felix.

he paused in his footing, little blue box still in hand. you jumped just a little. he noticed. “s-sorry… i just, um…” he looked off to the side. “i guess this is a bit of a long shot... considering the two of you seem to be more than enough staff… but…” he paused again, taking a moment to straighten his posture and scratch the back of his head. “is there any chance you might be hiring… any time soon?”

the answer was no. undoubtedly. he was right in thinking that you, minho, and the other employees were perfectly capable of handling the cafe. though some mornings and weekends were a bit tight, the team made it work. if this was anybody else, you could’ve easily said no.

yet, he persisted. “i can bake! i like to think i’ve been getting better at it… and i can clean as well.”

you couldn’t turn him down. you simply couldn’t. not with those kind eyes locking themselves with yours, the enthusiasm in his deep voice, or the hastening beat of your heart. “i’ll talk to my manager!” you affirmed. you smiled, causing a similar reaction out of him. an idea popped into your mind. if only for a moment, you thought it was the best you’d ever had. your eyes averted themselves to the pale yellow note pad and ballpoint pen on the counter, used to take orders from seated customers. “here,” you said, reaching for the pen and paper and handing it to felix. “if you’ll give me your number, i can text you with any updates.”

he walked back up to the counter for the second time that night, taking his number down on the pad. as you watched him intently, eyes fixated on his concentrated face, you silently praised yourself for being so brave. especially after the whole name debacle. your heart was at its wits’ end. “there,” he said, placing the pen down on the counter and sliding the notepad back to you. “i really appreciate it.” he sounded so genuine. he flashed you another smile. he had such a grand, bright, toothy smile. it would stay in your memory for days, weeks, even months to come. you can still recall it now.

“it’s no problem,” you responded. “...i really hope your mom likes the brownie.”

“thanks. i’m sure she will.” he turned to walk toward the door. you almost turned away as well, excited to examine the style with which he’d written on the pad, until he spun back around once more. “oh! one more thing… can i get your name as well?”

the question came as a bit of a surprise. you nodded to him, letting out a short giggle. “y/n.”

he grinned again. it was smaller that time; a bit more subdued. effortfully so. “ah. well…” he began walking backward, eyes connected with yours as he headed toward the door. “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, felix.”

and thus, your pursuit for a job offering began.

your manager, chan, was reluctant to accept your proposal for him to give felix an interview. however, you made note of how eager he’d seemed that night and the skills he’d mentioned having. you also mentioned how he’d been so enthused to find out the price of his order. and so, after a couple days’ worth of mulling it over, chan finally gave in.

you weren’t supposed to be at the cafe when felix was being interviewed. however, your saturday afternoon shift had just ended, and the place was essentially empty. well… apart from you, chan, felix, and then jeongin, who wandered in from the storage room to find you eavesdropping from behind the wall separating the kitchen and the dining area.

“y/n?” he asked. “what are you-”

you inaudibly shushed him, motioning for him to come closer and hide with you. he did so.

“chan’s interviewing someone,” you whispered to the boy.

“ah…” he responded, his tone hushed. “so why are we hiding?”

“because we’re not supposed to be listening.”

“so why are we doing it?”

“because i want to know how it’s going.”

“so why can’t you just-”

you shushed him again. he obliged, covering his mouth with his hand.

from the other side of the wall, chan asked, “so felix, do you have a resume?”

“uh…” felix stammered. you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“let me put it this way,” chan offered instead. “do you have any prior working experience? at another cafe, another store, a completely different place...?”

“oh! yes. i’ve bagged groceries at the supermarket on third street for the last few months. that’s where my mom works. but i’d much rather work here, if i’m honest...”

“ah. okay.” chan nodded, jotting down some notes in his notebook. “so y/n told me you could clean...”

before chan could finish, felix proudly exclaimed, “i can! i do a lot of cleaning at home.”

“perfect.”

the interview went on for a few more minutes. jeongin let out a few silent chuckles every once in a while, mocking your state of concentration. but who could blame you? you just wanted to make sure felix got the position. he seemed to need it.

you totally weren’t in it for his smile… the freckles… the adorable creases that formed at the edges of his eyes when he grinned with that sweet, genuine, toothy grin of his… no, not at all…

nevertheless, he got the job.

“i love this apron,” felix had said to you on his first day. he was quite fond of your uniform. everyone else in the shop hated them; what, with the pale blue color, white pinstripe pattern, and the ‘one-size-fits-all’ design. yet, in every sense of the phrase, it fit felix perfectly.

“i’m glad someone does,” you replied. he laughed.

“when i got the cleaning job, i wasn’t sure i’d get to wear one. but i’m happy i do.” he smiled at you, his pearlescent teeth on full display and face aglow with joy.

after about a week of training, felix became a natural at his job. though it wasn’t much, he took great pride in his work and enjoyed taking any opportunity he saw to do a little extra sweeping, some more dish washing, and even some dusting here and there.

he also fit right into the employee dynamic. every once in a while, you’d find him playing hand games with jeongin. or, sometimes, minho would discuss baking with him, as he often noted his affinity for it.

“have you ever tried using oats in your chocolate chip cookies?” felix asked. it was monday night. and, as per usual, the shop was devoid of customers.

minho looked puzzled. “oats?”

“yeah. it adds a little nuttiness. it’s really, really good.”

“huh… i’ll have to try it out sometime. i like to add a bit of coffee grounds to the flour when i make mine.” then, he leaned in to whisper, “don’t tell chan, though.” felix let out a nervous giggle.

“don’t worry,” you said to him. “minho’s only kidding. i’d never let him touch my coffee grounds.” this made all three of you laugh.

after the laughter died down, felix looked at the clock. it was four in the afternoon. “well, my shift is over,” he said. you were disappointed. hanging out with felix had become a bit of a highlight for you. he always carried himself so kindly. he had a bubbly soul, and a pure twinkle took residence in his eye whenever he smiled. you couldn’t help but feel light and airy while around him.

“hey, i’ve been meaning to ask,” minho started to felix. “do you bike here?”

the other boy was confused. “no. why?”

“oh… then, do you walk?”

“yeah. it’s only a few blocks,” felix responded, shrugging.

“do you need a ride?”

felix paused to think. “don’t you need to stay here? to lock up and everything…”

“i’ll come right back.”

you chimed in, suggesting, “i can close tonight.”

“you sure?” minho asked you. “i don’t have any food to bribe you with this time.” you both chuckled.

“it’s fine by me,” you said.

minho thanked you, stating once again that he owed you. the amount of times you’d done this for him was countless. but you never seemed to mind. and so, off they went. you were glad felix had integrated into the friend group so well. you supposed that he was just that loveable.

when it finally came time for you to close up shop having not received any other customers for the night, you waltzed into the storage room to grab your things. however, you noticed something strange sitting atop one of the shelves that hadn’t been there that morning.

an envelope. with your name on it. and a tupperware container filled with a single slice of what looked like chocolate cake.

your heart flinched. you were shocked. flustered, flushed. confused… but endeared. you hesitated. shakily, you tore open the cream-colored envelope’s seal, careful not to rip too much. you wanted to preserve its crisp smoothness.

“y/n,” the note said...

“a gift to you,

a chocolatey treat,

a token of thanks

for being so sweet.

~ me”

your heart fluttered. you ran to the kitchen, opening the container and grabbing a freshly-cleaned fork from the metal sink. you dried it off on your apron before excitedly digging into the dessert. it was more of a brownie than a cake, you realized, with melted chocolate chunks stuffed inside. it tasted amazing.

you began wondering who this mystery gifter could’ve been. it couldn’t have been minho… it simply couldn’t have. the two of you were much too close. and he was always more confident than anybody you’d met. if he liked you, you would have already known. besides, things seemed to be going well with him and chaeyoung. no… this had to be someone else. jeongin, perhaps. he did always made such high praises about your cappuccino-crafting abilities. you looked to your left and right, peering around the kitchen for signs of life. but alas, you were all alone in the cafe.

then it hit you.

of course...

felix.

you recalled the first time you met. when you had him jot his number down on the piece of paper. you remembered his handwriting; the way some characters curled on the ends, the rounded shape of his letter e, the squiggly line he used before he signed his name… it was felix. it had to be.

and you were ecstatic.

the next day, you entered the shop to find a full house. it was a saturday morning, after all. you enjoyed the breakfast rush, mainly because you got the chance to show off your coffee-making skills. you made your way to the kitchen, greeting jeongin at the counter on your way in. you said hello to minho and seungmin as well, who were busy stand-mixing and hand-folding various types of batter. they were a great team, especially on mornings like those. though they tended to bicker about ingredients and proportions, the sweet treats they’d concoct always turned out excellently.

finally, felix emerged from the storage area, duster in hand. when he saw you, however, he froze. with his eyes wide and cheeks beginning to flush, he greeted you. “h-hi, y/n… good morning!”

you let out a bit of a giggle. does he know that i know? you asked yourself. granted, the mysterious gift giver signed off as ‘me,’ so you couldn’t say you were positive… but this reaction told you otherwise. “morning!”

he nodded, smiling nervously. he gestured to the storage room. “the shelves in there are all dusted now.”

“great! i think i’ll… um…” you pointed to the room, slipping past him to stash away your belongings and put on your apron.

“yep! you… do that…” he muttered as you walked away.

however, when you walked in, you found something peculiar displayed upon the shelf.

another envelope. and another container.

you turned back toward the door to find felix peeking in. you chuckled. “so it was you!”

he stepped to the side, coming into full view. “how’d you know?” he asked.

“i just… had a feeling.” you grinned.

he paused, a tight-lipped smile spread across his face. “well, open it.”

you placed your coat and bag on one of the shelves below. you then opened up the envelope just like you had the previous night: meticulously, yet enthralled. it read,

“another dessert

for a person so sweet

will you honor me kindly,

and go out with me?

YES / NO

~ me”

once you looked back up at him, felix commented, “you were supposed to circle one…” he then began rambling. “i thought you didn’t come in until later. you don’t have to say anything right now, or at all, and-”

though you thought it adorable, you cut off his nervous prattle, stating, “yes.”

his eyes grew even wider, his strawberry tinted lips forming a circular shape. “you mean…”

“i’ll go out with you, felix,” you confirmed.

his face lit up. and yours did, too.

thus, one date became two, two became four…

by the end of february, you were officially a couple.

you were a perfect match. each of you complimented each other so well, rivaling the bittersweetness of a good cappuccino when paired with a light and fluffy slice of cake. like minho, felix’s baking abilities and knowledge never ceased to amaze you. you explained the ins and outs of coffee brewing while he told you all about how he bakes his tasty treats. he even showed you some of the recipes his mom handed down to him from generations past.

his mom sounded so wonderful… yet, a part of you felt so sorry for her. felix’s dad left when he was young, and she’s always had to fend for herself and her son all on her own. however, when she was let go from her office position the previous year, things began to spiral. she took up two jobs: one at the local grocery store and another waitressing at a restaurant in the next town. she was always so busy. but felix understood. he tried helping out, especially by working at the supermarket with her that fall. nothing seemed to get any better.

that is, until he landed his job at the cafe.

felix constantly thanked you for helping him out. chan paid him a considerable amount more than what he’d received at the supermarket, which helped him and his mother out greatly. anything would. aside from telling how lovely, smart, witty, and gorgeous you were, felix’s mission in life was to remind you how you’d saved it.

one monday, you entered the storage room on your break to find a sight all too familiar. a handwritten note and small sliver of baked loveliness, all wrapped up in a metaphorical bow of allure and intrigue. nevertheless, however, you were still just as giddy as the first time you’d received one of felix’s treats. suddenly, you felt a finger graze along your shoulder, moving your hair to the side as an arm wrapped itself around your waist. two warm, pillowy lips made contact with your cheek, gently pecking the skin. felix.

you let out a giggle. “is this for me?” you asked, facetiously.

“of course,” he muttered beside your ear, his tone low, entrancing, and chill-inducing. he kissed your cheek again, holding you close and swaying you from side to side. “it’s another brownie. try it,” he suggested as his chin settled upon your shoulder.

you did as he said, biting into the small slice of fudgy goodness. to your surprise, chunks of melted caramel oozed out of the dessert, cutting through the rich chocolatiness of the brownie with a tangy edge. you hummed in satisfaction. “a salted caramel brownie,” you noted, swallowing your bite.

he chuckled. “i figured i’d finally try it out, maybe give some to my mom… do you like it?”

you placed the sweet back into its container and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you smiled. “i love it, lix. thank you.”

he grinned back at you. pulling you closer by the waist, he sealed the space between his lips and yours with a kiss. his lips were always even softer and more captivating than the texture of his confections. sweeter, too.

after his lips left yours, he gazed into your eyes, holding you close. “open the note, love.”

you excitedly spun back around, doing as instructed. opening the crisp white envelope seal and pulling out the folded sheet of paper, you read its contents.

“a caramel kiss

for you, my love.

i can’t give you the world.

but i hope i’m enough.

~ felix”

you paused. you were puzzled. visibly so, you figured, since when you turned around the look on felix’s face shifted.

he took your hand in his, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. he kept his head down as he spoke. “i wish i could do more. i wish i could take you out to nice places, bake you batches of your favorite sweets, get you real gifts…”

a sharp pain struck your heart. “lix…” you murmured. “i don’t need any of those things. and as far as i’m concerned, these are ‘real gifts.’ they come from your heart. that’s as real as it gets.”

“i know, love, but…”

you placed a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look back up at you. “you don’t even have to do this stuff for me. i know that you care.”

he gave you a forced, shy smile. “okay. i’m glad.” he placed his own hand on top of yours, warm fingertips pressing gently against your skin.

“felix! y/n!” chan called from the kitchen. it was saturday night, and the last of the day’s customers were taking their leave. you were standing by the coffee-makers, in the middle of telling felix about the time you’d bested jeongin in a macchiato-making contest during a breakfast rush.

both of you turned toward the kitchen door, concerned. chan poked his head out. “can you come here a minute?” he looked serious. something was wrong.

nevertheless, the two of you obliged. holding hands, you made your way to the kitchen, led by chan to the cooling racks. “what’s up?” you asked.

chan cleared his throat before shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have reason to believe that one of you, or both, has violated protocol.”

you quickly grew confused. felix’s hand tightened around yours. you glanced at him, noticing how his face flushed pale. “uh…” he stammered.

“early this morning, seungmin pointed out that we’re low on cocoa powder. now, that’s odd, especially considering we had three cans of it yesterday. now we only have two.” you both nodded at him, following along. “...so i took a look at the camera footage.”

felix let go of your hand. “c-cameras?” he stuttered. you were even more confused.

“yeah. the cameras,” chan confirmed, looking felix dead in the eye. “i watched the footage from yesterday. and the day before.”

felix gulped. “you… you did….”

“what the hell is going on?” you asked.

chan let out a bit of a sigh. “y/n. were you aware that felix has been taking ingredients from the kitchen?”

your heart dropped.

you glanced at your boyfriend. he glanced back at you. he then bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes down to the floor. you looked back at chan, calmly answering, “no… i had no idea.”

“is that true?” chan asked.

“yes.” you then turned to felix, face ablaze. “it’s true.”

“then in that case, you can go for the night. i’d like to talk to felix. alone.”

after one last unreciprocated look at your boyfriend, you quickly rummaged through the storage room, collected your things, and left. you stood outside of the cafe, waiting for whatever might happen next. your stomach was doing flips. you couldn’t possibly believe what you’d heard.

minutes elapsed. it felt more like hours. all you could think to do was lean up against a lamp post and watch the gloomy clouds shift overhead. the sun was close to being fully set, casting a deep purple tint over the whole street landscape. and it looked as though it was about to rain.

after what felt like an exorbitantly long time, felix emerged from the shop. the door closed behind him as he bolted down the steps and onto the pavement, that familiar chime sending a chill through you. it sounded almost eerie that night. out of place. taunting.

“lix,” you called. you walked behind him, despite his quickening pace. but he wouldn’t stop or slow down. “lix,” you exclaimed again. no answer. finally, you grabbed his arm, realizing his apron was gone, and shouted, “felix! slow down.”

he scoffed, stopping dead in his tracks. “he fired me.”

you stared at him, blankly. once again, you couldn’t believe it.

“i tried to do something nice, and he fired me.”

“do you think it makes me feel any better?” you asked. “you getting yourself fired so you could make me little brownie experiments?” you paused, taking a deep breath. you were outraged. more so with yourself. you should’ve asked how he was finding the time or the resources to be doing what he was doing. you should’ve known. “i thought you needed this job. when were you gonna tell me you were a thief?”

“a thief?!” felix’s eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head. he was surprised at your verbiage. he’d never seen you upset like this. “y/n, i’m not a thief.” you rolled your eyes. his cheeks flushed crimson. a prickling sensation began around his eyes. a stinging, almost. tears. he looked down at his sneakers. tattered white converse. the same ones he wore every day to work. the same ones on which he’d splattered a few droplets of brownie batter during his latest attempt at making you a gift. now, it just looked like a stain of mud. “i didn’t just take cocoa powder. i took eggs… some milk… a couple cups of flour here and there… my mom got demoted at the restaurant. she works the bar now. she thinks i asked for the stuff. so yeah, i did need this job! i do need it. i just fucked up...” under his breath, trying not to give into the tears that prodded at his eyes, he remarked, “‘little brownie experiments’... that’s all they ever were to you? little brownie experiments...”

you realized what you’d said. of course that’s not all they were to you. they were everything to you. but that isn’t what you’d said. “lix… i-”

“you know what, you’re right,” he muttered, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes rapidly blinking to avoid the inevitable. “they probably weren’t even all that good.”

you took a step closer to him. a drop of water fell onto your shoulder from above. “no.. no, that’s not what i-”

but, as quickly as you approached him, he stepped back. he locked eyes with you once again. his eyes were glossy; tainted with the aftereffects of a broken heart. suddenly, a steady stream of drizzling rain began to fall from the night sky above you. felix’s lip quivered. yet, with a furrowing brow, he continued. “you know what, maybe this was all a mistake.” his voice cracked a bit; frayed at the edges. “maybe i should’ve gotten a different job. at a place that would pay me enough to be able to buy my own shit and pay my mom’s bills.” the rain fell harder now, coating his hair and dragging it down over his face. you didn’t even feel it as it completely drenched you as well.

seeing him like this affected you just as much as your words did him. guilt. the panging, crushing weight of guilt laid heavily upon your heart. “felix…” you whimpered, tears of your own beginning to cloud your line of sight. though, you could still see clear enough to watch him shake his head, turning around and beginning his ascent up the avenue. clear as ever. even despite the pitter-patter of evening gloom.

sopping wet, you marched back into the shop. you ripped off your apron, throwing it down upon the counter. you then walked back behind it to start preparing to close up for the night. all you wanted was to go home.

that is, until you spotted an envelope tucked beside the cappuccino maker.

a creamy white envelope, with your name and a heart inscribed on the back. and a tupperware container. a single teardrop descended from the corner of your eye, resembling the droplets of rain that covered your form. you carefully took hold of the envelope. you gently tore it open, making sure not to rip it, just like you’d done the very first and subsequent times.

“another present

for my love;

my dear y/n,

sent from above.

~ felix”

a drop of rain fell from your hair onto the page, dampening his name. the black ink began to run, the letters seeping into each other.

you could no longer control your tears. you took a seat on the floor, back resting against a leg of the table upon which the coffee makers stood. the metal was cold. but you paid it no mind. with your head on your knees, legs bent and arms wrapped around them, you cried. audibly. you couldn’t believe how you’d spoken to him. you should’ve known that he didn’t have the money to bake you these little presents on his own. you should’ve realized from the moment he confirmed it was him. at least, that’s what you thought to yourself as the tears expelled themselves from your system.

he just wanted to make you something special. yes, he broke the rules. yes, he stole from the cafe. and yes, he knew it was wrong. but he just wanted to make you something special. it was the only way he believed he could. and you wish you’d seen that. not just so you could’ve prevented it, but also so you could’ve appreciated it even more. so you could’ve seen that not only was he working overtime to make you something you might enjoy, but that he was risking his job for you and his mother. it wasn’t a perfect gesture - not by a long shot. but he meant well. he always did. and you didn’t even give him the chance to explain.

you loved him.

after a few moments of solitude, you regained your breath. you sniffled, looking down at the note. you then stood back up, taking hold of the container. its contents looked delicious. but you couldn’t consume it. not even if you’d been hungry. so, you dumped it into the trashcan beside the table. and, with a deep, shaky breath, you ripped up the letter and envelope into tiny pieces. it was a bittersweet feeling, letting go. but you had to do it. and so, home you went.

a week passed. things never really changed at the cafe once felix left. weeknights were still as slow as ever. maybe even slower. you missed him.

minho emerged from the kitchen one evening to find you wiping down the cappuccino maker with a coffee-stained rag. it was the third time you’d done it that day. twice more than you were getting paid for. and of course he noticed. “how’re you holding up?” he asked.

you barely glanced up at him, busy rubbing the same spot on the metal machine over and over. this stupid stain just wouldn’t budge. each time you’d gone over it that day, you couldn’t seem to make it go away. it plagued your mind, infiltrating your subconscious when you least expected it until you finally decided to go back to it for the second time, then the third. it was a real mood killer. though your mood hadn’t been very lively when the day began, either. “‘m fine,” you replied through gritted teeth, brows angled inward as your focus remained on the task at hand.

“are you?” he questioned, playfully. he leaned on the counter behind you, crossing his arms and watching you scrub. “you’ve been going at it with that thing for hours now. what’d it ever do to y-”

“i’m fine!” you interjected. you then paused, both in speech and action. suddenly, you were aware of how fast you’d been rubbing the machine. as well as how loud your voice had raised itself. you turned around. “...sorry.”

he gave a pitied smile, crossing his arms. “it’s ok. i’m fine,” he replied, mimicking you. it made you chuckle. he was glad it did. “is, uh… is this a bad time to ask you to lock up? i’ve got a.. uh…”

“a date?” you supposed, unfeeling.

he cleared his throat, glancing between you, the clock above you, and his shoes. “yeah,” he confirmed. “with chaeyoung. would you mind?”

“not at all.”

“you sure?” you nodded. “alright… i owe you one… or ten...” he joked, untying his apron.

“no you don’t,” you murmured, eyes drifting to the side. you almost turned back around, heart set on getting to that stain, until you felt his hand on your arm. you glanced at each other for a moment. he looked sad. sorry. he pitied you. and you hated it. yet, as he took you in his arms, wrapping you into a tight, benevolent hug, you became a little less tense. a little less angry. you hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder. this was the first time you’d ever engaged in such a gesture with your coworker. sure, you were friends. and sure, you’d talked about some deep stuff on nights like these with nothing better to do. but this was different. meaningful. sweet.

after a moment, minho remarked, “you know i miss him too, right?” he sounded mockingly peeved. “he was your boyfriend but he was my friend.”

you looked up at him, confused. “you’re not still friends?”

he chuckled. “no! he’s avoiding me the same way he’s avoiding you.”

laughing with him, you responded, “shit… i’m sorry, minho.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.” he let go of you, hands remaining on your sides for a moment. “you both messed up. it’s not all your fault.” you nodded to him, a reluctant, close-lipped smile upon your face. he glanced up at the clock again before pulling his apron off. “i’ve gotta go. thanks again for locking up, y/n.” he walked past the counter to the front of the store. “i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he added, pointing at you while striding backwards toward the door.

“see you tomorrow,” you replied, waving to him. “have fun.” you still sounded a bit bitter. you couldn’t help it.

“thanks,” he said. the chimes twinkled as the door closed. it haunted you.

and with that, he was gone. nothing but you, your rag, and that unnerving coffee stain for another half-hour’s time.

you heard the opening and closing of the door behind you once again. with a sigh, not even bothering to turn around, you blurted, “we’re about to lock up for the night.”

no response. odd. maybe they didn’t hear you. you tried again, raising your voice a bit but continuing your attempts to clear up the stain all the while. “i apologize, but we’re closed for the night-”

“one salted caramel brownie, please.”

a familiar voice. a familiar, low-toned, nostalgia-inducing voice. the voice that, at one time, softened for you… close enough to your ear to make your stomach tie itself in knots. the voice that made you giggle, the voice that called you “love”... the voice that cracked when faced with the realization that it was never to be heard by you again. you spun around.

a familiar face, too.

felix.

his eyes gazed into yours. somber, silent.

“y-you...”

“hey.”

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @ncityluvvs, @vera-liscious (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

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learnfromwebtoons · 3 years

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Lesson 2: Go Beyond The Surface

Today’s Lesson: Go Beyond The Surface Today’s Teacher: The Wendybird (written by Susan Cheng and Erica Weiland)

All stories exist in three worlds: the world the story takes place in, the world it was first written in, and the world it is being told in now. Every aspect of each of these worlds informs each other and informs the plot, setting, and characters of the fictional story being told. So what happens when you don’t fully consider the implications of all three of these aspects before writing your story?

You get The Wendybird.

The Wendybird is a retelling of J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan that only looked at the surface aesthetics of the original story and changed the character designs to be more “progressive” without fully considering how that interacts with the existing themes and elements of the originals.

None of the characters in this retelling are white, but the setting appears to still be somewhere in the neighborhood of Edwardian England (and the environment design is strikingly similar to a certain animated adaptation from 1953). And yet, the specific background of the Darling family and how that affects their position in upper-class society is never engaged with.

In the original Peter Pan, Tinker Bell was so jealous of Wendy because Wendy was the first girl besides Tiger Lily she’s ever seen Peter interact with, and thus perceive as a potential romantic rival to her. If Peter is constantly surrounded by girls in his group of Lost Kids, what makes Wendy, especially this version of Wendy who wants to fight and have adventures, anything unusual? (and if Wendy now has a more conventionally feminine and attractive sister only slightly younger than her, shouldn't Jean be getting Peter's attention for being so different from the Lost Girls he’s used to?)

The Wendybird also chose to sidestep the offensive portrayal of Indigenous tribes by making Tiger Lily the leader of the Amazons, having them sail in on Viking-style ships and wear generic-looking “tribal” outfits, instead of researching and making the effort to respectfully depict a specific tribe and thinking about what the colonialist and imperialist perspective of the original story said about the time and place it was produced in.

The Wendybird uses the familiar beats and framework of the existing Peter Pan story to tell a new story about a rebellious action girl Wendy who doesn’t want to be a mother and wants to fight and play by her own rules, and in doing so discards the original Wendy’s internal conflict between the allure and terror of adulthood. While also creating a character that, at this point, has become pretty cliche in itself. It’s not progressive, it’s just a bland adventure story relying on Peter Pan’s brand recognition and #girlbossing to gain clicks.

When retelling an existing story, particularly a flawed and problematic story, it’s important to consider what the elements you perceive to be problematic say about the three worlds of the story. What does it tell you about the story’s internal world? What does it tell you about the world the author wrote this story in? What does it tell you about your own world, now? And how much of this information is interesting or useful to know?

Exercise: Pick a story you like in the public domain (fairytales allowed.) Now do some research! Who is the original author (if known, if not known when was this story first recorded and by whom?) What other variations, spinoffs, retellings and adaptations of this story exist? What aspect of the original is most often changed from version to version and how?

Now, change the setting to modern day (or any other time/place you feel knowledgeable about) and outline the characters and beats of this story. How does changing the setting affect how the story will go?

Webtoon Rec of the Day: Lavender Jack is a noir-inspired masked vigilante adventure story that does think critically about its inspirations and the full context of its fictional world, while also being stylish and beautifully drawn. It has a diverse cast of characters with well-developed personalities and explores its themes of government corruption, class, and oppression fully and thoughtfully. It’s also just a lot of fun to read.

#writing #learn from webtoons #webtoons #webtoon recommendations #webcomics #storytelling #adaptation #reboot #remakes

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 69 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). And Dartmouth420…this one’s for you! 💫

Previously: Courtney was having a rough week at work, but didn’t care about any of it when Bianca uttered three magic words, and Violet’s design was chosen as the spring runway finale look.

This Chapter: A wardrobe fitting for the spring runway collection ends in a workplace rendez-vous, Violet plans to work extra hard over the holidays, and Courtney accepts a welcome invitation.

***

Raven turned in the mirror, unsure if she should put her hair up or keep it down, the hustle and bustle of all the people required to run a fitting behind her.

She was wearing the closing gown, or what would become it with time; what she had been put in for now only a muslin skirt base and a top with loose stitched sleeves.

It was normal for couture to not be finished when it was tried on for the first time, the fitting today there to make sure that Fame liked the silhouette in motion and that Raven fit in the garment since she was the closing model, but she had to admit she was curious to see Violet’s actual work and the intricate details of it that Raja had mentioned in passing.

“Hey princess.”

Raven looked in the mirror, watching as Raja walked up to her, her fiancée leaving that morning before she was even awake, a mug in the sink and the smell of coffee the only traces of her. She was wearing a blue suit with a yellow shirt, the pants cinched in at her waist, her long hair in a thick half updo.

They had been together for years, but sometimes, Raven could still get butterflies when Raja looked at her just right, few things as powerful or sexy as Raja’s confidence and how she carried herself.

“Hey,” Raven smiled, turning her head so Raja could give her a quick peck, her arms sneaking around her waist. “Hair up or down?”

“Hmm,” Raja ran a hand through Raven’s hair, pulling it to one side before resting her head on her shoulder, her gray eyes focusing in on her. “Down. Even though you do look gorgeous enough to get away with whatever you want.”

Raven smirked, a pleasant sense of pride washing over her since she had been extra careful with her makeup. Normally, Raven didn’t do first fittings, but she wasn’t going to miss out on having Raja’s undivided attention, standing completely still for an hour a price worth paying.

“My beautiful girl.” Raja kissed Raven’s neck, pulling her even closer, and that was when Raven felt it, her eyes widening in the mirror.

“Raj,” Raven hissed, keeping her voice as a whisper, “are you?”

“Mmh,” Raja nodded, a grin on her face as she gave a small thrust of her hips, a strap clearly against her thigh. “A little surprise.”

Raven bit her lip, barely hiding a whimper at how insanely hot this was, the surprise in no way shape or form little. She loved it when Raja was packing, loved it when she knew there was a chance that she could get thrown against a wall at any minute and fucked hard and fast. “Oh god.”

“I’ll see you in my office once we’re done,” Raja smirked. “Right?”

This time, Raven did whimper as she nodded. She had no idea how she’d play it cool for the actual fitting, how she’d deal with the sight of Raja leaned back in a chair, taking her notes and sharing her inputs, knowing that she had a strap ready to go.

***

“Let me see the side.”

Gigi was just about to open her mouth to reply with a yes, when she felt a stranger touch her hips, turning her, and she remembered that Sutan had told her that fittings wasn’t a talking job.

She was standing in the middle of what had to be a tailoring floor. There were the professional grade sewing machines she recognised from her mothers workshop on desks all around her, the desks piled high with fabrics and surrounded by half-dressed mannequins. Gigi tried her best not to bounce in excitement at being so close to the process, but it was impossible not to.

“Do we still like the fabric?”

Bimini had told Gigi to remember that it was rude to stare at the people doing their job before she had left that morning, but it was hard not to sneak a glance out of the corner of her eye.

She had never met Miss Fame, but she had seen her in her mom's fashion magazines, the blonde sitting at a table against the window, her legs crossed, the red Louboutin sole the only part of her outfit that wasn’t white or gold.

“You’d rather we don’t go with the angora?” A bald man took a step forward, a gigantic pink clipboard in his hand. “I’m afraid merino might be too hot for the summer.”

Gigi was wearing a delicate crop top with short sleeves, the wool on it soft and extremely fluffy.

“Actually-” She opened her mouth, almost taking a step forward. “I think-“

She wanted to give her feedback, her top already hot to wear in December, and if it was for a summer collection, that seemed like important information, but she was cut off by a finger being held up, Sutan’s sister shooting her a look that told her to zip it without a single word.

Gigi hadn’t even known that Sutan had a twin sister until she had walked in for the fitting, the two of them strikingly similar even though they were different genders, their nose, eyes and height practically the same.

Raja gave her a small smile when Gigi nodded, her eyes lingering on her for a moment to make sure that she was actually silent, before she redirected her attention to Miss Fame, the discussion of wool blends still going on like Gigi and the other staff weren’t even there.

***

Raja sat at her computer, going through some model portfolios. Now that they’d chosen the models for the opening and closing looks, she could start to fill out the rest of the show. Some of the girls they’d had in the fitting today would be great, but some desperately needed to be replaced.

Model selection wasn’t what Fame cared about most, though that could simply be because Raja was so good at it, but it was important to have cohesion amongst the models, to tell a story with the girls you picked out.

She could hear Raven before she saw her, the firm footsteps of a woman who’d stomped many runways calling out. She smiled to herself, knowing that after their little flirtation this morning, and then the long wait after she and Fame had left the fitting, that her fiancée would be in quite a state.

Raven entered the office, quickly slamming the door and locking it. Raja barely looked up, pretended to be concentrating hard on her computer.

This was all part of their game; in some ways, it was Raja’s favorite part.

A slight huff of annoyance that Raja knew was exaggerated for effect left Raven’s lips as she strode forward, finally planting herself down directly in front of Raja, preventing her from seeing her computer.

She looked fucking fantastic, and Raja leaned back in her desk chair, watching Raven slowly shed her clothes until she was naked, wearing nothing but underwear, diamond jewelry and a pair of heels, legs spread open invitingly, a wet patch already forming.

Raja rolled her chair forward, letting Raven drape one leg over the arm. She pressed a line of kisses up Raven’s delicious thigh, feeling her gasp as she moved her panties aside, breath ghosting over her clit.

One of the things Raja loved the most about Raven was her absolute inability to hold back--whether that was bluntly stating her opinions, making her feelings well known with just a look, or immediately trembling and whimpering the second she was the slightest bit turned on.

“Princess…” Raja whispered, hands sliding around her waist as she rose up out of the chair. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes, yes,” Raven begged, reaching out to claw open Raja’s pants and shove down the panties that had been holding her dildo in place, letting it spring free.

“Turn around,” she ordered, right in Raven’s ear, and after a slight shiver, Raven obeyed, leaning over the desk with her ass on glorious display.

Raja slid her hands up that smooth, tanned skin, letting her strap slip between Raven’s legs to tease at her. She was already quivering and wet, reaching down to toy with her clit.

“Not yet, princess…” Raja laced her fingers into Raven’s and pulled her hand away, lips pressed to her neck. She was met with an impatient whine, and only chuckled, sliding both hands up to pinch her nipples.

“Oh god,” Raven moaned, throwing her head back, legs widening.

“Are you sure you’re ready, my love?”

“Yes, fucking yes,” Raven whined. Ready was quite an understatement--she was dripping wet and clawing at the surface of Raja’s desk. Her hips pushed back against Raja as she slowly, slowly slid the dildo inside her.

Raja gently cupped her tits, thumbs rubbing her nipples in circles.

“Do you want to touch yourself, princess?” Raja murmured in her ear, and was met with only a whimper of affirmation, Raven arching her back and rolling her hips, desperately trying to get the friction she wanted. “Go ahead…”

Raven’s hand immediately went to her clit once again, rubbing in furious circles as Raja began to thrust into her. She started out slow, but was soon fucking her relentlessly against the desk, the moans dripping from Raven’s lips the most beautiful music. She didn’t stop when Raven came the first time, sure she could wring a few more orgasms from her, pounding against her ass until she was lying face down on the desk with her head on her arms, body limp with exhaustion.

Raja pulled out slowly and carefully, pressing kisses to her shoulders and neck before sliding her panties back up her legs and giving her a firm pat on the ass.

“Very.”

***

“So. What’s the verdict?”

“On Symone? She’s practically perfect brother dear,”

“Raj-“

“Relax, I’m teasing you. Gigi’s…young.”

“Models tend to be, but we both know that’s not what I asked. Now come on. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

“She’s beautiful, eager, exiatable, and not at all ready.”

“Not at all?”

“She almost talked during the fitting. Several times, and I’m pretty sure I saw her chew gum.”

“I had a feeling.”

“You always have feelings. So?”

“She’s good, she has potential, but listening isn’t exactly her forte-”

“You should always throw her at Michael Kors.”

“What great advice.”

“Fine. Marc Jacobs then. No one says she has to be an exclusive for her first season.”

“I can live with that as long as you don’t suggest student shows. I’m too old to manage a student show model.”

“Getting too comfortable TanTan?”

“Getting tired. You know, other people take broken-in models. Models who know what they’re doing. I don’t know why I keep doing this. ”

“Because you love it, and because you’re the best.”

***

“Kat-Kat!” Pearl exclaimed, setting her bags on the kitchen table. “You’re still up!”

“Hi Pearlie,” Katya said, smiling over her cup of tea. “Whatcha got there?”

“I’m so glad you asked, madame,” Pearl said with a grin.

Just a week ago, Katya had looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders--sad and withdrawn, her vibrant personality dulled by fear and anxiety. Now, it was a whole different story.

She still clearly had concerns about the whole baby thing (which Pearl tried to understand, but she found it hard. After all, who on earth would be a better mother than Katya??), but it was a difference of night and day, and Pearl was relieved to see her back to herself.

Pearl had been out after work...skulking around the strip club again like a loser--Dahlia hadn’t even been working, as far as Pearl could tell while she waited, draining 3 gin and tonics, overtipping the girls that were actually there since she already had the cash.

When she had left, she’d walked by a Whole Foods right before closing, essentially emptying out the woman's health aisle.

She pulled the items out one by one for Katya to see.

“So, I was talking to Alyssa at work, and you know she’s had three kids, so she gave me a list of things to get for you. We’ve got multivitamins, folate, iron, vitamin D…” Pearl grinned as she twisted one of the bottles around. “All in all just a bunch of stuff to keep you and Killer healthy.”

“Awww, thank you baby!” Katya had jumped up, and now pressed a sloppy kiss to Pearl’s cheek. “You’re the best.”

“No, you’re the best, and Killer’s the luckiest baby in the whole world.”

“Wow, so glad that nickname is sticking,” Trixie said drily, walking into the kitchen, but Katya was laughing, so he couldn’t be too annoyed.

“Hey Trix.” Pearl grinned at him before opening one of the cabinets and helping Katya load up all the new vitamins and supplements. “Actually, I’m glad you’re both here, because uh…”

Pearl scratched her head, unsure of exactly how to approach the situation.

“So...listen, I know it’s not like, super urgent, but I assume that once Killer gets here, you’re gonna want to use my bedroom for them.”

“Oh,” Katya’s eyes widened. It seemed like something she hadn’t considered.

“So, you know, if you want me to start looking for another place, I can-”

“No!” Katya exclaimed, putting a hand on her arm, adding, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we have to worry about it yet,” Trixie said. “We’re not about to kick out our oldest just because you’re getting a little brother.”

Pearl and Katya both laughed, Katya moving a hand to her belly and asking, “You think it’s a boy?”

“Oh uh...I dunno, maybe,” Trixie grinned. “Either way, they better like pink.”

***

“So this is the girl you want me to take a look at?” Sutan put down their drinks, taking the portfolio Karl handed him, the two of them only just sitting down in a booth in the corner of one of their favorite bars.

“Mmh,” Karl hummed, a glint in his eyes as he grabbed his drink with a little umbrella. “She’s been asking and asking about doing America full time, and I think you’d be a good fit for her.”

“You think I’m a good fit for everyone.” Sutan smiled, flicking through the portfolio. They didn’t actually have to talk business, this entire exchange just as easily done in an email, but it was a long-standing tradition of theirs to make Elite pick up the tab, even though they could more than afford their drinks on their own.

“And she did British Vogue?”

“Cover and all,” Karl smirked, Sutan stopping on the printout of the pictures.

“There’s great skin, interesting eyes, good hair. All natural?”

“Not a single extension.”

“Hmm… I mean, she’s pretty, ” Sutan turned to another page, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“And?”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Ah,” Karl sighed, rolling his eyes. “And there he is, Amrull the asshole.”

“Ha,” Sutan snorted. “I resent that. All I’m saying is that I’m not sure if I have space, and I just signed Symone.”

“You can have more than one black girl in your stable.”

“Please,” Sutan raised an eyebrow, refusing to take the jab. It wasn’t something he bragged about, but he had always represented girls of color, had pushed to get them jobs and opportunities long before any of his fellow agents had picked up on fashion being more than boring blonde European girls and the occasional diversity hire. “You know it’s not that, I’m simply questioning her potential.”

“You liked Bimini.” Karl smirked, stirring his drink.

“You’re never going to let me forget that, huh?”

It was true that Karl was the one who had scouted Bimini, that he was the one who had picked her out of the crowd at a concert he had gone to in London, but Sutan was the one who had nurtured her, who had taught her and who had defended her from Elite when she had shaved her eyebrows off.

“No,” Karl grinned, raising his drink to say cheers, Sutan clicking their glass together.

“I’ll meet her,” Sutan took the portfolio, sliding it into his messenger bag, “but don’t expect anything.”

***

“Knock knock…” Roxy said, poking her head in the doorway of Miss Fame’s office suite, where Courtney was sitting with her head in her arms. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” Courtney jumped slightly, sitting up straight and forcing a smile. “Sorry, I was just having a moment.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, girl,” Roxy said, waving her hand, the other one holding her mug of coffee. She perched on the edge of Courtney’s desk. She’d been dying to talk to her more all week, and get some juicy details about her relationship now that it was public, but they’d both been insanely busy. Today though, Roxy had spent the morning training the temp who was covering her desk a few days next week, and the girl was quick enough that she felt secure leaving her alone for a while.

Unfortunately, Courtney didn’t look like she was in the mood for spilling any dirt. Her desk was littered with multiple projects, and she just generally looked like she was both miserable and under water.

“Rough day, huh?” Roxy prompted, hoping to get her to talk.

“Yeah,” Courtney admitted, sighing. “Rough week. And if Miss Fame doesn’t approve this holiday card list, I’m fucked.”

“I’m sorry.” Roxy tilted her head, wondering how to approach her real agenda tactfully before blurting out, “So how are things with Bianca?”

It was like Courtney’s entire mood instantly lifted, the mere mention of Bianca making her face soften into a smile, eyes shining.

“Can’t complain there,” she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Actually…” Courtney glanced around, lowering her voice to say, “Maybe you can help me with a little non-work-related project, if you’ve got a few minutes?”

“You’ve got my attention!”

***

COURTNEY: I have a confession…

COURTNEY: I stole something from your apt.

BIANCA: Lol, what?

Bianca flipped her phone over quickly, hoping that no one else in the editorial meeting had glimpsed the picture of Courtney on her phone, clad in nothing but Loubs and a pair of her own lacy red panties. There were more pictures, and Bianca was dying to see them, but she’d have to get through the rest of the fucking meeting before fully enjoying them in the privacy of her office.

“...so I think that it would be beneficial if we included more-”

“Yes, yes, approved,” Bianca said, cutting Dan off with a wave of her hand. “Anyone have anything else to add, or can we move on?”

“Somewhere to be, boss?” Nina asked silkily, a knowing smile on her face that told Bianca there was a chance she’d seen her phone.

“I’m sorry, did you want to spend another hour talking about mint green?” Bianca asked, trying to cover her impatience.

“No, I’m all good.” Nina smiled again.

“Great.”

***

“Once again, thank you so so much.”

“Whatever you need, Chachki!”

Violet smiled, making her way to the elevator, her new security card safely tucked away in her pocket. She had just finished a visit with the building's security, the guys who ran it all much more pleased to see her again then she had dared imagine.

Her visit hadn’t been strictly necessary, her designer clearance more than enough to get to and from the design floor in her everyday work life, but she had wanted to make sure that she had access to Galactica over the holidays, the security team instantly unlocking the backdoors and service points for her when she had asked.

Violet knew she wasn’t working in Fame’s office anymore, and knew that she was allowed to go on vacation, but she still felt bad about leaving in January, even though the majority of the new collection work was out of the designers’ hands.

She hadn’t checked in with Sutan about whether or not he’d be working between Christmas and New Years, but if she knew him at all, he would, though the parties Sutan often called work with a smile on his lips didn’t really live up to Violet’s definition of the word.

If she was honest, she was kind of excited for some peace and quiet, to have the floor entirely to herself, the extra time hopefully enough to catch her up to the standards of the company motto.

“Remember,” Violet whispered. “Only perfection is acceptable.”

***

“Hey angel, you on the way?” Bianca asked, after answering on the first ring.

“Hi,” Courtney said. In spite of the stress she was under, and her regret at skipping the romantic dinner she knew that Bianca had planned, a smile pulled at her lips at the sound of her voice. “And no, I’m sorry, I can't make it tonight. I’m gonna be here super late.”

“You’re not really sending me those naughty pictures and then cancelling, are you?” Bianca asked, voice low and husky.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could, you have no idea how much,” Courtney said. And it was true--too true. Thinking about seeing Bianca had been the only thing getting her through the day, but there was just no way to leave now. If she thought about it too hard, Courtney knew she’d start crying, so she was trying to simply suck it up and be an adult, no matter how much she wanted to run. “But I have so much to do. Miss Fame just approved the holiday card list and if I don’t get them in the mail before tomorrow morning’s pickup, I’m gonna-”

“Bring it here. You can work, I’ll order some dinner...and then we can do all the unspeakable things that I’ve been planning ever since you sent me those pictures.”

Courtney could feel her cheeks heating up. The pull to say yes was strong, but she was still uncertain. “But what if I have to re-print some labels? I’m just-”

“I have a printer, sunshine.”

Courtney bit her lip. It had been a rough week; Miss Fame was in a worse mood than normal, and her to do list never seemed to get shorter no matter how hard she worked or how late she stayed. And on top of everything, the weather had been absolute shit, so another freezing night in her damp, drafty apartment sounded like hell. She knew for sure that being in Bianca’s arms would instantly make everything better.

“Okay. Okay, yes, I’m coming,” she said. “I just need to get everything together here and then I’ll head over.”

“Perfect.” Bianca said, and Courtney could hear the satisfied smile in her voice, imagine her dimples deepening. “I’ll see you soon, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Courtney said, stomach still flipping with excitement every time she said the words.

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heavyarethecrowns · 3 years

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Is Kate turning into a Di-dentical copy? As Duchess steps out in Diana’s tiara (Dec 10th 2015)

COMPARISONS have long been made, but as the Duchess of Cambridge dazzled in her late mother-in-law's tiara she was firmly crowned her successor as our Queen of Hearts. Kate paid touching tribute to Diana when she chose to wear the princess's favourite headpiece to the Queen's annual Diplomatic Reception at Buckingham Palace this week. The gorgeous diamond and pearl Cambridge Lover's Knot tiara was given by the Queen to the Princess of Wales as a wedding present in 1981, and Diana wore it for the first time at the state opening of Parliament that November. Yesterday Kate, 33, had a more business-like look, with a skirt suit and a shorter haircut, at the 23rd annual ICAP Charity Day in the City of London - where one burly trader met her while wearing stilettos and hotpants in the fancy-dress fundraiser. But since before she even slipped on Diana's famous sapphire-and-diamond engagement ring, Kate's fashion choices have often mirrored those of husband Prince William's beloved late mum. Surely our modern royal couple couldn't have been unaware of the similarity between Kate's royal blue engagement outfit and Diana's own in 1981? Or the polka dots both women wore to present their newborn sons on the same hospital steps? CHARM Those close to the duchess have noted their strikingly similar personalities and manners, too. Just like Diana, Kate has the easy smile, the genuine warmth, the unself-conscious charm and ability to reach out to the public which, until recently, had always seemed to elude our Royal Family. Diana ignored royal protocol, taking sick children and Aids victims alike into her embrace. Kate also truly seems to care. She wrote a letter of comfort to young leukaemia sufferer Fabian Bates, who she met on a visit to the Royal Marsden hospital in Chelsea, West London. It was a personal touch worthy of the People's Princess. Kate also seems to share Diana's zest for life. When she cheered and grimaced watching Andy Murray crash out of Wimbledon last year it brought to mind Diana singing along to Freddie Mercury at Live Aid or giggling while dancing with John Travolta. And just like Diana, Kate seems determined to bring up her children as normally as she can. Diana had her sons in hospital - the first royal to do so away from the palaces. Kate followed suit. William was the first royal baby to accompany his parents on an official foreign trip. Kate took George on theirs. Diana made sure her boys got regular treats, trips to McDonald's and the zoo, like other kids. Kate has an annual pass to the petting farm at Snettisham Park near her Norfolk home, which Prince George reportedly loves. One was a princess, the other a duchess - but Kate, like Diana before her, is a down-to-earth royal who, for all the tiaras in the world, will not allow her children to grow up without her.

#princess diana #duchess of cambridge #kate middleton #article

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theanimeview · 4 years

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Beware of the Brothers! - The Twins That Aren’t Twins Analysis

I recently read some of the comic Beware of the Brothers! (그 오빠들을 조심해!) and my eyes were drawn to the clothes and what they could mean. I was really interested in the two youngest Ernst children, Hari--the adopted daughter--and Eric--the twin without a twin.

If you’ve read the story, you know that Hari was brought in, at first, as a replacement for the daughter that the Ernst family lost. Quickly, Eugene puts an end to the “replacement” fantasy of his parents and luckily we never went through the common trope of Hari being miss-named, which would have undoubtedly been more traumatic for everyone of the characters. Instead, the story progresses quickly, allowing Hari to adjust to her restarted life as the adopted child of a noble family. It also allows me to get to the point I want to make in this review of the fashion choices by the creator(s) of the series.

Tell me, what do you think of when you see a pair in matching outfits? If the people look alike or are children, I generally think twins or siblings. I mean, I have two nieces that are a little more than a year a part who are always dressed the same by their mother. It’s a thing. And, as a middle schooler I regularly found myself “twinning” with my besties. As an adult, especially consider the media I consume, I noticed couples wearing matching and complimentary outfits--a topic I believe I have mentioned before but will mention again here.

Matching outfits and complementary outfits are my favorite in any visual media. I particularly love matching outfits in comics since it usually symbolizes one of two things--love interests and or a mental connection with another person. You see it often in uniforms or coupled outfits, and when the pairing or unit is in distress, the first thing that is usually replaced, thrown out, or lost is that matching element.

Which is why I am fascinated by Hari and Eric in Beware of the Brothers!.

The two youngest siblings are not twins even though they really do look like it in many regards. We know that Hari is almost a spitting image of the late Ernest daughter, save for her eyes, based on other images, but still they have no blood relationship with each other as far as we, the audience, know and as far as they, the siblings, know. The Ernest couple never mention a lost cousin, a bastard child, or anything else, so in all regards Hari really is randomly a spitting image of their late blood relation and yet not one. This is actually a major point of strife among the four siblings (three blood related boys and Hari) in the beginning, ESPECIALLY for Eric who lost his twin.

Eric and Hari, therefore, do NOT get along in the beginning. Arguably, it takes these two the longest to come to terms with each other over all. In fact, Hari admits to them being down right violent with each other at first--with the two going so far as to kick, trip, and push each other. Additionally, we see that being compared or thought of as twins is really strikingly hard on Eric when the one time it does happen in the series, he runs away:

But it’s hard not to see them as such when you look at how they are dressed and behave as the work continues.

Early in the series, they always wore different clothes, example:

Hari has a pink and grey color scheme in the image above, while Eric is wearing blues and white. The costumes aren’t complementary colors, they don’t match and they’re obviously different designs even in chibi style.

But in the moment they are compared as twins, they look like this:

Their colors are in the same family and the the designs are similar--more so than when compared to any of the other siblings--and, they’re both missing front teeth in this scene. They were dressed like twins in that moment. Definitely with a variation of color, but ultimately very close.

Then we see the pattern repeated once they grow up.

For example, here they are as teens:

And again:

Even in later scenes as children:

Did you notice the pattern?

The two are wearing clothes in similar color families. Eric and Hari wear matching patterns, with Eric having a darker corresponding color to Hari’s pastels in most shots. Even in the last image where they stand as children saying goodbye to the Vestia family, Hari and Eric are the only ones in a blue color scheme from their household. If she wears light blue, he wears dark. Her dress has pink flowers on a blue-grey background, Eric wears a dark blue grey coat with a darker pink ascot. Finally, in the image directly above, Eric is wearing a lavender-blue in between the two lavender-blues of Hari’s outfit.

They match.

We see this style of matching/complimentary color schemes with the Vestia children too:

The off-whites of the two siblings are the same, the blacks are the same shades and both on their legs, the grey toned vest (boy) and dress (girl) are similarly tinted from the same purple-pinkish family.

It actually feels very telling in this scene that Hari is closer to the two blue-haired siblings than her three brothers as Hari’s pinks match well/complement the purple-pink tinted grays seen on the Vestia siblings (more so than with Cabel’s blues and browns or the other boys):

What could this mean?

Are Hari and Eric meant to be shipped based on their outfits? I vote NO (strongly). Instead, I believe it suggest a kinship that they share which becomes stronger than with the other brothers.

Perhaps the two are “astral twins,” born at the same time but to different parents or perhaps they simply represent a gemini set of paradoxes or conflicting ideas--at least, that would be my theory.

They are twins who aren’t twins and they both, whether they want to admit it or not, have a strong connection that comes across in Chapter 36 as we find the two awake in the middle of the night talking where Eric asks Hari whether she likes Johan or not. It shows their differing opinions on the subject of discussing likes/dislikes and, even though they aren’t in matching outfits, it’s pretty clear that more and more they have a strong mental connection that doesn’t feel inncestrious or sexual.

I really hope that the creator develops more on this, preferably not leading (as the cover image at the top seems to imply) to a harem of brothers. I think a found-family story is much better served when Johan is such a capable romantic lead.

But what are you all thinking? How do you feel about the twins that aren’t twins idea? Let me know!

#그 오빠들을 조심해!#Beware of the Brothers!#analysis #theory #dresses #fashion #clothing #twin #twins #twins that aren't twins

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louistomlinsoncouk · 4 years

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He became a bona-fide teen pop superstar as part of One Direction, then suffered unthinkable personal loss. Louis Tomlinson talks to Guy Kelly about fame, family and what comes next.

Louis Tomlinson took part in an online video recently, in which he was tasked with answering the internet’s most-searched questions about him. It was fairly tame, as you might expect of a pop quiz thrown at a pop star. ‘How do you pronounce Louis Tomlinson?’ the first read. There’s an interesting answer to that, actually, but we’ll come to it. ‘How old is Louis Tomlinson?’ was the second. He’s 28. And then came the third. ‘How is Louis Tomlinson?’

In the video, the man himself looks a little bewildered, dismissing the query as ‘random’ before moving on. But underneath, in the YouTube comments – one of the few nooks of the internet where love and goodwill still thrives – a fan repeated it. ‘“How is Louis Tomlinson,”’ they wrote, ‘the only question that matters.’ More than 7,000 people ‘liked’ it.

Given all Tomlinson’s been through in the past four years, it seems reasonable to ask. In 2016, the band he’d been in man and boy, One Direction, went on an indefinite hiatus after six years. Since being welded together by Simon Cowell on The X Factor in 2010, ‘1D’ had enjoyed perhaps the most stratospheric rise in music (five platinum albums, four world tours) since The Beatles. It hadn’t been Tomlinson’s decision to break up the band, and he wasn’t – still isn’t – particularly happy about it.

In December of that year, his beloved mother, Johannah Deakin, died a few months after being diagnosed with leukaemia. She was 43. Tomlinson pressed on with his nascent solo career, but unimaginable tragedy struck again. In March 2019, his 18-year-old half-sister, Félicité, was found unconscious at her flat in London and couldn’t be revived. An inquest later found she had died of an accidental drug overdose. Again, he buckled down, looked after his remaining siblings, and committed himself to finishing his debut album.

Settling down with Tomlinson in the corner of a west London photo studio, then, it seems as good a place as any to start: how is he?

‘I’m good, mate, I’m feeling good,’ he says, spreading his arms across a sofa. After wearing a series of high-end outfits for our photo shoot (‘I never feel super-comfortable on shoots; I’ve got one f—king pose – moody’), he’s in a black ’90s-inspired collared jumper, black trousers and black trainers.

He pushes his fringe to one side. The Doncaster accent, which softened in his 1D days, is back to pure, unfettered South Yorks. It’s all ‘in t’band’, ‘I didn’t know owt’, and swearing like a navvy. He’s honest, funny, and if his feet were planted any more firmly on the ground he’d be unable to walk.

I tell him about the YouTube comment, which seems to reflect the genuine care his fans have for him.

‘Ah, yeah I know, they’re considerate, they are. We’ve got a special, interesting bond. They’ve grown up with me – and I’ve been through some personal stuff and they’ve always been there for me.’

Tomlinson’s album, Walls, has been a long time coming. Immediately after One Direction split, he released a couple of singles – dance-y pop collaborations – which were fine, but not what he wanted to make. Halfway through writing Walls he realised, ‘If I’m chasing radio with every song I write, I’m not going to be doing this job for very long.’

So he relaxed, and the result is a mix of strong, melody-driven pop of the kind One Direction mastered, and what Tomlinson is really into, namely guitar-driven indie and Britpop. Some songs for the fans; some nodding to the future.

‘It’s a five-album plan. There’s bits where I’ve been almost selfish, and bits where I’ve been respectful to the fan base and what they love listening to,’ he says. ‘Then the next will be a step closer to the stuff I want to make. But I’ve got to earn my stripes.’

The dominant theme, I say, appears to be resilience. On the single Don’t Let It Break Your Heart, he advises, ‘Even when it hurts like hell / Oh, whatever tears you apart / Don’t let it break your heart.’ On the rousing title track (which features a writing credit for Noel Gallagher, who gave his blessing for a chorus strikingly similar to an Oasis tune), he sings, ‘These high walls that broke my soul / I watched all come falling down.’

It could be to do with grief, professional struggles, or his relationship. He nods.

‘Yeah, I write very autobiographically and had so much going on in my head, but in the struggle I’m trying to paint the message that you’re always left with a choice: to see the glass half-full or half-empty. It’s showing there’s hope.’

Some songwriters have found grief productive, others paralysing. Tomlinson was the former. One track on Walls is the previously released Two of Us, a beautiful, simple song written about his mum (‘You’ll never know how much I miss you / The day that they took you, I wish it was me instead’).

‘What’s amazing about this job is that regardless of the situation, you get something positive at the end of it. That’s obviously an emotionally heavy song for me, but fans have come up to me in floods of tears and talked about how it’s helped in their own tragedy. It’s incredible. From the dark, you can give hope.’

For the first three years of his life, Tomlinson was raised alone by Johannah, who split from his father, Troy Austin, when he was a baby. They lived above a launderette in Doncaster, where his mother worked multiple jobs, principally as a midwife, before she married Mark Tomlinson, a van salesman who became Louis’s stepfather. The three moved into a two-up, two-down, which was soon filled with half-sisters: Lottie, now 21, Félicité, then twins Daisy and Phoebe, now 16.

‘It was mad. They’re manic, young girls…’ he says. ‘Mum and Mark had a decent income but they couldn’t spread it around [a family of] seven. At times things were really good, you’d get 20 quid in a birthday card, but others were really difficult. I remember the electricity meter – you’d get five quid on the house as an emergency when you couldn’t top it up. Sometimes it’d be a gamble when it’d run out…’

Tomlinson wasn’t particularly academic – ‘though I’m not daft or owt’ – but loved school. There, he joined a band at 16 and found he was OK at singing, so he applied to audition for The X Factor. He failed, twice, but succeeded on the third try, in 2010, performing a fairly terrible (he admits it) version of Plain White T’s Hey There Delilah.

A few months later, at the ‘bootcamp’ stage, Cowell had the idea of creating a band comprised of Tomlinson and four other solo boys: Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. They were to be called One Direction. Tomlinson, who’d been intimidated by the standard of other vocalists in the competition, ‘bit their hand off’ at the offer. ‘I was like, “This is my ticket.”’

The show came just after his second run at the first year of his A levels. He’d failed the first time, with UUE in psychology, PE and English, which his mum had ‘absolutely ripped [his] head off’ for. The second time he’d gone one better, UEE. So he lied, telling her he got a smattering of Ds, and came up with a plan.

‘I waited until after the X Factor final, when we were all sat around drinking champagne, and told her, “By the way, I bulls—tted you on those results. I failed again, but hopefully we’ll be all right now…”’ he laughs. ‘She was fine. I picked my moment well.’

One Direction came third in the final, losing to runner-up Rebecca Ferguson and winner Matt Cardle, a former painter-decorator who now performs in the West End. But it was always felt that the group would go furthest, not least because Cowell was such a supporter (all the other boys have now left his record label, Syco, but because ‘loyalty is the biggest thing’ for Tomlinson, he’s stayed).

Eighteen when the group started, Tomlinson was the oldest member (the others were 16 and 17), ‘just allowed to drink, just allowed to drive’, but suddenly everything in his life was controlled.

‘You’re ready to be reckless and stupid, but then I was in the band and couldn’t ever act like that, especially not publicly,’ he says. They went on their first headline concert tour in 2011, and soon had fans surrounding their hotels overnight, wherever in the world they went. Naturally, they embraced partying.

‘There was a good 18 months where I was going out all the time. The press love to write about that as if it’s this chaotic thing, and at times it was, but it’s also an escape. Once you have a couple of drinks down you in a club, you’re just someone in the club, part of everyone else, and not everyone is looking at you.’

Even when he was away, he kept in contact with his mum by phone – or in person, when she could join him – as much as possible. The two were impossibly close: she had access to his emails; he told her when he lost his virginity; she knew about his finances.

‘One thing I’ve learnt since losing her is that any decision, even if I knew the answer, I’d call her,’ he says. ‘I didn’t realise how reliant I’d become on her. That was the hardest thing for me, understanding that living life after meant making decisions on my own. I thought I’d always have a sounding board. There was a different level of credibility with my mum, because I idolised her.’

Styles has recently joked that One Direction were ‘grown in test tubes’ by Cowell, but Tomlinson insists that part of their appeal lay in the fact that they all had their own personalities and talents, which weren’t forced on them. Still, it took him years to know where he fitted. Styles was cool, a heart-throb. Malik was moody and mysterious. Horan was cute and Irish. Payne was whatever Payne was. But Tomlinson wasn’t sure.

‘You’ve got to be dead cocky in Doncaster to survive – it’s either that or be picked on. So I used to walk around with a chip on my shoulder. But I’d always been the funny guy, centre of attention, so I never struggled to make mates,’ he says. ‘It was weird suddenly being in a situation where one or two members are constantly in a better position. It took me a while to understand my strengths. I was the oldest and it wasn’t until the third album when I made it my mission to write the most.’

He succeeded: Tomlinson’s writing credit appears on 39 of the 96 songs One Direction recorded, four more than Payne and dozens more than the rest. But it was intense. There were times when he considered quitting the band, if only to allow him to escape the attention, but he likens that to children running away from home. ‘By the time you get halfway down the street you regret it and go back…’

‘Directioners’ were ‘fanatical’ about the boys, to a frequently absurd degree. And not every encounter was surreally funny. The year after the hiatus began, in 2017, Tomlinson and Calder were involved in a scuffle with paparazzi and fans at the airport in LA. Fists possibly flew, and Tomlinson was arrested, only for no further action to be taken. The fans now are still loyal, still ardent, but they’ve matured with him.

What kept him grounded, as the money rolled in (I have heard that each of the boys amassed a £40 million fortune from the band, and that collectively they still earn around £38,000 a week from royalties, merchandise and so on) and the fans bayed, was keeping friends from Doncaster around. When I arrived at today’s photo shoot, Tomlinson was busy doing his singular pose at one end of the room, while at the other, near the free pastries, a young redheaded bloke in a tracksuit lurked, scrolling through his phone.

He introduced himself as Oli, Tomlinson’s ‘mate from Donny’, who has spent the better part of a decade travelling the world with his pop-star friend, and seems to operate as a walking comfort blanket. They live together when Tomlinson’s in LA.

They also live together when he’s in London. I imagine there’s space for house guests wherever he is, though: it has been reported that he put his Hollywood Hills mansion on the market last year for $6.995 million, and the previous year valued another property in California at $13.999 million, after apparently renting it out for $40,000 per month.

‘I’m hoping to do a bit of work with Louis’s tour manager this year,’ Oli says, cheerfully. I later discover he’s so ever-present with Tomlinson that he even has his own fan accounts on social media.

‘I remember bringing a mate out for our first US tour. He called from his hotel with his mind blown by being able to pick up a phone and they’d just bring you food,’ Tomlinson says. ‘I go back to Donny and hear heavy s—t – struggles with jobs, money, family, health. That humbles me, and gives me a better emotional intelligence.’

He reckons ‘eight out of 10 people have an ulterior motive’ when they meet him. Luckily he can tell if someone’s a pre-fame friend. His name is pronounced ‘Loo-ee’, but he wasn’t keen on it as a child, so had mates, like Oli, pronounce it ‘Lewis’, which they still do. Unfortunately Cowell guessed at ‘Loo-ee’ on The X Factor, so that was that for the stage name.

By 2015, some members of One Direction felt an itch to break off – or just have a break – and try their own thing. Malik had gone in March, and while a full split seemed inevitable, Tomlinson was still caught off-guard.

‘I was f—king fuming at first. We were working really hard – people [namely, Payne] have said overworked, but we weren’t overworked, that’s just what happens when you’re a band that size, though I understand. I thought I’d mentally prepared myself for a break, but it hit me hard.’

He was finally feeling comfortable in the band, and hadn’t thought about a solo career.

‘About a week after, I sat there thinking, “Strike while the iron’s hot,” but I wasn’t ready. I was bitter and angry, I didn’t know why we couldn’t just carry on. But now, even though I don’t fully understand everyone’s individual reasons, I respect them.’

They’re ostensibly all still mates, despite going in radically different musical directions, though some are closer than others. Tomlinson seems to mention Horan with most affection, and the pair performed at the same event in Mexico in November, titillating 1D fans by sound-checking together with one of the band’s old songs.

If it was up to you, I ask, would the group still be going? He considers this for a moment.

‘It if was up to me, yeah. I’d maybe have said, “Let’s have a year off.” But yeah, probably. I’m sure there’s a better analogy out there but it’s a bit like [shutting down] Coca-Cola. You don’t say, “Right, let’s hang the boots up on that,” because it’s a massive thing.’

Afterwards he muddled around for a bit, including releasing those early singles – one of which he performed on The X Factor, rigid with grief, just days after his mum’s death. Then he returned to the show last year as a judge, alongside Cowell, Robbie Williams and Williams’s wife, Ayda Field.

Did he get on with Robbie? He smiles, arching an eyebrow. ‘Why do you ask?’ Well, he came out of a boy band, went solo…

‘Oh, yeah, he was all right. He’s a good man, we were just different from each other. Certain moments I thought, “F—king hell, Robbie, just sit down for five minutes, I’ve got something to say.” I love his missus though, Ayda, she’s sound.’

Tomlinson liked mentoring, and during our conversation it becomes clear he’s fuelled by responsibility. He was the oldest sibling in his house, and although Mark Tomlinson and Johannah’s second husband (after divorcing Mark in 2011, she married Dan Deakin in 2014; they had twins Ernest and Doris) are still around, he became a paternal figure after she died. He’s particularly involved in the lives of Daisy and Phoebe, to whom he’s ‘a kind of second parent’.

‘Without being too soppy, I like looking after people, it’s cool. At the moment I’m stressing trying to convince Daisy and Phoebe to go to sixth form. They’ve been to private school near Donny, and it’s proper expensive. I’m paying for it thinking they’re staying on, but now they don’t want to go. I told them education is important. I’m like, “You’re 16, you haven’t got a f—king idea what the real world is,”’ he says.

‘What’s difficult about those two is they’ve only known the 1D craziness. They’ve grown up in this elitist way, which is very different from my upbringing and Lottie’s, and the values my mum taught us.’

He gives a ‘kids, eh?’ sigh. ‘Consistency is the big thing. I’m trying to get better at being in their heads enough so they think, “I wonder if Louis thinks this is a good idea?”’

Lottie lives in Hackney, east London. When she was a teenager, Tomlinson got her a job assisting One Direction’s make-up artist, and within a few years she’d become a ridiculously popular Instagrammer (currently with 3.4 million followers, still 10 million shy of Louis). Her big brother told her Instagram’s fine, but she must ‘become a proper businesswoman’ in case the bubble bursts. In 2018 she launched Tanologist, a successful fake-tan brand.

‘I’m so proud of her. She’s just been in Australia, where she’s stocked in Melbourne’s version of Boots!’ Tomlinson says, beaming.

Félicité, known to the family as Fizz, was also a budding Instagrammer. After her death last March, a post-mortem revealed ‘toxic’ levels of anti-anxiety and pain medications, as well as cocaine, in her blood. Six months later, an inquest heard that she had visited her GP in August 2018 and ‘gave a history of recreational drug use… on a consistent basis since the death of her mother’. She had taken overdoses and been admitted to a rehabilitation clinic.

Tomlinson hesitates to say anything was ‘easier’, comparing the deaths of Félicité and his mum, as ‘both felt very individual, and hit me with a big impact… but I think dealing with the family, how I can be there for them, that was a lot easier the second time because the first time I was grieving and didn’t know what to say. As time went on I grew to understand what to say to my sisters.’

Prioritising the feelings of your sisters in the immediate aftermath is understandable, I say, but I wonder if anyone took care of you. He looks surprised.

‘No, but friends and family, my best mate… I feel their support but I get most out of doing stuff for other people. I don’t say that to sound like a good guy, it’s genuinely what gives me strength.’

Did you ever consider grief therapy?

‘Nah, a lot of people recommended it but I’m a little bit old-fashioned when it comes to therapy. I’m sure it’s incredible, but I thought I’d be all right, and I have been till now.’ One of his many tattoos consists of the words ‘It Is What It Is’ across his chest. ‘I know the things I’ve been upset about in my life are s—t, but I can’t change them, so you have to make the best of what you’ve got.’

Tomlinson gives his own big smile. Our time’s nearly up, and he’d like a cigarette. After all you’ve been through, I tell him, people would have understood if you’d called it a day. You could have lived off royalties, enjoyed a quiet life.

‘Definitely, definitely. But do you know what? It didn’t cross my mind once. I somehow have an inability to worry, and just get on with things,’ he says, shrugging. ‘It’s definitely made me stronger. I’ve gone through every emotion, and I’m just f—king excited now.’

I think we have an answer. How is Louis Tomlinson? Hopefully, he’ll be just fine.

Walls is released on 31 January

#some things have been removed #louis tomlinson #17jan20

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elceeu2morrow · 4 years

Link

By Guy Kelly 17 JANUARY 2020 • 8:00PM

He became a bona-fide teen pop superstar as part of One Direction, then suffered unthinkable personal loss. Louis Tomlinson talks to Guy Kelly about fame, family and what comes next.

[complete article below the cut]

Settling down with Tomlinson in the corner of a west London photo studio, then, it seems as good a place as any to start: how is he?

I tell him about the YouTube comment, which seems to reflect the genuine care his fans have for him.

It could be to do with grief, professional struggles, or his relationship – he’s happily with his girlfriend, 27-year-old fashion blogger Eleanor Calder, but they’ve been on and off over the years. He nods.

Eighteen when the group started, Tomlinson was the oldest member (the others were 16 and 17), ‘just allowed to drink, just allowed to drive’, but suddenly everything in his life was controlled.

They also live together when he’s in London, along with Calder, to whom it was recently reported that Tomlinson is engaged (his representatives denied the rumour). I imagine there’s space for house guests wherever he is, though: it has been reported that he put his Hollywood Hills mansion on the market last year for $6.995 million, and the previous year valued another property in California at $13.999 million, after apparently renting it out for $40,000 per month.

He was finally feeling comfortable in the band, and hadn’t thought about a solo career.

If it was up to you, I ask, would the group still be going? He considers this for a moment.

Did he get on with Robbie? He smiles, arching an eyebrow. ‘Why do you ask?’ Well, he came out of a boy band, went solo…

He gives a ‘kids, eh?’ sigh. ‘Consistency is the big thing. I’m trying to get better at being in their heads enough so they think, “I wonder if Louis thinks this is a good idea?”’

‘I’m so proud of her. She’s just been in Australia, where she’s stocked in Melbourne’s version of Boots!’ Tomlinson says, beaming.

Prioritising the feelings of your sisters in the immediate aftermath is understandable, I say, but I wonder if anyone took care of you. He looks surprised.

‘No, but friends and family, my best mate, my girlfriend, my son… I feel their support but I get most out of doing stuff for other people. I don’t say that to sound like a good guy, it’s genuinely what gives me strength.’

Did you ever consider grief therapy?

What he’s got is an album to launch, a world tour to prep for and, immediately, a flight to catch. He and Oli are off to see Freddie. ‘When I’m working I definitely don’t see him enough,’ Tomlinson says, ‘but he looks just like me, which is cool. I’m excited to see his big smile.’

I think we have an answer. How is Louis Tomlinson? Hopefully, he’ll be just fine.

Walls is released on 31 January

#unedited #lt interview #lt news #telegraph 2020 #1.17.20 #walls promo #elounor 2.0 #baby stunt #rip jay #rip fizzy #family #oli #1d mention #who's taking care of you #paying for the twins #being a parent

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nicolewrites · 6 years

Text

dearly beloved

hi, i’m alive

Rating: G/G+ Genre: Romance and Friendship Characters: [Ash K. and Misty] Words: 5,473

in which Ash and Misty decide to get married and the world collectively loses its mind / poke, ikari, contest, wishful, leafgreen / ua

AO3 | FFN

Paul hardly looked up from his book as he slid aside the latch on the mailbox and reached in to retrieve their mail. As usual, there was the letter from Reggie and Maylene with a hastily added signature from little Preston, a couple of magazines relating to Dawn’s work, some bills, a postcard from Zoey and Candice’s world tour, and a high-quality formal envelope. His brow creased as he pulled out the last item. It reminded him of letters he got for official League events, but there were none of those coming up, so he was left perplexed. The printing that their address was written in was in handwriting that Paul also usually associated with the League, but this time, it was clearly of a personal level.

He slid it back in between a magazine and Zoey’s postcard and tucked all the mail under his arm. He closed the mailbox and headed back towards the house. He shut the door behind him and followed the noise in the house to the kitchen.

Dawn stood in the doorway of the kitchen with her back to him, but she heard him coming and turned to face him. She stepped towards him as he neared, leaning up to peck him on the lips. He returned the simple gesture and passed her the mail. She beamed and spun, her hair flying back and nearly striking him in the face, before walking into the kitchen.

Paul followed her in and placed his book on the counter before moving towards the kitchen table. Dawn was hovering between the fridge and the table, skimming through the mail while also glancing at the third person in the room every so often. Little Noah, the product of a happy accident when Paul was 21 and Dawn just 20, was happily eating the porridge that his mother had prepared. Noah paused to grin widely as Paul sat down at the table. Paul’s lip twitched up as he admired his son for a moment. Noah looked strikingly like Dawn besides the flint grey eyes that were definitely his.

Dawn had apparently found the letter as she placed the rest of the mail down on the counter next to Paul’s book. She held it up and looked at him in confusion. “Do you know what this is for?” “No,” he replied.

Dawn walked towards his chair and Paul leaned forwards slightly. She perched herself sideways across his lap, leaning into him slightly as she tore along the top of the envelope. “It’s addressed to both of us,” she mused.

Paul’s hand rested on the outside of her hip to hold her in place as he watched over her shoulder as she pulled out an invitation of a sort that was thankfully not adorned with the terrible handwriting of the Indigo Champion. Dawn let out an excited gasp as she realized what the card was. Paul raised an eyebrow.

“Were they even dating?” he asked.

Dawn laughed. “Not exactly no, but I mean, it is Ash. I imagine Misty could only put up with him for so long.”

Paul gave Dawn a weird look. “She’s signing herself up for dealing with Ash for life this way,” he reminded.

“Yes, but he’ll have to deal with her too, and I think commitment is something in itself.”

Dawn placed the invite on the table and glanced at Noah. The toddler was contently eating his breakfast. He seemed quite happy to ignore both of his parents despite his mother’s curious stare.

“Besides,” she teased coyly, brushing her fingertips along the hand he’d placed on her, “I don’t think we’re allowed to judge how other people get married.” Paul glanced at Noah before pressing a soft kiss to Dawn’s hair in a rare display of affection. “At least we were together before he came along,” he pointed out.

Dawn hummed her agreement. She picked up the card again and flipped to the inside where the date was written. “September 7? That’s so soon!”

“They both have League obligations the further into the season it gets,” Paul reminded and Dawn made a small sound of acknowledgement.

“Still,” she argued, “even we were engaged for more than a month and we deal with the same kind of issues as Ash does with you and arguably more so with Noah.”

Paul shrugged. He definitely didn’t have an answer for Ash and Misty’s decision. Ash was already hard enough to manage when they were dealing with Interregional politics that required communication between the two champions, Paul didn’t have time to analyze Ash’s personal life too.

Dawn perked up suddenly. “Oh! I guess we’ll have to get Noah a little suit then!”

Paul tensed. “Why does our two-year-old need a suit?”

“Because it’s a wedding! Everyone has to dress up!”

Paul sighed. Even though she worked as a Poké Stylist, he wondered sometimes why Dawn didn’t just switch into a career in fashion. She’d made her own wedding dress when they were married and had been the designer for May’s. He supposed it was because PokéStyling was more similar to coordinating.

“Just don’t wear yourself out,” he said. “I know you’re going to insist on making Noah’s outfit and you’ve probably already started mentally designing your own, but don’t burn out.” Dawn twisted to look at him and she beamed. “I love you too,” she teased and leaned in so she could kiss him again.

Noah whined across the table and the two adults pulled apart and turned to face the child who had upset his bowl and was hovering on the verge of tears. Dawn shook her head and stood from Paul’s lap, heading to give their son the comfort he wanted.

Iris was tired. She was dead tired and she just wanted to go back to sleep. Cilan kept shooting her concerned looks, but Iris ignored him. They had been planning for this lunch for a while–they couldn’t just cancel. Besides, across from her, Trip looked nearly as exhausted. “How was your trip to Hoenn?” Cilan asked politely as he brought over the last dish he had prepared. Though it was a little past lunchtime, Iris and Cilan had agreed to host Trip for lunch while he was in Opelucid after arriving back in Unova from a vacation.

“It was good,” Trip replied almost noncommittally. He yawned and Cilan let out a sympathetic chuckle.

“You’ve not yet adjusted back from the time change, have you?”

Trip laughed shortly. “No, I haven’t, but that’s my excuse, what’s yours?” He directed the last bit of the question towards Iris who just shook her head.

“I’ve been up late these last few nights,” Iris defended. Trip raised an eyebrow and she knew he needed more justification. “The Unova League is apparently seeing a competitor who gave Paul trouble last year. I want to be ready.” “Mm,” Trip consented finally, “the guy that got the Sinnoh Champ down to just his starter right?”

“Yes,” Cilan said as he finally took his seat at the table. He brushed his hand over Iris’s comfortingly. “The way you’ve been training lately, he will be very hard pressed to beat you.”

Iris smiled into her drink as she took a sip from her glass of water. “That’s the plan.”

There was silence that fell over the three of them for several minutes as they all ate: enjoying Cilan’s excellent cooking. Even though it was just for lunch, Cilan had prepared two vegetable dishes, an egg dish that remained one of Iris’s favourites, and had baked a loaf of bread fresh. She smiled at Cilan and thanked Arceus for giving her husband the gift of good cooking.

While she herself was normally content with some fresh fruit and the traditional foods from her village, Iris could not deny that Cilan’s cooking was delicious. He had lived in a restaurant his whole life as the Striaton City Gym Leader and it had clearly turned him, and all of his siblings, into wonderful cooks. By the way Trip was digging into the meal as well, Iris knew he had no complaints.

“How was the event?” she finally asked, curiosity winning out.

Trip glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “About what was expected. Wallace is a brilliant orator and Max certainly appeared to be a strong pick for the Elite Four.”

Trip had been in Hoenn covering the ascension of Max Maple, a close friend of Ash’s, to a member of Hoenn Elite Four. Iris had been hesitant to send Trip, a League photographer for the Unova region to cover the event, but Wallace had requested the best in all of Napaj so that he might give Max the best publicity possible. Still, it was almost a vacation for Trip, something she wished he would take more often, so she had conceded and sent him over.

Their conversation was interrupted as the trio heard the front door bang open. Cilan and Trip both rose from the table and Iris gripped a Pokéball out of reflex. It wasn’t an unwelcome intruder after all, as Georgia strode into the kitchen, looking relaxed and bored. She took in the scene and rolled her eyes.

“If you don’t want me to walk in, don’t schedule a meeting with me and leave the front door unlocked,” she drawled sarcastically.

Cilan sank back into his seat and Iris slid Haxorus’s Pokéball away. Trip remained slightly more on edge, and Iris recalled the last time Trip and Georgia had interacted and had to force herself not to laugh at the memory.

“Anyways,” Georgia said, striding across the kitchen and sitting in the fourth chair at the table. “This was on your doorstep.” She handed the offending item to Iris and Iris’s eyebrows rose.

It was an envelope that resembled the official Pokémon League ones used to send out notifications of official business. Iris blinked in surprise and turned it over so that she could see the address. It was clearly for her and Cilan and by the handwriting alone, Iris knew it was from Ash. Indigo Champion he may have been, good handwriting he did not have.

“It’s from Ash,” she elaborated for Cilan and Trip who could not see the envelope.

She broke the seal and slid the letter out. The front of the card had curving, elegant handwriting that was clearly not Ash’s, and Iris stared at it. Cilan, who had leaned over to watch her open it, recoiled similarly. She opened it and saw more writing and information inside the card which was thankfully printed by who Iris assumed to be Misty, not Ash.

Trip coughed politely and the Unovan couple exchanged a look and Iris folded the card again. “It’s from Ash and Misty,” she amended.

“That’s one of his Elite Four members right?” Trip asked, confirming.

“Yes,” Georgia filled in. As a member of the Unova Elite Four, she was familiar with the elites across the other regions of Napaj.

“They’re getting married,” Cilan said finally. Trip and Georgia both appear stunned. Cilan laughed, brushing his hand against Iris’s. “Honestly I don’t even know if they were really dating. They were together in a lot of ways I suppose, and now I guess they’re just solidifying that fact.”

Iris touched the envelope, frowning slightly. “I know Misty, and I know Ash. They’re both spontaneous people, but it is Ash, and I would think he would want a bigger wedding with all the connections that he has.” Trip leaned back in his chair. “Well, if he’s the Indigo Champion marrying a member of the Indigo Elite Four. He’s invited the Unova Champion and her husband,” he looked at them both pointedly before continuing, “and I imagine he’s invited the Sinnoh Champion and his wife as well. Plus, we all know Ash has tons of other famous friends. Just because it’s sudden, doesn’t mean it will be low profile.” Georgia gave a low whistle. “Something this big, a Champion getting engaged, should have already burst into the media. I wonder why it hasn’t.” Cilan took Iris’s hand and squeezed it. “I imagine they’ve already informed the major news sources and are putting a hold on the information until they’ve received personal congratulations from their friends. That’s what Iris and I did.”

“And you think Ash is smart enough to think of that?” Trip asked, sounding amused.

“No,” Iris agreed. “Ash isn’t, but Misty is. And she hates the paparazzi, so I would expect something exactly like this from her.”

May’s phone rang suddenly, rattling the table and drawing the gaze of her, Drew, and Solidad. Drew raised an eyebrow at May.

“Are you going to answer it?”

His words seemed to restart her system and he watched, amused, as she jolted and scooped up her phone, answering the call. He made eye contact with Solidad who took a sip of her coffee to hide her amusement.

“Hello?” May greeted into the phone. “Max?” she said after a brief second.

Drew was surprised. Max was currently drowning in paperwork and the press after being officially elevated to the Hoenn Elite Four. May and her brother had been in brief contact lately, but not much since he was so busy. The last time they’d seen Max in person, he had been hiding out in their house after his own apartment in Ever Grande had been mobbed with the press following his announcement as the new Elite Four member.

Drew studied May’s face. Her brows knit together as she listened to her brother talk, but she suddenly burst into a wide happy grin that lit up her whole face. “That’s fantastic news!” she cheered happily.

Drew exchanged another look at Solidad, but the older coordinator was just as clueless as he was. He resolved to simply wait for May to finish the phone call. Thankfully, it appeared that whatever news Max had to share was limited to whatever made May so excited because she ended her call shortly after, still grinning.

“So?” Drew prompted as May slipped her phone back into her purse.

“Apparently Max received a very interesting piece of mail from a good friend of ours today. I’m sure we’ll have a similar card waiting for us at home,” May explained.

Drew pondered her words. “May, literally all of our friends are already married. Who else is getting married?” He had automatically assumed marriage because the last time she had been this excited was when Leaf and Gary, friends through Ash, had finally gotten married almost two months ago.

May’s smile widened. “Not all of our friends,” she teased.

Drew raised an eyebrow. “There’s no way that Ash actually figured out his life enough to propose. He might be the Indigo Champion, but there is no way that he has got his head screwed on straight enough for this to be happening.”

“Maybe she proposed to him,” Solidad joked, but she appeared just as interested as Drew was.

May shrugged. “All Max said was that they sent out the invites and that the date is set for September 7.” She took a sip of the hot chocolate on the table in front of her, still smiling.

“And you’ll still be okay to travel then?” Solidad asked, raising an eyebrow briefly at May.

May waved off her concern. “I’m not due until November, so it’s fine. I can’t miss Ash’s wedding. This has been a long time coming.” Solidad shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

Drew gave May a careful glance. “This might even work in our favour. The Indigo Champion getting engaged to his own Elite Four member might steal the media attention away from us for a while.” May perked up at the mention. “Arceus, that would be amazing!” Solidad laughed at the couple. “You hid it for four months, so as far as they’re concerned, they have four months of Hoenn Coordinating Royalty content to make up.” Drew sighed. The media had hounded him and May relentlessly since they were teenagers. At first, it was all speculation and it had been really quite annoying. After they started dating for real, it had become intrusive and irritating on a larger scale. That only multiplied once they were engaged and had climaxed at their wedding when a photographer for Coordinator’s Weekly was discovered lurking around by security and removed from the premises.

When he and May had announced that they were expecting, four months into the pregnancy, the media had gone insane and even two months after that fact still did not leave them alone wherever they went. In fact, there was a woman a couple tables away that kept trying to be discrete in her photographing of the trio of coordinators. She was not subtle, but neither Solidad or Drew could be bothered to tell her off and May simply hadn’t noticed.

“I’m just happy for them,” May reiterated.

Solidad smiled. “How long have they been together?” May laughed. “Honestly none of us can say if they were ever really dating. They’ve always cared for each other, and that turned to love at some point, but Ash was always Ash. He was completely oblivious to her feelings for quite some time. It’s a wonder he ever figured it out.”

“Hey, May,” Drew called, teasing his wife. “You haven’t got much room to laugh at Ash there considering I gave you roses for almost 4 years before you finally figured it out.” May pouted. “You said they were for Beautifly.”

Solidad burst out laughing and Drew smirked. He leaned over and kissed May on the cheek which lessened her pout, but she still clung to it stubbornly.

“I love you,” he reminded her. His admission cracked her and she smiled again. “I love you too,” she relented.

Solidad shook her head. “And you two wonder why the press doesn’t leave you alone anymore.”

May shrugged. “We’re kind of used to it at this point. As long as it never hits the point it did at our wedding again I think we’ll be okay.” “Besides,” Drew said, “with Max as an Elite Four member now, there’s no telling if May will still be the most popular member of the Maple Family anymore.” May looked mildly offended and Drew chuckled. “He’s single, May,” he reminded. “And a trainer of elevated status. He’ll have a fanbase soon enough.” May’s smile turned a little mischevious. “You would know about fanbases wouldn’t you, Mr. Fangirl.” Drew groaned. “Please, let’s not go there.” “Oh how they used to follow you everywhere! So condescending to competition when you won, and depressed and mopey when you lost,” Solidad teased.

Drew glared at her. “You are both the worst.” This time May leaned over and pecked him on the lips. “You married me and we like Solidad.”

Delia Ketchum was humming to herself as she spun the sponge against the dishes before handing them off to Mr. Mime so that he could rinse them and place them in the drying rack. With just the two of them, there weren’t many dishes, but they still tackled them together like they always had. Whenever she had guests over, they always tried to help clean up since Delia insisted on cooking, but she let Mr. Mime deal out the rejections in that field. The cooking and the cleaning was always done by the two of them and no matter how many pleading looks Leaf or Misty gave, no one else was taking over.

Just as she was handing off the last of the plates, the doorbell rang. Mr. Mime glanced at Delia and visibly shrugged. Delia just smiled and shook her head. It was probably just one of the neighbourhood kids again, but she ought to check. She removed her yellow gloves and placed them next to the sink. She crossed the kitchen and living room and headed to the main entrance of her house.

A series of knocks sounded from the door and Delia was surprised: maybe it was something urgent. She opened the door and was mildly surprised to see a very concerned looking Leaf Oak on her doorstep with her husband hovering just behind her. Thankfully, Gary looked more amused than concerned and Delia knew it was not super serious.

“Delia,” Leaf began suddenly, raising a very familiar envelope up to eye level, “what is this?”

Everything clicked in her mind and Delia laughed. “I believe it is exactly what it says it is.”

Leaf glanced at the envelope, observing the thick, high-quality paper and the less than neat writing that topped it. “But, how?” Gary laughed, stepping forwards and tucking an arm around Leaf’s waist. “I believe, darling wife, that it happened the very same way that it happened with us: me, on one knee, and you, wearing the ring.”

Leaf smacked Gary with the envelope. “Not what I meant, stupid.”

Delia smiled at the couple. “Would you like some tea? I’ll have Mimey put on the kettle and perhaps I can answer a few more of your questions.” Leaf sighed and removed Gary’s arm from her waist. “I would love to sit down, and I have so many questions.”

Delia opened the door wider and led the young couple into her home. Neither Leaf nor Gary was biologically related to her, but she felt as if they were part of her family. When Gary’s parents and Leaf’s mother had passed in a tragic accident when they were young, Professor Oak, Leaf’s father, and Delia had tag-teamed in raising Leaf, Gary, and Ash. Subsequently, Leaf and Gary had spent a lot of their childhoods eating at Delia’s kitchen table or playing in her backyard.

Like a proud mother, she had cried when Leaf and Gary had announced their engagement and again at their wedding. They’d only been married close to a month and a half, but they had been engaged for two years before that, having started dating at 17. Due to work restraints for both of them, they’d only recently gone on and arrived back from their honeymoon and Delia hadn’t seen them since they got home. The remnants of a healthy tan clung to Gary while Leaf had an extra spattering of freckles across her nose.

The pair followed her into the kitchen and sat down as Delia politely asked Mr. Mime to turn on the kettle. Leaf was still turning over the envelope in her hands, staring at it in confusion. Delia sat next to her and placed a hand over the young woman’s.

“You have read it, haven’t you?” “Of course,” Leaf replied. “They were clear enough about the date and the location and I’ve been in contact with Misty about bridesmaids already, but I’m still so confused.”

Delia laughed. “Well, let me help with that. What about it is confusing?” Gary stretched in the chair and asked a question before Leaf could: “Were they dating at all or did Misty just snap and tell him they were going to get married?” Delia, recalling Ash’s embarrassed story, pressed a knuckle to her lip to halt a short laugh. “Well, they were kind of dating in their own way, as much as Ash could manage anyways, but I’m not sure it was ever established in the way most relationships are, because, well,” she paused, not quite sure how to put her son’s eccentricity into words.

“Because he’s Ash,” Gary suggested, filling in the blanks.

Delia shrugged. While a basic definition, it certainly wasn't wrong. There just wasn’t anyone quite like Ash.

“Can they do this? I mean, Misty’s in the Elite Four and Ash is the Champion. Are they allowed to do this?” Leaf asked.

Delia shrugged. “I’m not concerned about it because I know they’ve been through enough together that they wouldn’t be concerned about League rules. Besides, everyone knew they were best friends when Ash was attempting his League challenge three years ago and they knew that it wasn’t a conflict of interest then, so I don’t suppose it should be now.”

“But why just decide to get married like that?” Leaf pressed, obviously still confused.

“I suppose for them it was a combination of seeing all their other friends married and engaged and realizing they loved each other enough that they didn’t need four years of dating and two years of engagement first when they had thirteen years of friendship,” Delia explained.

Leaf blinked as Delia addressed her and Gary’s long engagement. It had been the result of both of them pursuing PhDs during that period, but they had been together for a long time. “I guess that makes sense,” she murmured. Leaf slid the card out of the envelope and looked at the date. “Why September?”

Delia smiled. “The date Misty fished him out of the river when they met.” Gary and Leaf both laughed.

“Well,” Gary drawled, “maybe he’s not completely hopeless after all. She did say yes.”

“I win!” Misty cheered as she slapped down her last card victoriously. She smirked at Ash.

Ash groaned and placed his last three cards on the table so that they could count up his penalties. Misty’s smirk widened as she tallied the points and Pikachu let out a tittering laugh from his perch atop one of the counters where he was enjoying a treat. Ash stared at his partner, feeling betrayed.

“Don’t you side with her too,” he complained. Pikachu just rolled over, content to ignore his trainer.

Misty leaned over the table and pinched Ash’s cheek. “I won, Mr. Pokémon Master. Pikachu’s just agreeing that I’m the better one of the two of us.” Ash gently swatted Misty’s hand away. She leaned back, still smirking. Ash leaned forwards instead and just straight up kissed her. Misty stiffened in surprise briefly before she let her hand cup his jaw and she reciprocated the action. Ash drew back after a moment, slightly breathless, but smiling.

“Right, but who’s the Champion again?” he asked teasingly.

Misty rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You beat me once. It won’t happen again, I promise. Still,” she mused, “I think I can find enough sympathy in myself to play another round if you’re desperate for pity points.”

Warmth curled in Ash’s stomach. He loved moments like these when no one was watching and they were able to let loose. It was rare for them since Misty was a member of the Indigo Elite Four and Ash was the Champion. There were hardly ever moments of peace for them like this and they deserved to be treasured when they could.

Misty’s palm cupped her chin as she leaned her elbow on the table and smirked at Ash again. The ring on her finger, the one Delia had painstakingly picked out after hours of searching, glinted on her finger and Ash was happy to see it. It looked like it belonged and it certainly felt like it did.

Ash’s decision, a stupidly impulsive one, had been, in retrospect, completely out of the blue for most people. Ash and Misty had never officially labelled their relationship before that moment, but it wasn’t like there was nothing there. When he turned 19, Ash had finally started reading into Misty’s actions a little differently. They had basically dated without the labels for years, but Ash had been unable to recognize it until other people, like May and Dawn and Misty’s sisters, spelt it out for him.

Ash himself was 23 and Misty was almost 24. He had figured he didn’t have much to lose, so he had gone to his mother for advice. Delia had been overjoyed and amused and a bunch of other emotions, but she had promised her few tears were happy ones. Ash knew he loved Misty and he loved her differently from the way he loved May and Dawn and Brock. Delia had been the one to pick out the ring in the end, and Ash had done the rest by proposing over a casual dinner at Misty’s apartment.

He had stumbled over the words and made a complete fool out of himself. Misty was always better with her emotions, however, and she bailed him out by kissing him to get him to shut up and answering the question he had been unable to articulate with a resounding ‘yes’.

“Hello? Earth to Ash?” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Still with me?”

Ash grinned. “Always.”

Following their very sudden engagement, they had had a very candid discussion about a wedding and had decided together that they wanted it to be as small as possible. It wasn’t super realistic considering both of their positions, but it was a hope. They also wanted as little media there as possible. The nightmarish results of the photographer that had snuck into May and Drew’s wedding reminded them that no press was indeed good press.

Following an example set by Iris and Cilan when they were engaged, Misty had written a short statement to the Pokémon News Network and asked them to hold it until they were ready. Ash and Misty had written the invitations by hand quickly and Misty didn’t wear her ring in public until they were sent out. She actually even held off wearing it until they had received most of the personal congratulatory messages and RSVPs for the wedding. At that point, they had allowed PNN to release the statement and Misty had worn the ring out in public.

Neither Misty nor Ash wanted a big wedding anyway. It was more for their friends and family.

Still, nights like these, where they’d put away all the wedding stuff so they didn’t stress, were nice.

Ash reached across the table and flicked Misty’s hair. He also snagged the deck of cards and retreated back to his seat. He shuffled it as she’d taught him. Misty laughed and tried to grab the cards back, but Ash grabbed her outstretched hand instead and pressed a kiss to the top of it.

She smiled softly at him and then Ash got a wicked idea. He held her hand loosely and turned it over so he was looking at her palm. He lifted it up again, but instead of kissing it, he dragged his tongue across it, licking it childishly.

“Ew!” Misty squealed. She recoiled, snatching her hand away and rubbing her palm against her jeans. “That was so immature, Ash Ketchum!”

Ash grinned. “What are you going to do about it?”

Misty pushed her chair back and stood up. “You’re going to eat those words,” she promised.

Ash laughed and sprung up from the table. He took off running for the living room and made it almost across the room before Misty’s arms wrapped around his waist and they tumbled to the couch together. Misty landed on top of him and Ash squirmed so that he was holding her in his arms.

They were both laughing and Ash felt happy. This was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life and he suddenly just wanted it to be official.

“Let’s get married!” he blurted. His outburst clearly surprised Misty because she stiffened. She blinked at him. “You already asked me to marry you once. We still have three weeks, Ash.”

“No, like, right now!” he insisted. “I know it’s a thing that people do when they just go to a courthouse and get married. I don’t need some fancy ceremony or expensive cake. I just want to be with you.”

Misty looked slightly taken aback, but she smiled at him broadly after a moment. “Ash not needing a cake? That’s a first.” They both laughed, but Misty leaned forwards and pecked him on the lips. “Honestly, I’ve never wanted a big wedding and if you wanted, I’d marry you in a PokéCentre.”

“So,” Ash said, “screw the wedding?”

Misty laughed and rested her head against his chest. “Only we would get engaged without technically dating and then plan a wedding only to give up and get married three weeks earlier in a courthouse, but you know what? I’d love to marry you, Ash Ketchum, so let’s get married!”

Ash grinned. “I love you.”

Misty kissed him again and it was a little deeper and for a little longer. “I love you too,” she confessed when she pulled back. “But, unfortunately, we are probably going to have to wait until tomorrow since it’s kind of late tonight.” Ash shrugged. “Fine by me. I can beat you in Kart Racers in the meantime!”

Misty raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you are so on!” She rolled off of him so they were lying next to each other before they both lunged for the gaming controllers to turn the console on.

The press–and all of their friends–were going to have a field day, but honestly? Ash and Misty couldn’t have cared less.

45 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 7 years

Text

Student Council Prez [17]

Episode 16 - Episode 17 - Episode 17.5 - Episode 18 Words: 6.1k Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, High School!Au

You’re mopping as usual, something you’ve done a million times by now. But this time, you begin to break a giant sweat...the main cause? His unwavering gaze practically burning holes into your back.

“You’re the worst.” You grunt out with a pout, turning on your heels. Yoongi doesn’t respond, still sitting on the stairs with his arm propped up on his knee, chin in his hand as he continues to stare at your ensemble. After a moment of scanning you from head to toe, he breaks out in another grin. “Ugh...pervert.”

“Hey.” He deadpans. “You look great, okay?”

“You’re the worst.” You repeat, moving back to mopping and biting back your tongue from the endless curses ready to stream out.

It had all started when Taehyung brought a box of costumes and cosplaying outfits to the council room. The theater club was throwing a whole bunch out since their closet was getting too full and they had a shipment of new items. As Jimin and Jungkook dug around in interest and threw some clothes onto the table, you caught Yoongi pinching a maid outfit with his fingers, his eyes glistening in curiosity.

Immediately you barked a ‘no’ before he could even ask. The day you wore a maid outfit in front of Yoongi or anyone for that matter, you’d rather go to hell. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend was relatively crafty and kept the outfit anyway. A few days later when you broke a vase, that you swore that was never there before, he handed you the outfit as compensation. Though luckily for you, you had also kept a police uniform that you wanted him to wear but like you, he had refused; so now the both of you were in costumes.

Little did you know, the vase was bought at the dollar store.

The maid outfit was black and white, fairly cute and not revealing in the least bit, though you weren’t quite sure what it looked like when you bent down. But the outfit was more so a black dress with a white apron over top of it; white straps, a white sash and a white skirt, frills lining the bottom and the sleeves with a white bow at the back. There was even a frilly, white headband on your head to match and you were sure Yoongi was enjoying it too much. Every time you caught him in your peripheral vision, though his eyes were blank and following you, there was a slight smirk on his lips.

Despite it all, he looked good in his own outfit and you couldn’t muster up any anger. It was like a military officer uniform, black jacket with badges that made his shoulders broder and an official hat that sat on his head. It was a manly uniform that made him look authoritative but it greatly contrasted with his cute pouty lips and the roundness of his cheeks; his natural and innocent looking face that you knew better than to trust.

You couldn’t help staring at him as much as he stared at you.

“You know…” Yoongi speaks up. “I really wanted to make you wear this sort of uniform when you first started to come here.”

You scoff. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I know you probably would’ve punched me in the face.”

“You’re right.” You smirk. “I would’ve.”

“You look really good though.” He remarks in a soft exhale.

You roll your eyes before putting your hands on your hips and cocking your head to one side. “Do you have a thing for maids?”

“Not particularly.” He says, still staring at you with fluttering eyes. “You just look good in anything.”

You open your mouth to sharply retort but his words ring inside your head once more and you’re speechless, face rising with heat. You turn away quickly, continuing to mop and Yoongi grins at how flustered you are. “Or maybe nothing at all…” He mutters.

“Hey!”

“You know..” Yoongi begins again, ignoring your offended expression. “I really need a photo of this.”

“What?”

He gets up from the stairs. “I think my camera’s in my room.”

“A camera?!”

Before you can protest, he’s already turned up the stairs and you shake your head with a sigh and a small smile.

Suddenly out of nowhere, the doorknob of the front door jangles. It twists and turns wildly, in all different directions. You freeze, not aware of anyone who has access to his house. Your mind races with whom it could possibly be that’s intruding. The doorknob jangles louder and louder.

You grip the mop handle tight, ready to use it as a weapon to hit the potential burglar. “Yoongi…” You shout from the corner of your mouth.

Just then the door bursts open and you’re an ice statue, half a step from lifting the mop up.

In front of you stands two women, both decked out in expensive jewelry and fur coats; one with grey locks and the other, a gorgeous woman with her hair tight in a bun. “Yoongi, dear?”

She calls out inside the house before her eyes land on you. “Who. are. you?”

They step inside, a suited man following after them and carrying their luggages silently. They both stare at you, scrutinizing your skin from head to toe as you’re gaping, mouth open like a fish out of water. The older lady crosses her arms, lifting a brow up at you. The middle aged woman oddly resembles Yoongi, cold eyes and an emotionless expression.

You manage to cough out the first thing that you can think of. “I’m Yoongi’s………………………………………………………….....housemaid.”

They both visibly relax, the older woman smiling. “Oh. I see, so he got a maid. That’s quite responsible of him.”

“Well, keep on doing what you’re doing.” The middle aged lady waves her hand at you. “Hurry up. Don’t just stand there.”

“John, just leave the luggage there.” The older lady says as she points to the foyer of the house. “Go take a rest, we just came back from an entire day’s flight.”

You’re cringing with shut eyes, knuckles turning white as you wonder what the hell is going on. You’re not quite sure why you lied or why you’re staying silent. On any regular day, you would’ve demanded answers but you can’t help but feel intimidated and tiny in their presences, like if you make a wrong move or even glance at them, they’ll rip your hair out. So, you continue to mop, slowly moving to the door to try to slip out unnoticed - until someone’s voice pierces through the air.

“Mom? Grandmother?” Yoongi stands at the bottom of the stairs with his camera dangling in his hand, staring like he can’t believe his eyes. “Wh-what are you doing back?”

His grandmother approaches him with big strides and engulfs her grandson in her arms. “Oh~ It’s been so long! Min Yoongi, my favourite grandson! Have you eaten? How are you? Are you doing well? Where’s your hyung and dad?”

His mother smiles, a smile that is strikingly similar to his. “And why are you wearing that ridiculous uniform?” She presses a quick kiss to his cheek and he blinks his eyes.

“I don’t know where hyung is,” is the first thing that Yoongi manages to mutter.

“That boy.” His grandmother says in a scolding, rough voice. “Always makes trouble.”

“And your father?” Yoongi’s mother quirks a brow. “Is he sleeping in that goddamn school?!” When Yoongi doesn’t reply, still stunned at the appearance of both his family members, his mother takes it as a ‘yes’. “My stupid godforsaken husband…”

Yoongi finally cranes his neck towards you and the both of you stare at each other with furrowed brows, at an absolute loss for words. It’s almost like he’s apologizing with his eyes, wanting to whisk you away and explain. But his mother follows his line of sight when he grows quiet and she snaps at you. “What are you standing there for, maid? Get to work!”

“Wait.” Yoongi frowns. “What did you just call her?”

His grandmother smiles, squeezing him quickly again. “I can’t believe you were responsible enough to get yourself a housekeeper! Has she been doing well? Where did you hire her? She looks awfully young.”

“No. No.” Yoongi shakes his head, walking up to you in a few steps. He boldly takes your hand between his, fingers interlacing before you can pull away.

The mop falls to the floor in a clank. “She’s not my maid or housekeeper.”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

Tension fills the dining room table as the Min family have gathered together once again, a reunion of sorts that Yoongi didn’t expect to have. His grandmother sits at the front of the table with her arms crossed, his father and mother sitting in the next seats across from each other; his father looking guilty as charged and mother angry, huffing out in disbelief every so often. Yoongi is seated next to his father, wearing a blank expression.

“Haven’t you heard what your son’s been up to?” Yoongi’s mother pipes up with a quirk of her brow. “You were sleeping in that goddamn school closet like a psycho. Did you lie to me every time I called?”

“Honey~”

“Don’t honey me!” She retorts sharply. “Your son here...your son here is dating-”

“Y/N.” He smiles.

She scoffs. “So you know of her?!”

“Of course.” He nods with pouted lips. “She’s our scholarship student.”

“A scholarship student?” Yoongi’s grandmother frowns. “So she’s poor?”

“She’s an extremely bright young girl.” His father states in a matter-of-fact tone.

“That’s not the problem here!’ His wife spits back at him and before Yoongi even has a chance to say anything, the front door suddenly slams open. It hits against the wall and shuts from the motion, quick padded footsteps coming closer and closer.

“Is grandmother really dead?”

Yoongi’s older brother, Yongho comes running into the dining room, breathless as he scans each person. His shoes are still on, face ragged with an untrimmed beard and hair an absolute mess - some might even believe he’s been hibernating all winter or a caveman transported to the future. Even in the tense atmosphere, Yoongi can’t help but smile at his older brother, having not seen him in over a year.

“You wish I was dead.” Their grandmother turns around in the front chair, glaring into his eyes. “The only way you’ll come back is if I’m dead, huh?”

Yongho in exasperation and relief, collapses against the wall and slides down to the ground, still gasping for air like he just ran a marathon. “Wh-why...I thought you died!”

“Grandson...I’m not dying for a long while.” She says fiercely. “Especially when this Min household is in so much turmoil!”

Yoongi looks at his brother and they both grin, Yongho tiredly waving. Their mother takes a good look at them both before scoffing.

Yongho had always been an eccentric child - a bit disobedient which only put their grandmother in distress as he was the oldest child. It was made evident since he was young that he had no intentions of inheriting anything from the Min family or the businesses and he eventually dug his own path towards the fashion industry. The family found him a disgrace and cut all ties until he became widely successful, multiple chain stores in different countries and practically a millionaire with his own two feet and two hands over the course of five years. They started accepting him back into the family but he still kept his distance, remembering the days when he had nothing but discouragement from them.

Against it all, the two brothers were always close and remained that way; both allies in a rigid family - aside from their father of course, who had always been a free spirit. But in family issues, he never said much and stayed in the middle of things, treading carefully like an invisible turtle.

“When are you leaving again?” Youngho asks after he can breathe normally again, pulling a chair beside his mother. “Why did you even come back? I thought living abroad was going well.”

His mother scoffs. “We just came back and you’re already telling us to leave?! I can stay here if I want. You’re still rude and unmannerly as an adult.”

Yongho sighs lethargically, slumping over the table. “Then can you at least tell me why you called me here? I really don’t like getting fake calls of family members dying in the middle of the day.”

His father laughs, a rambunctious noise emitting from his chest like it’s the funniest joke he heard all day. “But isn’t it nice for the Min family to be rejoined?”

“So nice…” Yoongi mutters under his breath with crossed arms.

“We came back to check on you all.” Their grandmother huffs out. “And good thing we did. One man’s sleeping at his workplace in a closet, the other is god knows running around the streets-”

“I run my own business.” Yongho interjects.

She ignores him. “And the other is affiliated with some girl, tainting our family name and being used for our money-”

“She’s not some girl.” Yoongi deadpans and it becomes silent. Unlike his brother, he’s never been disrespectful enough to use that tone of voice or interrupt his older family members.

Everyone turns to Yoongi and Yongho’s eyebrow quirks in interest.

Yoongi stands up, the chair scraping against the floor. He begins walking away before turning with a clear voice...

“I’m going to marry her one day.”

Yoongi reassures you that everything is fine but unlike his words, he broods with a permanent scrunch between his brows that your kiss can't even solve. He doesn't speak, staring impassively at documents and during council meetings no one can tell if he's even listening.

He's not.

But no one puts it against him, a bit fearful as they walk on eggshells. The members do urge you to talk to him, knowing that Yoongi couldn't hold anything against you, whatever the problem was.

“So..” You break the silence and he looks up from the files, the both of you alone in the room. “Are your parents staying at home for awhile?”

He visibly stiffens, making a humming noise at the back of his throat and his eyes avoid yours.

A frustrated puff of air falls from your lips and you leap over the table, both your palms pressing against his cheeks. His mouth squishes together in fish lips and he finally looks at you. “Min Yoongi. Tell me what’s wrong, right. now.” You demand in a stern voice.

He pushes your hands away, sighing slightly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

You stare at him with a displeased expression, knowing full well that he’s lying. He glances at you for a moment and looks down again but when he realizes that you’re not letting up, he finally gives up. “Fine okay. I just…” There’s a long silence and he moans out frustratedly. “I want you to come over for dinner.”

“For dinner?” He nods and you frown. “With your entire family?” You clarify and he nods again with closed eyes.

It’s beyond doubt that you didn’t make a good impression with his family; being found in a maid outfit with a mop or that time you stormed into Yoongi’s father’s office, demanding to be withdrawn from the school. In your entire life, you hadn’t ever lacked confidence, relying on your sharp tongue and brute strength. If anyone said anything otherwise, you would’ve given them a punch straight to the jaw or stealthily planned for their demise. But you couldn’t do that to Yoongi’s parents and you couldn’t help feeling so small in their scrutiny.

It was true - you had close to nothing but your siblings and the clothes on your back. You have never been ashamed of that fact, rather taking pride in how you stepped up and took responsibility for everything. But you and Yoongi belonged in different worlds. He lived in luxury, without even batting an eye at his bank accounts and even if he failed in his studies, there would be other ways for him to reach success. You and him were so different in so many ways. But you in your stubbornness, refused to let any of that affected your relationship with him; refused to let it build a gap or bridge. You cared about him too much to give up.

“It doesn’t matter.” He huffs out, looking at you with a worried expression. “I just...want them to see how great you are.”

You know no matter what Yoongi said, it still meant a lot to him. “Okay.” You answer after thinking. “I’d love to.”

You’ve stood in front of his house countless times before, having cleaned and seen every single nook and cranny, yet the unease still swirls in the pits of your stomach. You take a deep breath before Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours. He offers a sweet smile of reassurance. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

“I really hope so.” You answer quietly before the both of you enter.

It doesn’t take long for everyone to get settled down, all already at the dinner table with the dishes getting served right on time. Yoongi’s grandmother sits at the front, on both her sides are Yoongi’s parents and beside his father is someone not quite old but rather young. “Yongho.” He introduces himself with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smile. You notice how notably similar he is to his father, a bit eccentric and energetic.

But not much is said when the air is heavy with tension and Yoongi beside you can only soften his eyes in another attempt of comfort. You pick at your food for a moment at the silent table, it’s steak and salad, world’s better than you could ever make or afford to buy but your appetite has long dissolved into nausea.

“What do your parents do?” Yoongi’s mother asks as she slices the meat with a sterling knife.

“They’ve passed away.” Yoongi answers.

Yoongi’s grandmother looks up at the answer while his mother raises an eyebrow, meeting her son’s eyes. “I think she can answer for herself. I asked her not you.” She then turns to you while sipping her wine. “My condolences.”

“Thank you…” You mumble.

“Do you have any siblings?” She asks.

“Two. They’re younger than me.”

“Then who do you live with?”

You swallow hard. “It’s just me and my siblings.”

“You take care of them alone?”

“Yes. I have full custody of them.”

“Oh.” She says with an emotionless expression that you can’t decipher, taking another sip of her drink. The atmosphere begins to even feel darker and you can feel the annoyance wafting off of Yoongi at how she’s interrogating you. You shoot him a look when he’s about to open his mouth.

“How did you meet Yoongi?” Yongho asks curiously with a grin, making you more calm.

Yoongi’s father suddenly roars with laughter and you’ll admit it’s strange seeing him without his work clothes on or having to call him Mr. Min. “Funny you should ask that. Actually I made him meet her.”

“You did...what now?” His wife frowns in disbelief.

He laughs for a second and then quiets down when his wife and his mother-in-law are staring bullets into his skin. “It’s a long story.”

“Yoongi was assigned to help me since I’m the scholarship student.” You nod, memories coming up full blast and you can’t help the small smile that raises on your lips; one on Yoongi’s too.

“I guess our relationship just blossomed from there.” Yoongi adds with a hint of greasiness that almost makes you scoff out loud but you manage to keep it in.

“I guess.” You scrunch your face up at him and only he knows that it’s an expression of distaste.

“But that doesn’t explain why she was in our house with a mop in that...outfit.” Yoongi’s grandmother pipes up in the middle of a bite and you freeze.

“What outfit?” Yongho asks with a frown.

There are a billion things you could say; that you and Yoongi were just playing around and that something spilled so you had to clean it up, that you reenacting scenes from Cinderella or you could even spout something like you and Yoongi had odd kinks. But what Yoongi decides to say is brutally honest and your mouth fills with cotton, speechless. His grandmother drops her fork, his older brother raises his brows, his mother’s jaw falls to the floor and even his father looks shocked.

“She’s my housemaid.”

Yoongi decides that there’s no reason in hiding anything, that it might come bite him back later. He’s not ashamed of how he got you in his life by any means. It could matter less to him.

“You pay her?” His grandmother says in a gasp, looking like she’s about to faint.

“Yoongi, do you pay for all her expenses?” His mother interjects with an angry tone.

Even you know it looks bad, wincing away while tightening your fists in your lap. You can only begin to imagine how they see you; a cunning and impoverished girl making use of their wealthy son, using him purely for his money and playing with his emotions. It couldn’t be farther from the truth but by the disgusted expressions they shoot you, any explanations die in your throat.

“Did you know about this?!” His mother sharply glares at his father.

“No.” He cocks his head to the side, looking amused. “I didn’t.”

“It’s not what you think it is.” Yoongi says, still eating nonchalantly as if it weren’t a big deal. “When we met, we made a contract together…”

“Stop it.” You whisper to him with a deepened knot between your brows but he ignores you.

“She needed a job so I gave her one.” He shrugs. “I don’t see what the big deal is. We got into a relationship much later.”

“Stop.”

“The problem is, is that you’re practically using money to satisfy her!” His mother scoffs, throwing her tablecloth napkin onto the table. She looks past you to her son as if you don’t exist. “She’s either going to suck you dry or leave once you stop giving her money! You’re being taken advantage of!”

You stand up abruptly, everyone turning to you as the chair scrapes on the floor. “Excuse me…” You stutter, keeping your head down low. “I’m going to the washroom.”

“Y/N!” Yoongi shouts after you as you quickly leave. He stands up, chasing after you without a second glance to the other members of his family.

You walk without looking back, straight ahead despite Yoongi relentlessly calling you. You’re fuming with anger at how they ridiculed you so easily, embarrassed that he revealed everything and upset with yourself at how much you actually care. But most of all, you’re in plain distress, not having any control of the situation and being at the mercy of their judgement.

It’s not just them and their criticisms but all the doubts you ever had about the relationship in your mind, heard out in the open for the first time.

The moment when you try to shut the bathroom door, Yoongi catches it with his hand and slides inside. “Y/N.”

“Just leave me alone.” You purse your lips together. “I just...need a moment.”

“Look at me.” He holds your hand. “And listen.”

Yoongi pulls you in an embrace, arms around your waist and your back, pressing his body against yours. You can’t help but feel significantly calmer with his warm touch. “I never once cared about your social status or wealth. I never cared and I will never care.”

“It doesn’t matter where you came from, who your parents are or how much money you have.” He says calmly, gently soothing you with his hand on your hair. “I don’t give a damn about any cooperation or any of their opinions. I just wanted you to meet them today.”

“Yoongi.”

“All I’ve ever cared about is…” He whispers. “...how clean you’ve made my house.”

You punch him lightly in the stomach and he chuckles, refusing to let you go. “Can you seriously joke at a time like this?” You huff out angrily.

He grins. “I felt like I was getting too sappy.”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but smile. “You were.”

Yoongi finally pulls away with pouty lips and a slight frown. “I’m serious.” He raises a brow. “I only give a shit about you.”

“Thank you. I’m honoured.” You laugh and he smiles.

Finally you feel at ease.

[Meanwhile….]

The dinner table is still silent, everyone picking at their foods meagerly until Yoongi’s father suddenly bursts into laughter at the thick tension in the air, making Yongho flinch at the sudden loudness. “What was that for?”

Everyone stares at him as he shakes his head and puts down the utensils. “It just reminds me of the first time I had to meet your mother’s family.” He sighs in reminiscence. “I remember being in that position.”

“It was different.” His wife sharply defends.

He simply laughs again. “How was it any different? I was so in love with you but I was nowhere near as wealthy as you were. I think we both know what it’s like to be in that situation.”

Her face grows grim for a moment, as if deeply contemplating.

It doesn’t take you long before the both of you arrive back at the dinner table, not taking your seats but rather standing hand in hand. Yoongi wears no emotion but disregard as you still stand nervously by his side but with more confidence; enough to face them.

You begin while feeling his hand tighten around yours. “It’s true that Yoongi pays me and I’ve been cleaning the house.”

“Really the first time I met Yoongi, I really hated him. But he broke all my expectations.” The more you talk, the more sure of yourself do you feel. And you turn to Yoongi, staring solely at his profile as you continue. “I thought he would be a wealthy snob who’d step all over me but he’s not...not in the least bit.” Your voice trails off softer.

Yoongi turns to meet your eyes. “He’s sweet and kind. And I really never thought that I could carry such feelings for him.” You can feel yourself getting overly emotional as he gazes into your orbs, feeling tears threaten to fall. “I lov-”

He covers your mouth quickly before you can finish your sentence. “Let’s not say such intimate things for the first time in front of my family.” He smiles gently before turning back to the members of his family. His brother has a shiteating grin, gushing over the two of you and his father wears a similar expression; not realizing that Yoongi had it in him this entire time to be such a romanticist.

Both his mother and grandmother don’t utter a single word, eyes still analyzing coldly and impassively. “I brought her here today not to get your approval or your blessing.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone. “I brought her to introduce to you a future member of the Min family.”

They look completely taken back with his words and your own eyes widen as big as saucers, slowly craning your neck around to him like a robot. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. This is the girl I’m going to marry.”

“Wait. WHA-?!”

Before you can even finish, he drags you away. The front door slams a few moments later.

His father laughs rambunctiously, utterly impressed. Yongho shrugs with a grin. “You almost lost a grandson before.” He speaks without looking at his grandmother. “You shouldn’t drive away another Min member.”

Everyone is still baffled.

But you think you and Yoongi, both have completely lost your minds together.

You’re walking alone, Yoongi having to head home alone and you take your time enjoying the peaceful quiet; something you hadn’t been able to have in a while after joining the rambunctious student council members. As you head out of the entrance of the school, humming pleasantly; you suddenly come to a halt, nearly tripping over the pavement.

There’s a large black car, sleek with tinted windows parked at the curb of the road. A man in a suit is resting on it, wearing dark sunglasses but you suppose he’s looking at you as he raises his head. He lifts his hand, pointing his finger and bending it, motioning for you to come. When you’re frozen, wondering if you should take off running in the opposite direction, he approaches.

“The madam would like to have a word.” He says calmly and drags you into the car. Before you can scream, the door shuts and any shout dies in your throat as you turn to face Yoongi’s grandmother.

She smiles, wrinkles crinkling around her eyes. “Lovely day, isn’t it dear?”

With the tinted windows, you wonder how she can even see outside. “I…..suppose so.”

You can’t help but wonder if she’s going to threaten you or maybe drive you away to some isolated unfamiliar location, beat you senseless with her men and then throw your body over a bridge. After paying the police off, they’ll call your death a suicide or accident and your siblings will be left to handle the funeral. Or maybe...she’ll not just threaten your life but Sohyun and Sungjae’s too.

The old lady sighs as she digs into her high end purse. “I’m sorry I called you so abruptly.”

A white envelope comes into sight and you inwardly groan. Believing that you’re only after Yoongi for his money, she’s probably going to hand you a wad of cash and tell you to disappear quietly. Maybe there’s a plane ticket in there too and she’ll make you hide abroad from him forever; demanding that you never show your face again.

Except as you think of a million scenarios from the dramas you’ve watched on television before, you least expect her to pull out a photo of Yoongi. But it’s not just any photo of Yoongi - it’s a baby photo of him, standing in front of an ice cream truck in tight suspenders, face red and scrunched up, in the middle of a hysterical tantrum sob.

Without realizing, you shift closer to her and there’s a tiny smile that raises on her lips as she watches you stare at it in wonderment. She also stares at it for a long moment, in deep reminiscence. “You know…” She begins and you finally manage to peel your eyes away from the adorable, more innocent Yoongi. “When he was a child, he was never really selfish or rude. He didn’t throw tantrums a lot either. This was one of the rarer moments. The pants was giving him a wedgie and he didn’t want ice cream or to take a photo.”

She chuckles, a similar chuckle to the one you adore very much. “What kind of child doesn’t want ice cream, I don’t know. But he was always very calm even when his hyung used to steal his toys away from him.”

The old lady puts the photo down and she looks right into your eyes, orbs that are warmer than you’ve seen them last. “The point is….and why I wanted to talk to you today was that I truly believe he cares tremendously about you. From the years I’ve seen him grow up into the young man he is now, he’s never been more spirited about anything. Never has he argued with his parents or raised his tone at me.”

“This doesn’t mean I will accept you into our family. I still have my suspicions about your motives for being with him…” She smirks. “But something tells me...call it my intuition, that he’s picked quite a lady to be with. I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t.” You answer as sincerely as you can.

“I don’t believe you will.” She chuckles. “I hope you won’t find any offence but I did do a couple background checks on you. You remind me a lot of my late husband and my son-in-law. They had nothing but yet they still stood up with more than I could ever have.” She shakes her head with another sigh. “The Min family has quite a history with marriage outside the societal norms.”

“Maybe we were cursed back then by witches.” She laughs, slapping her knee like it’s a terribly funny joke and you can only manage a stiff smile. “Believe me...I’ve brought exorcists to the house after Yoongi’s father showed up.” She laughs again, looking at you. “And that still didn’t do anything!”

You give her an expression of horror and she gives you a cynical snicker. “Come over some time and I’ll show you more photos. I’ll tell you stories too.” Yoongi’s grandmother leans in closely as if someone could overhear. “Yoongi’s probably hidden all his childhood photos out of embarrassment right?” You contemplate for a moment with a frown, realizing you hadn’t seen any in his house.

She chuckles. “Trust me when I say, he was the cutest child ever….but don’t tell Yongho that.”

When you get out of the car, her voice makes you stop halfway. “Oh and Y/N, bring your siblings along too sometime. I really love young children.”

You smile, feeling more put at ease after the entire conversation. “I will.”

“I hope you won’t disappoint me, child.” She whispers quietly but you catch it.

“I promise I won’t.” Your last words make the old lady beam with happiness. “I care about him too much.”

The house has been noisier than it’s ever been, some hired chefs in the kitchen making dinner for the family. His grandmother is scolding her secretary while redecorating the house, telling him to move the vase there; ‘Right there! No you missed it, you fool! Use your eyeballs! Right there!’. His mother is outside with the gardener, re-hedging the bushes that have long overgrown and his father is out on the street, making some conversations and laughing with the neighbors, coffee in hand.

With all the chaos, Yoongi takes refuge in the room his brother is staying at temporarily.

Yongho is on the bed, sketching out a new outfit on a clipboard while Yoongi throws an old bouncy ball against the wall, sitting at the foot of the bed. “When are you going back?”

“You missed me?” Yongho automatically teases.

He scoffs in response. “No. Just wondering so I sanitize the entire room and maybe burn it down. Wouldn’t want it to get affected by your lame germs.”

“Sorry younger brother.” He smiles goofily, reaching over to ruffle his hair until Yoongi slaps his hand away. “I have a business to run but we’ll still chit chat on the phone. I’ll call you every single day~ and now that I know you have a girlfriend, we can totally go on a double date sometime.”

Yoongi scowls. “You don’t have a date. You’ll be third wheeling.”

“Wow~ This kid’s words are painful!” He gasps dramatically. “I’ll have you know, just because I’m busy doesn’t mean I’m not still on the dating field!”

There’s a drawn out silence as Yoongi continues to bounce the ball, listening to the tree leaves rustle outside from the open window and the Yongho’s pencil scratching on the paper, making rough strokes with the lead.

“Hyung.”

“Hmm?”

He hesitates for a moment. “What do you think of Y/N?”

If there was anyone’s opinion that Yoongi remotely cared about, it was his older brother’s. He had good and clear insight. Yoongi trusted him and often came to him for advice on important matters; though he acts like he doesn’t care, still bouncing the ball against the wall nonchalantly.

Yongho grins, putting his pencil down and humming thoughtfully. “Honestly by first impressions, she’s a really interesting girl…”

“Right?” Yoongi agrees.

“She seems independent...strong and fiery.”

“You should see her when she’s angry.” Yoongi smiles so widely his cheeks hurt, mindlessly speaking as his brain switches purely to thoughts about you. “That girl has one sharp tongue. She’s really guarded but inside it’s the complete opposite.”

Yongho shifts closer, arm propped on his knee and chin rested in his hand as he listens closely with an amused smile. “She matches you well. She’s honestly beautiful.”

Yoongi scoffs, coming to stand on his feet. “She’s my girlfriend, you know. Not yours.”

“Well you asked for my opinion!” Yongho defends in a laugh.

Yoongi scrunches up his face, making his way to the door, secretly satisfied with his brother’s answers.

Yonho calls after him. “Where are you going?!”

“None of your business.” He lethargically turns the golden door knob but he stops halfway, mid-step. Yoongi turns with a sly smile, head tilted to one side with a lifted brow. “If you think she’s beautiful….”

“You should see her when she smiles.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #bts scenario #bts yoongi #this is so fluff I can't even #sad to say folks - we only got 2 chapters left #whoop

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