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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

Note

I totally stole this from one of those writing prompt blogs, but can you do Rhys and Feyre going to couples therapy together as a joke when they only just met?

Okay my love, I literally just finished writing this and haven't actually proofread it. It was meant to be silly and jokey but ended up being a bit more serious than I intended, but I'm a sucker for fake dating tropes so maybe I'll continue their story at some point. Anyway here's a modern Feyre and Rhys going to couples thereapy together (whilst not actually being a couple):

Feyre was absolutely determined to prove Nesta wrong. Usually her sister’s grating comments didn’t penetrate Feyre’s hardened demeanor at home, but something about their stint yesterday had thoroughly gotten under her skin. Nesta had a talent when it came to barbed words, so it was the casualness with which she’d said Feyre was boring and predictable that had kept the words ringing between Feyre’s ears. They lacked the usual bite and venom that was characteristic of Nesta, and somehow that made them impossibly worse.

Was Feyre a creature of habit? Sure. But she had always been content with her quiet, unassuming life. They’d grown up poor, with little luxury, and as a little girl Feyre had always believed all she’d need to be happy was paint supplies and enough time to get lost in a blank canvas. Feyre had that now, and she was happy. She spent almost every day in her studio, a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. And that was fine. She may not spend a lot of time with other people, but that was fine.

Routine is fine. Being focused on your career is fine. So why did the implication that her life is stagnant rile her up so much?

Feyre couldn’t articulate what, exactly, had bothered her so much, since she was perfectly happy with the current state of her life. Yet the next morning she’d woken up, vowing to take a day off and spend the whole day being entirely unpredictable.

She was going to pull a Jim Carrey in Yes Man. She was going to seize this damn day. And any voice in her mind that pleaded her to stick to her comfort zone was going to be diligently ignored.

When she set out to get her morning coffee, she ducked into the first cafe she came across without checking the reviews. And instead of ordering her usual chai latte, she asked the cashier to make her their favorite drink. She sat at a booth and sipped it experimentally. It was sweet and tasted of caramel; she decided she quite liked it. So far so good.

She sat wondering what brave venture she should do next, something that would be worthy of telling people about. Something so brash and crazy and unexpected Nesta would eat her stupid, truthful words.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

The voice was like smooth velvet. Feyre glanced up to meet a pair of eyes that were such a deep, peculiar shade of blue they almost looked violet. She was momentarily stunned speechless, which caused the impossibly handsome stranger to lift one of his perfectly groomed brows in question.

“Of course,” Feyre answered, her mouth feeling a bit dry. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to quell this strong reaction her body was having to this man.

She’d been expecting him to take the chair to sit elsewhere, but he slid into the chair at her table, directly across from her. Feyre spared a cursory glance around the cafe. Customers milled about, but there were plenty of empty seats strewn here and there. It was far from necessary to share a table with a stranger.

Her interest piqued, Feyre turned her attention back to this strange, alluring man.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. But today was about branching out of her comfort zone. Making the first move with an attractive man certainly qualified.

“Rhysand,” he answered with a charming grin, extending his hand into the space between them. Feyre accepted it with a mirrored smile, for a moment marvelling at the way his hand completely enveloped hers.

Feyre cleared her throat. “So tell me, Rhysand, what brings you to this table in particular?”

The way he wrinkled his nose was unfairly endearing. “Call me Rhys,” he said. “I only really use Rhysand in a business setting. And I chose this table in particular, because I saw a beautiful woman sitting here and was feeling especially forward.”

Feyre laughed in surprise. “Forward, indeed. Well, Rhys, I have spectacular news for you.”

“And what’s that, Feyre darling?” the suggestive tone to his voice sent shivers down her spine and instantly those warning bells in her mind were blaring. This man was too handsome and he was a complete stranger.

“I’ve decided to do something completely stupid and spontaneous today, and you’re officially invited to join me.”

Rhysand grinned, his eyes flickering with mischief at her proposal. She supposed that should be concerning, too, but she felt her pulse quicken. “And what stupid, spontaenous thing will we be doing, darling?”

Feyre leaned back, trying to regain composure by taking a too casual sip of her coffee. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m open to ideas.”

Across the cafe, a man stood up so quickly his chair tipped over with a loud thunk. Rhys and Feyre both whirled their heads at the commotion.

“This is why we need to go to therapy together!” the woman across from him screeched. “You can’t control your stupid temper!”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. “I’m not going to sit there for an hour so you can manipulate some dumb bitch into agreeing with you!”

“It’s not about sides,” she groaned. “I want to work through this with you!”

Feyre felt a tug of sympathy at the desperation in the woman’s voice. She could feel her pain and frustration second-hand, having been in similar shoes herself.

“Fuck this,” the man grumbled, storming for the door.

The woman followed after him. “Our appointment is in 10 minutes! Please, let’s just try it.”

The door swung shut behind them. Feyre watched the couple continue their walking argument down the city pavement, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Feyre sighed. “Man, that poor woman. It sounded like she really wanted to work things out.”

“That guy sounded like an absolute ass, maybe it’s for the best,” Rhys said. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned to Feyre with a slow, conspiring grin. “It does give me an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Feyre felt a bit intimidated by the roguish expression on his face, even if it did make her feel breathless.

“Well, I do happen to know there’s a psychiatrist's office right above this cafe. If I had to guess, that’s where our friends were going to have their first session. And from the looks of it,” he nodded towards the couple, who were now striding in opposite directions through the city, faces flushed with anger, “they won’t be attending.”

“And your point is…?”

“Let’s go in their stead. Make a game of it. First person to break character loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if I win, then I get to take you to dinner.”

Feyre considered for a moment. Dinner with a handsome man certainly didn’t sound like losing to her. “If I win, then I get to use you as a model.”

“You’re a photographer?” His brows rose in interest and Feyre summoned all her will power not to blush. Since when was she bashful about her career?

“Painter.”

Rhysand grinned. “If you win, you can use my body anyway you wish, Feyre darling. Nude would be best.”

And that was how Feyre had ended up in Dr. Suriel’s office, Rhys by her side on the sofa. It was perhaps the most adventurous thing she’d ever agreed to.

“So, Mr and Mrs Mandray. Apologies, I didn’t get your names on the forms.”

“I’m Feyre, this is my husband Rhys,” Feyre answered, thinking it lucky they didn’t have to guess at the mysterious couple’s forenames.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Feyre and Rhys. What brings you to my office today?”

Rhys immediately slipped into his role of the concerned husband. He placed his arm around Feyre’s shoulders and tugged her close. Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it, glancing at Feyre hesitantly.

“My wife and I have been getting into a lot of… disagreement lately,” Rhys answered carefully, and already Feyre thought this was going much better than it would have if the actual Mr Mandray had turned up.

“My husband,” Feyre said flatly, channeling her inner Nesta to put venom into the word. “Is insisting on painting our house purple.”

“I see,” Dr. Suriel says, assessing the displeasure on Feyre’s face. “And I’m assuming you want to paint the house a different color.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line. “See, that’s just the problem,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s exactly the color I would want to paint our house.”

Dr. Suriel frowned. “So you do want the house to be painted purple, as does your husband. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“No,” Feyre sighed. “He wants to paint the house blue, but is insisting we paint it purple, because he knows it’s what I want. This bastard refuses to be anything but accommodating.”

“We’re going to try to refrain from name-calling in my office,” Dr Suriel said calmly. “So, Feyre, you are clearly unhappy that Rhys wants to paint the house purple. What color would you paint it?”

“Blue,” she answered. “I know it’s what he secretly wants to paint it.”

“She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in what she's saying!” Rhys complained. Then, he turned to Feyre, looking impossibly serious. “Darling, I know you want to paint the house purple, and I already told you I’m fine with it.”

Feyre groaned. “I don’t want to paint the house purple! I want to paint it blue.”

“You’re only saying that because you think I want to paint the house blue.”

“Do you?”

Rhys hesitated. “No.”

“Don’t lie in front of our therapist,” Feyre said with narrowed eyes. “We promised to tell the truth while we’re here.”

“Then you tell me the truth, Feyre. Do you genuinely want the house to be painted blue?”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to hesitate. She could see the corner of Rhysand’s mouth twitch as she did so. “No. I mean yes! I do!”

“It sounds like at the heart of this argument, you are both ultimately concerned in pleasing the other person, is that fair to say?”

Feyre and Rhys glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Do you think there’s a color you could both compromise on, so that you don’t feel as if your partner is the only one making a sacrifice in this decision?”

Feyre met Rhysand’s brilliant violet eyes. In truth, she’d blurted the color purple because she’d been thinking about the color of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes that color, and they were wonderfully vivid. Feyre was lost thinking of painting a world in a monocrhome of violet, like a city that lived within his gaze.

Feyre realized she’d been momentarily swept away, snapped out of it by the humor that washed behind those starry irises. She blinked back the haze and tried to think of an answer to the question.

“Mustard yellow?” she proposed.

Rhys pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Mustard yellow,” he agreed with an emphatic nod of approval.

Dr. Suriel blinked in surprise. “All right, well I’m pleased we could solve that issue. Is there anything else you’ve been arguing about?”

“Yeah, actually. My wife,” Rhys gave Feyre a pointed glance. Somehow, despite being strangers, hearing Rhys refer to her as his wife sent waves of pleasure jolting through her. She felt her stomach flip on itself. “Isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Feyre instantly flushed at such an accusation, however fabricated.

“Is this true, Feyre?” Dr. Suriel turned her eyes towards Feyre and she shifted uncomfortably at having to make up stories about her sex life with Rhys. Making Feyre imagine rolling in a bed with him was certainly his goal, and she’d lie to say it wasn’t affecting her. Rhysand looked absolutely delighted to have made her squirm. Fine. Two could play at his game.

“Y-yes, well,” Feyre stuttered, the burning in her cheeks condemning. “I keep telling Rhys that 16 orgasms in a session is excessive. He’s much too generous a lover and he never lets me give as good as I get.”

Feyre felt satisfied with the way Rhysand’s face went crimson.

Dr. Suriel’s brows rose. “This seems to be a common theme in your marriage. Rhysand, would you say that you’re often prioritising Feyre’s desires over your own?”

“I think Feyre sorely underestimates how much pleasure I take from satisfying her desires,” he answered, his eyes flicking to Feyre with enough of a sensual promise that her heartbeat turned staccato.

“Rhys, it sounds as though your generosity is part of the way you express your love, is that safe to say?” Rhys nodded. “And Feyre, it seems as if you have trouble accepting your husband's generosity, both in and outside the bedroom. Do you feel that’s a fair statement?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Sometimes people have trouble accepting their loved one’s generosity when they feel like they aren’t giving something in exchange. It can be hard to accept that kind of love when we don’t feel like we deserve it. Do you feel like this could apply to your situation?”

Feyre blinked. This was meant to be a gag, something daring and experimental. She hadn’t expected to be psychoanalyzed by Dr. Suriel, or at least for her analysis to hit so close to home.

Rhysand shifted forward on the sofa. “Is this true, darling?” he asked, sounding concerned. He took Feyre’s hands in his own, brushing his thumb along her skin as he met her gaze. “I think you deserve the world.”

She would almost think he was being genuine if she hadn’t met him only an hour ago. Feyre marked the conviction on his face, those burning pools of earnesty in his eyes, and marveled at what an incredible actor he was.

Somehow she ended up blurting part of the truth. “My family life growing up was kind of tough and I’ve never really known what unconditional love was like. I think a part of me still believes it's something I have to earn.”

“That sounds like it must have been very hard, Feyre. But it sounds like Rhys loves you very much, and that this is an issue the two of you can overcome together. When you feel the instinct to reject his generosity, try to remember where that message is coming from. And Rhysand, try to keep in mind that this is something your wife is still working through, and be patient if she feels more comfortable giving you something in exchange. This is her way of expressing love, too. At the core of your issues is both of you thinking about the other person, try to remember this when a breakdown in communication occurs.”

Somehow they’d lost control of their therapy session and were receiving actual therapy, which wasn’t part of the plan at all. But somehow, despite not actually being married to Rhysand, what Dr. Suriel said was reassuring.

Feyre turned to Rhys and smiled. “I think I understand better, now. You’re free to give me as many orgasms as you want, honey.”

Rhys grinned fiendishly. “And I’ll let you reciprocate in whatever way you feel comfortable, darling.”

Dr. Suriel clasped her hands together in approval. “Excellent. I think so long as the two of you take measures to accurately communicate your needs, you’ll find these breakdowns will occur less frequently. And that’s it for our time today, but I am happy to have the two of you back any time.”

Feyre walked out of the session hand-in-hand with Rhys, feeling a bit dazed. It had certainly gotten more serious than she’d expected, but perhaps her judgement had been misplaced in thinking therapy could be anything other than serious, no matter how joking the complaints.

“Well, that was certainly stimulating,” Rhys quipped once they’d left the office.

“And it seems we’re at a draw, considering neither of us broke character.”

“You do play my wife convincingly well,” Rhys practically purred, “perhaps I’ll let you take up the real role, if you feel so inclined.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m expecting a few other offers to come through. Give me a few days to look over the applicants, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, well how’s this. I’ll give you my number, you can wait until all those applicants come back to you, and once you’ve decided that I’m clearly the obvious choice, you can call me.”

Feyre smiled as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him to insert his number. “You do make a very convincing husband. Perhaps I can hire you for weddings and Thanksgiving dinners?”

“Real husband, fake husband, a partner to do spontaneous, outrageous things with. You call me, and I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Feyre.”

It was perhaps the strangest and most generous offer she’d ever been given. When they parted ways, Feyre thought that she’d certainly filled her quota for an interesting story to tell. And maybe, most likely, she’d be calling that number very soon.

#Feysand #prompt fill #pro Rhys #pro Feyre #fake dating kind of #Feysand fic #acotar #acotar fic #ask #not proofread sorry #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

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Hi, I like your work.

If you could I have an obey me request of the brothers and( if possible the undatebles). About a mc who is changing their habits to be healthier (like exercise and healthy eating).

Cause thats what am doing at the moment and I would like the encouragement.

Thanks

Good luck with your journey and you can do it! I’ll probably do the Undateables in a separate fic, but I’ll definitely do them in the future. Reader is gender neutral!

The Brothers with MC Who Wants to be Healthier

Lucifer

He supports you, just don’t let it get in the way of your studies

Doesn’t really understand why but he doesn’t voice it aloud, and he likes that you’re actually making the effort too, showing a surprising amount of self discipline

He was amused (and worried) when you started working out with Beel, but was relieved when you came back okay and not missing any limbs

Still makes him worry though

He’s too busy to try and workout with you, but he does try to change his eating habits so you don’t feel like you’re doing this alone

(And this would explain why he’s been just a little bit crankier in the mornings since he cut back on his coffee intake. He won’t give it up completely, but he’s trying for you)

He does well keeping you on track though and knowing how strict he can be, it never got to the point of being overwhelming. It’s just his way of encouragement because he really means well and wants the best for you

Praises you so much, and you know it’s the truth too because Lucifer doesn’t just say anything to anyone. And takes his time in showing just how he is of you too, especially behind closed doors

He’s super proud of you, and he’s smug about it too. You’re his, you bear his pact mark on you, so he can’t help but show off your progress. It’s his sin, after all

Brags to Diavolo like the proud boyfriend he is

Mammon

He somewhat understands, but doesn’t at the same time. You look beautiful, stunning, hot, sexy FINE to him, but if that’s what you wanna do, you’re not doing it alone!

(He claims that you owe him some Grimm and that you’ll discuss payment later, but he’s honestly just excited to be doing this with you and doesn’t know how to handle it)

When he says that you’re not doing it alone, he wasn’t kidding. He’s right alongside you (even though he’s already by your side literally all day every day) putting in the effort 100%, and he’s a great motivator too!

Mammon is a model, so working out and healthy diets aren’t new to him. He takes on the role as your very own personal trainer, even if he forgets that you can’t eat all the food that he can or do everything that he can since you’re human

He’s confused but he’s got the right spirit!

His energy is just contagious! Doesn’t matter what you guys did, whether it was eating something instead of the usual Hellfire noodles or coming back after you guys finished a run, he’s always facing you with a blinding smile on his face every time

Mammon is basically your partner in crime and vice versa, so DUH he was gonna do this with you! What kind of first man would he be if he didn’t?

You’re not alone in this MC, and he’ll make sure it stays that way

Leviathan

OOF, he feels like he’s the wrong person to approach with this

It’s not like he doesn’t want to support you! He does! But, we all know how he feels about doing anything physical or doing anything that will take him away from his safe haven...

(With the exception of video games, anime, and Ruri-chan of course)

He REALLY doesn’t understand why you’re doing this, to him it’s like pure torture!

But, he sees how happy you look and how much energy you have now, so (with your help) he looked at it from a different angle...

That you were LEVELING UP

That’s what got him hype

(He still wouldn’t do it with you unfortunately)

He would unironically go on one of his rants and just be in awe at how much you’re powering up, waayyy better than his video game characters or some weak anime MCs; it’s just his way of encouraging you to keep going

He’s still too embarrassed to be straight forward to you, but you’re an inspiration to him. He expects nothing less from his Henry!

(If you see him trying to do any type of exercise in his room: no you didn’t!)

Satan

He finds it endearing to be honest, and he’s glad to help. Maybe he can find some helpful information in one of his books...

He’s not gonna act like your personal trainer like Mammon but he’s gonna be like your personal tutor but for your health!

“MC, make sure you don’t overdo it. I know you want to keep pushing yourself- and you’re doing more than a spectacular job- but you’ll end up hurting yourself if you overexert. How about you do some stretches as a cool down instead?”

Believe it or not, if he does do any type of workout with you (which would be somewhat rare), it would be stretches, only because it is somewhat calming and helps with how tense his body can be

And he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you

But he’s never afraid to give you motivation or give you compliments; he does it proudly and rather bold

Even if it seems like he’s just teasing you, Satan is being 100% honest. You’re already perfect in his eyes, but it just makes it more obvious seeing you doing something for yourself and being happy about it

Asmodeus

I feel like Asmo would be one of the most helpful brothers (besides from Beel of course) because he likes to take care of himself, and that includes eating healthy and working out

Even though doesn’t like to sweat and he hates the idea of feeling gross, he won’t whine (as much) because it’s something that he wants to do. He’s very big on self-love and having confidence, and he’s a firm believer in feeling good about yourself always, no matter what shape or size you are. After all, you gotta feel good to look good!

Plus, he has taken some devilishly selfies of his sweat glistening on him and he knows his fans go wild for those~

But this isn’t about him right now, you should’ve said something sooner MC, he’s glad to help!

Gives you new recipes to taste test together too! New recipes to try with you + new DevilTube videos= a recipe for views (and more time to be selfish with you)

GYM SELFIES

Also prepare to wear matching gym gear too. You guys are going to make progress and in style!

One of his favorite full body workouts hat he loves to do with you is yoga. Not only does it really become a peaceful time for you both to share, but it also gives him the opportunity to show just how flexible he is and how flexible he can make you~

Seriously though, Asmo is here for this! He will always be the first one to praise you for your accomplishments, and even if you feel like it’s small or that you didn’t really accomplish anything, he’ll make sure to prove you wrong

Beelzebub

He caught you doing some workouts in your room, and when he spotted you, it only meant one thing-

WORKOUT BUDDIES

You didn’t even have to ask him for help because he was already 100% on board with it

It’s only a handful of times that you’ve seen Beel be so serious before, so you were shook tbh

But don’t worry, it’s still gonna be tons of fun for you both!

He’s not gonna micromanage you or anything, and he invites you to his workouts all the time. Even if you have to remind him sometimes that you’re a human and you can’t just lift 1000 pound weights like it’s nothing-

The best spotter, no questions asked. If he even thinks that you’re struggling or he sees your arm shake in the slightest, he’s already behind you, holding up the bar and asking if you’re okay

If weights aren’t your thing or if you don’t feel comfortable going to the gym, he doesn’t mind doing at home workouts either! And he’s the best at correcting your form too

Even though he’s known for his insatiable appetite, he’ll still eat healthy with you. He may not know a lot about human food, but he does know what’s good for the body

Of course he still eats full course meals and will just burn it off like nothing, but he can skip out on Madame Screams’ pastries if it means keeping you motivated

You try to tell him that it’s okay for him to eat whatever, but he’s already shaking his head at you, telling you that you guys are in this together, and that’s that

You ended up splitting some sweets with him on your cheat day because you a.) felt bad and b.) wanted to thank you for being the best gym partner ever

He ate majority of it but still

Not to mention the encouragement that he’s always giving you! If it’s an off day or you feel like you didn’t do your best or enough, he’s already there giving you a smile and pulling you back on your feet, saying how much you’ve improved and how far you’ve come, and Beel isn’t the type to just say anything. He really means every word, and it’s more than enough to keep you going

And his high-fives >>>>>>>

The couple that gains together stays together, and he won’t lie; he feels more pumped in his workouts with you by his side

Belphegor

You weren’t coming home for your daily afternoon cuddle session(s), and when you did come home you were drenched in sweat and brushed him off for a shower. It went from occurring just once a week to every other day, and it was making him moodier than usual

When you explained it to him, he was whiny but supportive. Of course he supports your journey to a better lifestyle! He’ll just be supporting you from the comfort of his bed-

You’re definitely dreaming if you think you’re about to get him to join you working out (you should’ve went to Beel if that’s what you’re looking for)

But he’s great at being your cheerleader though! He stays in the room while you’re working out and he’s really cheering you on with his little chants (I mean it’s while he’s lazing around but still are you really surprised?), but you can’t help but still find it endearing and a way to stay positive

If ya’ll seen the new episode you understand what I mean lmao

He’s not one for moving around, but he can help you with what you eat

He’s pretty decent in the kitchen, and he’s got some safe-for-humans healthy snacks that he “borrowed” from Beel and some recipes that he got from Barbatos and Asmo

(Somehow Solomon overheard and volunteered himself to cook and Belphie doesn’t think he ever ran so fast in his life before when he walked away to go grab his “recipe book”)

Makes small remarks about your progress and says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, showing that he does notice the changes you’re making even if you don’t. Really helps you stay motivated!

His words may come off as dry and sarcastic sometimes, but he means well. He may have a bit of a hard time showing that he cares, but he does. And he cares a lot about you, more than he can express

Is also prepared to give you cuddles as both rewards and to make up from before

#obey me x reader #obey me reader insert #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me belphie x reader #obey me swd #obey me

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Text

Boxer Levi & Coach Reader

author note :: i lost the ask for this, but this is not good at all. quite literally the worst thing i have ever written /srs anyways,,,,, anon said they wanted me to post it no matter what so i hope you do enjoy whatever this is,,, the pacing is non-existent and it has not been edited 👍🏼

requests are always open :-) i promise i am usually better than this,, anyway i may just use this as a rough outline for a fic 🤔

word count :: 5.4k....... yeah......

you and levi become acquainted with each other in university. it’s all very cliche if you do say so yourself. he steps in playing the role of good samaritan heroically saving your wallet and wordlessly he hands it to you even after running for the thief. the man doesn’t do as much as pant in exhaustion.

his stamina is…never mind that, his reflexes are out of this world

he expects a thank you because anyone else would expect at least a token of gratitude shown via words but the sentence you want to ask only ends up trapping itself in your throat

it comes to the point where he nods understanding maybe you have a sore throat or just don’t want to thank him at all

eyes flicking to his hands you immediately lunge forward taking your chance.

almost immediately you feel regret for holding onto the wrist of a complete and utter stranger without permission

“your stamina it’s great!” the man turns to you, he isn’t smiling but he’s definitely intrigued by the sudden change in behavior

and that’s where it all begins

levi’s horrible at getting to know strangers, even worse at forming bonds and connections. maybe that’s why he doesn’t warm up to the idea of having to deal with new people and new settings all at once

“i hope you’ve met your coach this is aman-” introductions are cut short by levi stubbornly interjecting in the middle of your sentence

“i have, but is she you?”

pursing your lips an awkward chuckle leaves your mouth, you look around uncomfortably wondering what he means.

“well, no?”

“then i won’t box.”

?????

you don’t even know what to say??? here you were thinking maybe he would be a little more cooperative than this.

his index finger points right at you and he takes a step forwards. his shoes come into contact with yours and you find yourself holding your breath apprehensively.

“i won’t box unless it’s you in charge.”

that is when you and levi formally meet for the first time. you are but an inexperienced coach and he, an inexperienced boxer.

“i’m getting drinks you want anything?”

“oh no don’t worry i’m good!!” you smile at levi and he nods his head venturing off to buy himself a bottle of sparkling water

levi has had you coaching him for a few years now

really he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more than respect for you. respect for the way you stay back late with him to train, respect for the schedules you make him and he’s most definitely respectful of your boxing knowledge

sure out of the two of you he’s more physically capable but it doesn’t change the fact that he becomes frustrated when he’s told he has to spend a day without you.

it’s not like you think that levi cares or anything, nothing sappy like that.

he just probably hates, no, despises having to listen to anyone else’s instructions. he finds that they somehow sound demeaning or less sincere.

every instruction you give him has a reason behind it. you don’t beat around the bush and he’s stated before that he enjoys that he knows he’s developing his skill set and progressing when he’s with you.

the olympus ring - one of the largest boxing competitions known to man is approaching soon and if levi manages to place in the top two his career is set to sky rocket in no time at all

that thought makes you feel unusually nervous

worry gnaws at your mind and you wonder about whether or not he’ll replace you after the competition concludes. after all who wants a coach with little fighting experience? all you really know is from your family. your brother and father had been professional boxers years prior.

you have no doubt at all that levi will place number one that’s for sure but you really hope he doesn’t find a replacement for you.

you’ve never had much faith in your coaching and to be left behind in the dust hurts you a tiny bit but you never bring it up because you know what? levi progressing in his career will make him happy :-)

levi’s happiness over yours and it’s not good to be selfish you suppose >:(

“y/n.” he’s waving a hand in front of your face, you’re uncharacteristically quiet today and he’s caught on

“you awake?” he asks again.

upon receiving no response levi’s now waving his hand with more tenacity

“wake. up.” he flicks at your forehead and you stir a little finally coming to your senses once you see him leaning up above you.

he looks taller than normal from this angle and your cheeks blaze, he has a habit of walking around shirtless whilst training and doesn’t realise the effect it has on you

“i- yeah good totally good. just thinking.”

“thinking about?” levi kneels to the floor looking you in the eyes and your mind falters wondering when it was he began to sit so close to you. it feels like it was just yesterday when the two of you used to eat lunch separately out of embarrassment.

the silence stretches for a second too long and his eyes narrow suspiciously leaving you to think on your feet

“i well, you have a press conference soon and i have to think of transportation and-”

“coach. i can deal with that.”

you’re a little stunned when he says that because he’s never tried to take away from your responsibilities in the past. is this a hint that he no longer wants you around?

“but it’s my job?” you reply back feeling threatened

“but you’re always doing it. i can figure it out this once.”

without even hearing the rest of what you have to say he stalks back towards his punching bag leaving your chest empty

he’s definitely thinking of replacing you is what you think

really this should not be getting you worked up.

you’ve known levi for years, you should have faith in the fact he trusts you but you find yourself indulging in self doubt more often than you intend to

guilt fills you as you scroll through the multiple job listings in front of you but you have a justification. this is your lifeline, you can’t afford to lose your source of income and it’s best to be prepared

however there’s no real amount of preparation that can get you used to the prospect of not seeing levi every day

he’s sort of just made a space for himself in your daily routine

chewing at your bottom lip you can’t get through one job listing without thinking about him and you shut your laptop down thinking tomorrow will be a better day and you’ll check back in then

why does levi even matter?? he’ll officially be an ass when he dumps you of your position?? who cares about him???

but that doesn’t stop you from caring and now you’re hunched over your closed laptop trying to understand what it is that’s making you feel this way

maybe it’s the whole attachment you have with him??

he is the very first person you’ve ever coached that’s true

he’s made you proud and allowed for your name to get out there in the boxing world

maybe that’s what’s holding you back from looking into other jobs

but that reason doesn’t make much sense

you should still be frustrated with him.

AND

you most definitely should not care about how he’s doing OR worry about who’ll patch him up when he ends up stupidly injuring himself during practice (he does that a lot)

“why do i care so much for him?” you type into google thinking there’s no person on this earth that can help you with this predicament now

honestly at this point asking AI is probably going to have to be your only reliable option

tapping on one of the first links you hope to find your answer

“what happened? yeah, you had sex?” pops onto your screen and you tap off as quick as possible.

no. you did not have sex. oh god, you haven’t even touched levi much. the most you’ve done is lace your fingers with his and offer him a hug

are you meant to have… had sex???

is it wrong for you to feel that way withou-

okay enough. this has got nothing to do with sex and your feelings are still valid. maybe you are right and you’re attached to him that’s it!!! right?

scrolling further down you nearly give up until you reach another link titled “the science of caring for those who don’t care for you.”

rolling your eyes you still hesitantly tap praying you find some sort of answer

and an answer is what you find that’s for sure

staring you right in the face in bold letters

1. you feel responsible for that person

not really, he’s very independent.

2. the person is a family member

absolutely not

3. you could be romantically attracted to the person in question

…….

romantically interested?? no. that’s wrong. not true. incorrect. not right. just not real. you are not romantically attracted to levi

,,,or are you?

that does explain why he makes you feel jittery, it explains why you shivered the one time he engulfed you in a hug at his first championship

it also explains why you feel burning jealousy when a celebrity shoves their number into your hands asking you to pass it onto levi. they don’t even look at you like you’re a human being. you’re just a messenger pigeon

they’re worlds away from you. you forever stuck in your tracksuit and them - those beautiful models in skintight dresses and heels to match are stuck in a world where everything they want is handed to them. that includes men

you know it’s not their fault and you’d kill to be like them too but you guess the whole sweaty tracksuits and boxing daily has just become your niche

nonetheless levi is a man. a popular man.

and he sure as hell has no romantic interest in his clumsy, uncoordinated coach

sighing you huddle yourself into a ball choosing not to think about it anymore

but you know you’ve already come to your conclusion

you like levi ackerman more than a coach should

and it’s taken you years to take notice of it

when you became a coach you never really thought people would talk about you much

you were clearly very wrong about that. you and levi are both hot topics on discussion forums and boxing panels. luckily for you levi finds no entertainment in such forms of boxing and so never glances at them

he’s completely unaware of all the online comments. to be honest you’re happy he’s oblivious to it all. he doesn’t deserve to deal with spiteful, mean spirited jabs

you’re less like levi and find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news articles and boxing q&a pages. it’s interesting to see what people have to say on social media

but these days all the searches for your name are filled with “replaced soon?” and “not good enough to coach ackerman?”

the headlines are cruel jokes but again you’re willing to handle taking the brunt of the press’ force instead of levi. yes, even if it hurts you.

“what you reading?” levi peers over your shoulder and you nearly throw your phone away to the other side of the room but instead you choose to grip at it tightly and shove it into your chest

you grin hiding the screen away. “something private.”

levi doesn’t look like he believes you, he wants to ask if you’re okay and if you need anything because frankly you do look slightly distraught but he decides against interrogating you

“oh okay. i’ll be back. you want anything from starbucks?” he asks.

at that moment you wish he asked you if you wanted to talk about what had been bothering you

but you know even if he did ask you’d deny his help

the olympus ring’s official press conference is one in which many rivalries will be established

levi has always had an issue with zeke jaeger one of the top contenders in his division.

it’s a long story......

one which includes the purposeful injury of a mutual friend in order to sabotage his career

you remember it all, the way you had to physically hold levi back from pouncing at the man. it had been one of the most difficult things you had to do

erwin was your friend too and you wanted him to receive justice. part of you wanted to let go and allow for levi to attack zeke with his all but you chose to be levi’s coach before you were erwin’s friends

if he wasn’t going to make good decisions for himself you would do it for him

if you had let him go through with that rash choice he could have risked suspension and suspension could completely halt some careers. suspension almost always led to shorter longevity and motivation

and so that’s why you always shift to levi’s side when he walks past zeke. there’s no way you’re taking a chance. knowing levi he could lose his cool and completely pummel him with an upper cut

so that’s what you’re doing right now. trying to edge levi to the other side of the hall but he does no such thing.

“coach, do you have to be so cautious with zeke?” he finally asks with a bland look on his face

you wince a little when he doesn’t use your name and it looks like he notices the reaction. he makes no commentary on it

“this is my job. let me do it properly.” you explain nudging him to the side so your path doesn’t coincide with zeke’s

levi looks at you poking a tongue in his cheek clearly not amused nor happy

“i’ll do what i want.” and with that said and done he walks on ahead. you take note of the fact that despite saying he’ll do what he wants he does in fact comply with your instructions and walks in the opposite direction and into a nearby convenience store

sighing you rummage through your backpack trying to find your meds

your head has been pounding since you’ve arrived and you hope to fit in at least one nap

looking up to survey the area the street is clear and there is no sight of zeke. you feel at ease at that discovery, not only does he cause you discomfort but he’s a general displeasure to interact with

his tuft of dirty blonde hair irks you to no end and you’re up for no conversation with the man who who ended erwin’s career

he’s the last person you want to ever initiate small talk with.

but fate is a weird thing is it not? because as soon as you’re sure you’ve escaped the clutches of zeke jaeger you hear a chuckle behind you

“well if it isn’t levi’s side piece?”

a hand lands on your shoulder but you shake it away immediately

jaw clenching you try to ignore zeke as best you can but he continues to taunt you

“imagine if levi got an actual coach and not a whore to fuck in the gym?”

turning to face him you see him midway through shrugging his shoulders

believe it or not there had been a time where you and zeke were good friends. a time where he hadn’t let fame get to his head.

so for him to refer to you like that does make your heart sting a little

“cat got your tong-”

and there it is

the long overdue punch

it hits him right in the jaw without warning and you’re tripping trying to stop levi - who might you add has shown up from NOWHERE.

you thought he was shopping?????

“you know if i needed to swing at him i could have?!?” you whisper shout at him completely infuriated that he’s possibly thrown away his chance of competing

“you weren’t going to though.” he says plainly and you can’t deny it.

you don’t have it in you to swing at zeke.

levi doesn’t choose to inflict more pain on his opponent and instead kneels beside him leaning by his ear

you don’t know what he whispers - you’re completely out of ear shot but it’s not even thirty seconds later till levi rises and saunters away seeming content

shooting zeke an apologetic look for the over the top beating you’re surprised to see him look...regretful?

whatever levi said you wonder what it was

it’s been a solid fifteen minutes of you walking behind levi

his back is all you’ve seen so you have no idea about his mood and it’s not that you’re intimidated or anything but peering in just to look at his face is a little odd so you choose to stay a suitable distance away

“y/n.” he says finally when he reaches his hotel room.

fishing through your backpack for his keys you’re surprised when he holds your wrist to stop you

“listen to me.” he sounds calm but slightly on edge

“has zeke always said those things?”

twiddling your thumbs you awkwardly laugh

“well no, we used to be friends. remember how i told you ages ago? he was so cool back then and yeah i miss that zeke :-) but i don’t know what’s up with him.”

you’ve never really told anyone about how you feel about zeke’s hostility so you’re getting KINDA emotional right now thinking about the friend you miss

“i mean to ask, since you started coaching me has he always said that?”

“it was a bit before that but yeah. it’s no big deal at all. people change, zeke changed. i can’t do anything about it.”

moving to find his room keys again you don’t expect for him to hold his grasp

looking up at him there’s a look of simmering anger on his face

“why did you never tell me he said that about you?”

running a hand through your hair you’re only getting anxious having to deal with this in the middle of a hotel hallway

“levi. everyone says that about me. me and you are always together, all sorts of stupid rumours spread.”

“so why do you have to deal with all the malicious comments?? it’s unfa-”

“levi, the world has never been fair.”

handing him his keys he looks between you and them. he’s deciding if he wants to continue with his questioning

ultimately he decides he’s heard enough

a few hours have passed since the incident. neither you or levi have had the courage to come out of your separate rooms to discuss anything

you know you’re going to have to break the quiet and go through his possible press conference questions with him. even if you don’t want to this is your job after all.

so that’s how you end up sitting cross legged on his bed in your pyjamas. levi’s still in the shower so you’ve welcomed your self in. it’s common practice between the two of you to do so

after the one time he walked in on you naked…there’s practically nothing to hide from each other

scribbling a few ideas down onto your notepad you’re curious of what the press have in store for him this time

“yes exactly my thoughts” the sound of levi’s voice is coming from the bathroom, you suppose he’s had to take a business call and think nothing of it

“y/n?” he scoffs and you assume at first he’s calling out for you but then things take a turn for the worst

“sometimes i think about not having y/n coach me that’s all… there’s nothing wrong with that?”

oh.

so your suspicions were correct.

glancing down at the interview questions in your lap you jot down a note at the bottom

hey couldn’t stay for long but try to review the press conference questions on your own if you have the time! :-) much lov good luck, y/n !!!!

and then you retreat.

you don’t know if you make it up but you swear you hear knocking at your door during the night. you aren’t too sure but whatever it is disturbs your sleep.

stretching outside of your room the next morning you’re drowsy and beyond exhausted. you don’t even notice levi come outside.

one of his knuckles is rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. has he not slept well?

“i tried to wake you up but i guess you were asleep?” his statement comes out as a question. you’re not used to levi exhibiting much emotion at all and right now he seems unusually inquisitive.

“i was sleeping.” not even sparing him a second of your time you give him a rehearsed smile and walk off towards the hotel cafe

you can’t find the energy to even look at him

the hall is lined up with barricades to prevent possible assault or injury and you’re behind the stage with levi

the two of you have yet to say another word to each other since this morning. levi’s buttoning his shirt up and you’re looking around for his necktie. the least he can do after yesterday’s confrontation with zeke is to look presentable

“tie?” he asks over his shoulder

throwing it at him you hear a grunt of annoyance. he must have disliked that.

“can you help me with my cuff links?”

breathing out of your nose you feel anxious. you’ll have to get really close to him to do that.

but again you have to.

you take them from his hands and stand in front of him. you don’t really know how to go about this, what way is there for you to appropriately position yourself?

he’s sat on a backstage bench and checks the time on his phone “we’ve only got a few minutes left.” he’s clearly requesting that you hurry this up but you can’t seem to do it you’re completely frozen in place

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he asks

“nothing.”

he doesn’t have to know you know

“something’s wrong.”

“we’re in a hurry it doesn’t matter.” yanking him by his right sleeve you slot one of the cuff links through the slits in his shirt.

levi silently observes you fiddling with his sleeves, you can feel his stare burn into you. even as you’re moving onto the opposite side you can see from the corner of your eye that he hasn’t stopped staring

“was it something i said to you?” he asks again

a silence drags between the both of you and you debate on whether or not you’d like to enlighten levi with the information you obtained yesterday night

“more like something you didn’t say.” you finally respond.

thrusting his arm back at him his hand lands onto his lap and he opens his mouth to respond only to be cut off by an announcer

“THIS YEARS OLYMPUS RING CONTESTANTS MAY ENTER.”

crowds can be heard cheering outside but levi still hasn’t ripped his eyes off of you

“go on, maybe you’ll find a new coach after the press conference.” your bitter smile tells him all he has to know and his face visibly drops realizing what has happened

“i–”

“mr ackerman to the stage. i repeat mr ackerman to the stage!!”

he’s torn between staying behind and explaining himself or leaving to head towards one of the most important press conferences of his life

his teeth tug at his bottom lip as he looks between you and the entrance to the stage

“go levi.”

and he does.

levi’s sat on one of many chairs on the panel, he gulps taking a sip of water to calm his nerves. he’s not even nervous about the press conference, that can wait. he doesn’t know how much you’ve heard and how much you’ve misinterpreted what he’s said

he finds it weird at first that he’s even worried because you and him have a professional relationship

but then he has to stop himself from smacking the back of his own head. he knows that much isn’t true, hell if it was a strictly professional relationship he wouldn’t be walking around shirtless to get your attention

he wouldn’t lace his fingers with yours when he was nervous either

he wouldn’t let you tend to his injuries and scold him if this was about being professional, he doesn’t tolerate being scolded by anyone but if it’s you he’ll take it

when it’s you scolding him for fucking up one of his fists it feels okay, it feels right. he feels warm inside knowing that you have to care for him if you get that angry

he sighs feeling exasperated waiting for the last person to join the panel and get this question and answers segment over and done with

zeke makes his obnoxiously late appearance but levi doesn’t have it in him to roll his eyes. evidently he’s still stuck on you and thinking about apologizing as soon as this is finished

zeke sits right next to levi and some members of the crowd whisper amongst themselves

“have they made up?”

“think there’s gonna be another brawl??”

“i hope not they’re both my favourites…”

one of the reporters right in front of the stage but behind the barricades is the first to speak

“as we all know there has been an unmistakable sense of tension between two of the most promising contenders this year. mr ackerman and mr yaeger. would you like to put the rumours at rest?”

the question makes levi clench his jaw, zeke rolls his hands into two fists feeling just as frustrated. this is boxing not a reality tv show who cares what the terms of their long broken friendship are?

zeke nudges levi’s knee with his and levi returns the movement.

for now they’ll call a truce. it seems that both he and zeke have more pressing matters to attend to

“me and levi are bros. i’m frankly upset such a rumour started in the first place!” the crowd is mumbling again and the reporter himself is stunned by the unexpected response

“i admit that a fight which some may have saw yesterday was my fault. i had made some inappropriate comments towards his coach to get at him. it was a malicious move on my part and i hope people don’t think him and i are mortal enemies because of this bump in the road.”

zeke is so well spoken when he wants to be that levi feels self conscious sitting there having said nothing.

“mr ackerman? would you like to comment or?”

levi’s eyes light up, this is an opportunity to have you hear him. he doesn’t have to wait to explain when he can throw hints right now. you may be giving him the silent treatment but you wouldn’t miss this press conference for the world

sitting up in his chair and clearing his throat levi looks directly into one of the cameras pointed at him. he’s sure you’ll be able to see him from backstage.

“me and zeke have no other disputes apart from that i assure you. i simply value my coach greatly and so i acted rashly yesterday.”

the reporter nods along feeling pleased with the answer.

a few more questions are thrown around to the other contestants, levi sits there bored out of his mind until at the last minute before everything is just about to wrap up he’s asked a question once again

“regarding your coach, have you thought of a replacement if you win the championship?”

levi presses his lips together not understanding the question

“why would i replace my current coach?” where on earth has this question even come from??

“rumours have been flying around regarding lack of experience and the fact you’re outgrowing each other now. it’s all over boxing discussion forums.”

your hands are embarrassingly shoved into your pockets as people pass behind you backstage offering you pitiful looks. maybe wearing your bright pink team ackerman tracksuit wasn’t the best choice because everyone can hear what’s going on up front

levi’s memory flashes back to the number of times you hid your phone behind your back and awkwardly chuckled saying nothing was bothering you. he understands what you were hiding now

his mouth twists into a scowl, he knows you’re a few meters away listening to all of this and hearing it coming out of a stranger’s mouth is probably upsetting you

“i plan to stick with my coach till the day i die.”

you sit up not believing what you heard, it entirely contradicts what you heard last night

some journalists are jotting down notes, members of the audience are leaning forward listening intently

“well, why is that?” the reporter presses on

levi twirls a pen around in his hands staring off into the crowd.

“i don’t think anyone else could tolerate me.

you bite back a laugh because you know that’s true :-)

“they’re a person who saw potential in me when no one else did.”

he chuckles to himself. “your stamina it’s great!” his witty imitation of you is rather accurate

“that was the first thing coach ever said to me.” he pauses allowing himself to reminisce.

“but i did want to drop my coach the other day.” he admits.

hearing him confess to it should make you mad, you should be pissed off right now but you can’t manage to feel that way at all

“i said it because i wanted them to relax. i never really understood the magnitude of the criticism they were receiving until recently.”

levi’s staring directly at the camera and his eyes pierce into yours, it’s as if he’s actually looking right at you

“i’d be lost without them, so i want to say to the one person rooting for me backstage, thank you for everything you do for me :-)”

you’re covering your face with your hands feeling the blush creep up your cheeks now. GOD what is he doing??? you may as well be the same colour as your tracksuit, you’ve never heard him be this sentimental in his entire life

“so no, i won’t be replacing my coach any time soon. if anything i should worry about my coach replacing me.”

levi ackerman...

he’s a HUGE idiot if he thinks you’ve ever thought of seriously replacing him

levi presses his arms against your sides when you’re both alone and in the solitude of his hotel room.

“i’m sorry for thinking you wanted to fire me.“ you mumble it into his chest feeling much too embarrassed to look up at him and say it

“also i may as well say this now but i have a fat, massive, huge crush on you “

after that you awkwardly laugh to yourself. you both kinda stare at each other and you’re meant to regret telling him how you feel right now but you don’t. having that weight lifted off your shoulders feels amazing.

"you don’t have to like me back or anything and i know you don’t like me back obviously you probably like that one actress- what was her name?? the one with the long black hair she gave you her number at a fundraiser dinner. you’d both look cute together, have i said that??”

levi gives you a blank look

“i threw her number away.”

you’re open mouthed feeling completely shocked, she’s gorgeous??

“HUH?? HELLO WHY? LEVI ACKERMAN, HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN HER??”

“i have but is she you?”

the all too familiar words from years ago ring in your ears

nostalgia hits the both of you in waves and levi takes you in for another hug. your heart hammers in your chest and with your face pressed against him once again you can feel the irregular beat of his heart too.

that is when you and levi formally meet for the second time. this time you are but an experienced coach and he, an experienced boxer.

:-)

284 notes · View notes

lazywonderlvnd · 4 years

Note

Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly.

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him.

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it.

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning.

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences.

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils.

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather.

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

#anna writes #this prompt rly sent me into a tailspin of emotion #Anonymous

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6sakusa · 3 years

Text

‘broken’ miya atsumu.

a/n : lol i almost cried writing this so enjoy.

warnings : angst, physical violence (slap), mentions of cheating, mild swearing, me not proof reading.

“y/n, i love you and i want to spend the rest of my life by your side, so will you marry me?” you watched your boyfriend of four years get on one knee. he had told you earlier on to dress up nicely as it was a ‘special’ occasion. you assumed the only reason was the fact that the two of you were going to one of the best resturants in the city which would no doubt produce a bank breaking bill. but you were wrong, the occasion was special and you could easily name it as one of the best moments of your life.

it was hard to imagine that anything would be able to overshadow this, the feeling of bliss in your heart as he said those words to you, the sparkle in your eyes as you watched him pull at the ring which he clearly spent a fortune on, the round of applause ringing in the background from the on-lookers who were also dining. perhaps the only thing that would be better than this would be the birth of your first child, or all your children in fact.

you’d always imagined a life with miya atsumu the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend, you knew that he was more of the apartment type, specifically penthouses since his professional volleyball career allowed him a generous pay. you on the other hand had always been a house type, you longed for something big enough to nurture a family in, the two of you had been bickering about this for years since high school since the both of you were so sure that you would end up being his wife.

“yes, yes, yes oh my god of course i’ll marry you.” you squealed in excitement leaping into his arms with the biggest smile you had ever flaunted in your entire life. and those were the words he wanted to hear more than anything because he too had imagined a perfect life with you.. if only he could abide by it.

you rested in his arms, only pulling away to run your fingers over the pricey ring he had bought you. and of course he knew you’d love it when you had it saved to one of your pinterest boards for years.

“congratulations.” an array of customers proclaimed giving in to the celebratory atmosphere. truly, this was everything you could have asked for in life, you had a wonderful fiance, a beautiful place to live, you were thriving in your career and your social life was buzzing, curtesy of many of atsumu’s friends.

“do you like it?” he asked taking your hand to admire how beautiful you looked under the lighting positioned directly under your table. in addition, the stunning dress you had picked for the night was making you anything but resistible. how badly he wanted to tear the fabric off you and pound into you until sunrise was something he was struggling to hide.

“it’s beautiful.” you were mesmerised by the sight of it and your fiancé’s thoughtfulness, there was a love erupting in you that you weren’t even aware it was possible to feel for another person.

“let’s go home and.. celebrate.” he smirked with a smug expression on his face leading you towards the car. you knew exactly what he was thinking and how needy he was getting but tonight especially you would allow him to indulge in his lewd thoughts.

he held the car door open for you, he noted how much you loved this model, in fact it was your favourite one. it was one of the many things he noted about you as he planned to buy all the things you liked. maybe then you would forgive him, right? he hoped so.

he tapped against the steering wheel as the two of you drove down the night streets of tokyo, you assumed it was out of impatience because you were too distracted by your own thoughts to be as observant as usual with your boyfriends emotional state.

“y/n.. i need to tell you something.” he looked out of the window avoiding making eye contact with you as his drumming got louder. you turned to face him, readying yourself for him to make one of his usual silly jokes, or maybe one of his lewd speeches that would often come out when he got particularly riled up by you.

“what is it?” you asked with a light chuckle, the atmosphere of just a few minutes ago still buzzing within you.

“i- there’s no right way to say this but .. a couple months ago i slept with another woman and — i can’t bear the thought of you marrying me without knowing.” his words spilled out, there was barely a space between them and to any one else it would have been completely incoherent.

“what are you talking about ‘tsumu? that’s not funny.” you rolled your eyes with a smile leaning back into the passenger seat feeling the way the car moved on the smooth roads beneath you. there was a brief pause before atsumu decided to speak again, and between those seconds you thought absolutely nothing of his words. how you wish he would have just laughed along and stayed quiet, why? why did he have to tell you?

“i’m being serious.” he clenched his jaw causing you to whip your head in his direction, his eyes were still ahead on the road but he could feel your glare boaring into his skull. he couldn’t bare to face you, no — he didn’t deserve to face you.

“what?” your expression faltered, a new atmosphere dawned between the both of you. one that was a lot thicker — almost suffocating and heavily juxtaposed the one from the resturant. there was a million thoughts going through your mind right now, how was this possible? how did you not notice? how long had this been going on? why was he just telling you now? it was almost impossible to process it all at once with the feeling of your heart pounding out of your chest and your stomach getting ready to reject the food that you had eaten just minutes ago.

“i’m sorry i just, i got carried away that day you know? it was only a one time thing but i—“ his voice was cut off by a harsh slap to his cheek. you watched as the surface of his face turned red, he didn’t bother reprimanding you for getting physical, if he was being honest he expected it from you, actually he expected more. it was almost scary the way you weren’t shouting and screaming at him, the way you weren’t kicking and clawing away at him, it made him feel all the much worse.

you sighed to yourself, your breath was shaky as your heart was shattering in your chest and you hadn’t even noticed that you were crying. maybe it was because you were too occupied realising the way your life had all come crashing down in a matter of moments. your fiancé had cheated on you.. what does that mean for your relationship? would you even call him your fiancé anymore? and what about your home with him? not to mention the friendships you had with an array of his friends. what did this all mean?

“why?” your voice was below a whisper, you could barely muster up the voice to speak, there was a sickening feeling in your chest that you were way too focused on instead of your words.

“it wasn’t you.. it’s never been you, you’re perfect you’re everything i’ve ever wanted, i don’t know why, i’m just an idiot i was so stupid and i’ve regretted it everyday since... but i’m gonna fix it i promise i’ll fix it.” his voice was shaky and uneven, you could tell without looking at him that he was on the verge of tears. but that was nothing compared to what you were feeling. the fact that you had laid next to him for months without knowing that he had bedded another woman. did he touch her the way he did you? did he prefer her to you? was she prettier than you?

“how? how are you going to fix it?” you turned to him, tears staining your mascara and eyeliner, there was no doubt know that you looked like a mess. what you didn’t know is that atsumu still thought you were the prettiest girl in the world but you were too occupied being hit by the crushing realisation that the best moment of your life had just turned into the worst. love had so easily turned to hate and all your time together meant absolutely nothing to you anymore.

“well we’re going to get married right? and you’ve always liked this car right babe? i’ll buy you one. and there’s that house you always wanted, i can put a down payment on it today—“

“no.” you buried your head into your hands at the thought of your next words. four years? what did four years of your life mean now? what did you have left? “we’re not getting married.”

“wha— but you already said yes, come on don’t be like that, don’t you remember it was just a few minutes ago, you were so happy.” he spewed out words frantically, desperate to say something, anything, that would make you stay. he was prepared to sell his soul if it meant keeping you by his side, the only woman he had ever loved, the only one he had ever imagined a future with, the only one he wanted to start a family with, you were his everything.

“that was before you told me that you cheated on me and here you are throwing all these material things at me, a car? really miya? four years together and you’re here treating me like some gold-digging whore after breaking my heart? that’s why you proposed to me isn’t it? you think this ring will make me stay.” you were crying uncontrollably now and nothing atsumu could say to you or offer you would ever make you feel better.

“miya? y/n please i don’t know what else to do i’m trying to be honest with you—“

“pull over.” you interrupted him once again and he had no choice but to oblige. he knew that right now he was in no position to deny your wishes. but this was all temporary.. because you would come around right?

“i don’t understand why you would do this to me.” you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, your head was spinning and it felt like your throat was closing up. you needed to leave, because miya atsumu was now too suffocating for you to be around.

“i know, i know i’m sorry, please y/n i’m so sorry — look i’m getting the house now i still want a future with you.” he tugged on your arm begging you to look at his phone where he was already entering his account details for the place you had been fawning over.

“don’t fucking touch me.” you swatted his hand away. you didn’t want him to be anywhere near you knowing how close he had been with another.

“i’ll give you space if you need it, i’ll give you whatever you want just please — don’t leave me, please don’t.” his hands were shaking now as he tried entering various different numbers into his phone, he didn’t care if he had to buy the entire house now, he’d pay for the whole thing this second if it meant he could walk you down the aisle in a couple months time.

“i don’t need anything from you.. i don’t want this anymore, forget about that house, forget about a family together, forget about marrying me.”

“no no no y/n you’re just angry right now but please don’t say things like that you don’t know how it makes me feel.” he turned to face you and his heart clenched at the tears running down your face. your makeup was smudged and you had pushed yourself to the very edge of the car just to make sure you were as far away from him as possible.

“and what about how i feel huh? did you think about that when you were fucking some other girl wherever the two of you were? you have no idea how i feel, you have no idea..” you brought your hands to your face, concealing your weak figure from his eyes.

“i don’t want this.” you removed the ring from your finger, the same one you had saved to your pinterest board for years, the same one you had imagined atsumu using to propose to you countless times, the same one that had featured in both the best and worst moment of your life.

“y/n please..” his words were stuck in his throat now, he was finally realising that there was nothing he could say — nothing he could do to make you stay. you wouldn’t come around, you respected yourself too highly for that, he would never be able to call you his again. what did his life mean?

“i hate you miya atsumu.” you pushed the door open walking out of his car despite how much he begged you to stay. you didn’t care how he chased you down the road, you didn’t care what he said to you, you didn’t think you would ever care again.. you didn’t have it in you.

and the curse placed upon atsumu? he would never be able to find love again, because he betrayed the only person to stay by his side with unconditional love for years .. there was no one on the planet who loved him the way you did.

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spiderlilyserendipity · 3 years

Text

You *Are* Good

Jimin x female reader

The fifth installment of my series Safe Space, where the fem!reader needs to call red during a scene with the members. A new chapter is released daily. You can find them all on my series masterlist. Enjoy 💘

Genres: slight angst, smut, fluff.

Tags: established relationship, insecurity, lingerie, spanking. No official titles. Sub!reader. Soft dom! Jimin, colour system, aftercare.

WC: 667

You know that Jimin is a naturally charming guy, and he gets hit on a lot when he goes out.

You also know that Jimin is deeply loyal, protective of you and never posts about you two to keep you safe from his stalkers.

But still, it hurts when you see Jimin smiling in a picture with a pretty, perfect-looking model at a work party. Not only does the photo trend, with thousands of people questioning if Jimin’s “non-celebrity” girlfriend is really a famous model, but even your friends text you about it. In only a few hours, you become insecure in a way you’ve never known before. Maybe your boyfriend doesn’t love you anymore…

Determined to be cute tonight, you stay up waiting for Jimin. You shower and put on lingerie, something you know that turns Jimin on. You wear the pair he bought for you, trying very obviously to remind him that you’re still here.

But Jimin doesn’t think that way when he comes home past midnight, smelling a little bit like alcohol but otherwise only slightly tipsy. You had kissed him hard when he slid into bed, but he didn’t like it at all.

“Behave.” Jimin says sharply, pushing you off. “Why are you so eager tonight, Y/N? I just got back from a long work function. I’m tired.”

Seeing you wearing lingerie, Jimin sighs. “What’s the deal with this?” He asks. You flush. Maybe it’s because Jimin’s drunk, but you’ve never heard him talk about your lingerie like this. Maybe....he came home after seeing something he likes in that other woman instead.

“Sorry, I’ll change.” You don’t make eye contact, which irritates Jimin more.

“If you want to initiate a scene, you’re supposed to look me in the eye and act nicely. Or do you want to be punished that badly?”

You freeze at the idea of being punished. You’ve never been punished before, making a point to be a good girl for Jimin every time. But Jimin is annoyed with you. Maybe it’s because you’re boring compared to that model? If that’s the case, you would rather interest him by accepting punishment.

Reluctantly you bend over Jimin’s lap. “So dirty.” He growls into your ear, making you sink lower into his lap. You fear he might mean it. “I’m going to give you fifteen. Count them.”

You only manage to count until five when your voice breaks.

“Colour.” Jimin checks.

You sniffle. “R-red.”

Jimin is shocked. “What’s wrong, baby?” He helps you sit up, and you immediately wrap your arms around his neck and sob. “What did I do baby? You have to tell me so I can make it better.” Jimin asks worriedly, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“D-Do you like that model?” You pull back and ask him. “The pretty one whose instagram post you were in.”

Jimin is stunned. You see the gears turning behind his eyes, putting two and two together. “No my love. Never.” He promises, giving you a gentle, lingering kiss. “Don’t ever force your own limits in bed because of someone else, okay? I don’t even care about that lady, she’s just a work acquaintance.”

“R-Really?” You ask hopefully.

Jimin looks so worried you think he might cry. “Yes. Now stop talking about her and let me fuss over you. Shit, I was too rough, baby. I’m so sorry.” He apologizes, grabbing lotion off the night stand. He starts applying a small amount to each cheek. You’re a bit embarrassed since you’ve seen subs in porn take way more, but you know your limits too.

“I don’t wanna do this again.” You admit as Jimin gently takes care of you. “Just w-wanna be good.”

“You are good. You are so good.” Jimin promises, kissing you all over your face. “So good for me.” He says, stroking your hair. He guides you to lay down slowly, making you lay on top of him so your ass doesn’t sting.

“Love you.” You whisper.

“Love you.” Jimin repeats, tucking the blankets in around you.

Requests are open ❤

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jimin x oc #jimin x you #jimin smut #jimin fluff

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Sweet Cream Nights (jjk + ksj + myg)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jungkook x Seokjin x Yoongi Genre: smut, fluff Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~8.4k

Tags: smut, fluff, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, bakery au, coffee shop au, arcade au, getting together, polyamory, food play, oral sex, come eating, dirty talk, humping

Summary: The local video game arcade owner is in love with the local barista who is also in love with the local baker. What could go wrong?

A/N: Third Kinktober fic, day 5: foodplay

Friendly competition was healthy, normal, and expected from successful business owners with shops near to one another. It only made sense that the two best coffee shops on the same street would have a friendly rivalry, or that the local bakery would compete with the nearby diner serving fresh cakes. What wasn’t normal, and not expected, was the local bakery in such a cutthroat competition with the local arcade.

It wasn’t even really about the products, of course. Individuals routinely purchased snacks or lunch from Seokjin, the owner and baker at History in the Baking – the best bakery in town by any local’s standards, then stopped in two doors down to play a few video games, often with Jungkook, the owner of the Golden Closet; a newer, but booming arcade. There was no loss in business and nothing forcing the rivalry.

Nothing, that was, except Deja Brew, the small café and coffee shop nestled directly between the two businesses. Really, it was because of the owner of the shop, one Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was everyone’s favorite. He liked to put on a grumpy front, often standing out in front of his rather adorable little shop as it opened at 6:37am sharp (he said, because 6:30 is too damn early, and what person wants coffee as late as 7:00am, really?) But it wasn’t real. No, the short, sweet faced grump was really as gentle as could be. He gave the bleary-eyed children of busy moms small sweets and volunteered with local charities. He often worked with Seokjin to make sure no product went to waste; every few days he and Jin would gather up near expiry products – Jin’s baked goods and breads and coffee beans that hadn’t sold, and Yoongi would drive them over to the nearby homeless shelter for breakfasts for the needy.

This was where Jin first realized that he’d fallen truly head over heels for the barista. The only problem he had was that he wasn’t sure if Yoongi liked him back, or if he was even into men. And the idea of ruining the both friendship and business cooperation they had was more terrifying than keeping silent.

Jungkook, on the other hand, knew almost immediately that he wanted to ask Yoongi on a date. The first week he’d moved into the empty space next to Yoongi’s shop, he’d wandered in, exhausted from an all nighter getting things up and running and just needing a quick pick me up. He’d expected something like a fancy Starbucks – in and out and perhaps a misspelled name on the cup to boot. What he’d gotten instead was a very concerned Yoongi herding him to a booth and a warm breakfast; the most delicious oatmeal he’d ever tasted, along with a rich, sweet coffee that made his toes curl and his heart skip. Though, maybe the heart skipping was more Yoongi’s doing than the coffee. Yes, Jungkook knew he’d been swept off his feet. His problem however was that despite being told he was handsome and being quite boisterous and loud in regards to his friends… Once someone he fancied came near, he clammed up; closing himself off and barely speaking more than a few words to the person. Which was what happened with Yoongi.

And Yoongi – for all his attention paid to customers, bills, and the local news – had no idea that he was being courted after by his two neighbors. When their rivalry picked up, Jungkook had blocked Jin’s back door for nearly three hours with a large truck first off; then Jin had had a whole pallet of flour ‘misdelivered’ to Jungkook’s door – he assumed they were old friends, or old enemies. Perhaps exes that were out to get one another. It wasn’t his problem, and he had no care about how they handled their rivalry – just as long as he wasn’t dragged into it.

Seven months, it went on. Seven entire months of petty pranks and murmured name-calling and generally annoyed glares between Jungkook and Jin. And then it happened.

Jungkook was early in to the arcade. It was nearly 6:15, but the sun was shining and he was feeling particularly good. He’d spent the evening out with an old friend who had encouraged him to ask Yoongi out before someone (Jin) did.

He walked past Jin’s shop, glancing in. He could see a few lights on in the back; Jin was always in early, working on his day to day treats. Despite his annoyance with Jin, he had to admit, the man was an excellent baker. And what was more, he was frankly stunning. Tall and broad, slender, with the face of a God – if Jungkook wasn’t so taken with Yoongi he may have gone after Jin. His custom pastries and cakes were stunning and elaborate, and his simple day to day cookies and pastries were always a hit. Rivalry or not, Jungkook knew good sweets, and that man’s were to die for.

He passed the bakery without lingering too long and glanced into the front window of the café. Much to his surprise, the main lights were on; Yoongi normally kept them off until opening time. He looked a little closer, and his stomach did a tight little flip. Yoongi was sitting at one of the tables, sipping coffee… With Seokjin.

They were laughing, and Jin reached over, brushing the tips of his fingers over Yoongi’s cheek. Jungkook saw red. It wasn’t fair. He reached up, ready to tap on the glass, draw Yoongi’s attention, anything. He froze though. What right did he have? He hadn’t made his move on Yoongi fast enough – that was on him. He sighed softly and shook his head, hurrying past the café before one of them caught him peering in like a pervert.

Jungkook tried to ignore the ache he felt as he worked, but every time his mind drifted, it went to what he saw that morning. Was it what he had assumed? Were they just friends? He had to find out. He slipped out under the guise of an early lunch break, entering Deja Brew.

Yoongi was behind the counter, looking stunning as always. He looked up and grinned. “Afternoon, Kook. What can I get you?”

“Whatever you think is good,” Jungkook said, settling in one of the tables. “You know I trust your opinion here.”

“Coming up.”

The shop was empty; Jungkook knew it wouldn’t start getting busy again until about noon. It was nice; he could watch Yoongi working without others wondering what was wrong with him. Yoongi circled around to the table with a tray, setting a sandwich in front of Jungkook along with a coffee.

“Mind if I join you? Grab my own lunch before the real lunch rush.”

“Of course not,” Jungkook grinned, trying not to sound too excited at the prospect.

Yoongi set a similar meal down on the other side and hurried the tray back to the counter before sliding in across from Jungkook.

Jungkook took a bite, groaning happily. “This is amazing.”

“Apple sausage with fresh veggies. I managed to get some really great products at the farmer’s market this weekend, and Jin gave me a deal on the bread. Nobody does these little sandwich loaves like he does.”

The smile slid from Jungkook’s face. He tried to replace it, ignoring the twist in his gut. Well, this was what he came for; might as well rip the bandage off. “You and Jin are pretty close, huh?”

“I think so,” Yoongi said casually, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“How long have you two been…” He drifted off. Yoongi’s brows furrowed for a moment. He swallowed the bite in his mouth.

“Been friends? About a year. We met a few months before you joined our little shop front.”

“No… Dating,” Jungkook clarified.

Yoongi coughed, laughing after taking a swig of coffee. “Dating? No, no. Jin and I aren’t dating. I’d love to but… He’s not into me that way.”

“Are you kidding? He’s obsessed with you,” Jungkook said without thinking, wanting immediately to kick himself. “I saw you two this morning when I was walking to my arcade. I figured… You know… It was a date.”

Yoongi chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it, but no… We were just having breakfast.” He hesitated. “Do you really think he likes me?”

Jungkook snorted. “He adores you. I mean, why wouldn’t he? You’re funny and smart and one of the most caring guys in this town. Plus you make amazing coffee, you’re independent. And you’re handsome as hell and I—” He froze, realizing Yoongi was staring at him, eyes wide.

“I—I just mean you two are a good match,” he mumbled.

“I appreciate the plethora of compliments, but no we aren’t.” Yoongi chuckled. “Jin’s damn near a model.”

“He really is. I’ve never seen someone with such broad shoulders that doesn’t look weird. And his smile…” Jungkook shook his head, smiling a little. “He’s stunning. But you are too.”

“Well, maybe I’ll ask him out. But… I don’t think he’d be into my lifestyle.”

Jungkook’s brows raised. He twitched his head to the side, mouth pursing. When Yoongi didn’t continue, he nudged him with his foot under the table.

“Lifestyle?”

“It’s… Very hard to explain.”

“If it’s not comfortable, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s not that. I am comfortable with it. I just wish others were,” Yoongi mumbled.

“It sounds intriguing… I’ll listen without judging, you know me.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “You do have a knack for that, don’t you?” He sighed. “I’m not… Comfortable in traditional relationships. I never have been.”

“Like sexually?”

“Oh no, no. I’ve always been very sexual being. No, I mean traditional monogamy. I believe in faithfulness and I abhor cheaters… But for me the traditional two-person relationship is dull and unfulfilling. It’s like… I feel like I have so much love to give and no matter how much I give to the other person there’s this space missing.” He sighed again. “It’s very hard to explain to folks.”

“You feel like the true way to be happy in a relationship is to have more than one partner?” Jungkook clarified.

“For me, yes. I’m not disparaging traditional relationships, I just… When I date someone, I feel like there’s still this gap there, waiting to be filled by a third party. And it doesn’t matter to me whether that third is dating my first partner, or if they’re just dating me, or even if they’re dating someone else that I’m not dating, I’m okay with any combination, I just… I need to have more than what traditional monogamy can give me.”

“I get it,” Jungkook said, nodding. He sipped his coffee as he thought, processing the information. “I don’t see anything wrong with what you feel. You still love and believe in being faithful; I’m guessing seeking a third partner, or a fourth or however many would be something that you’d discuss with your partner originally.”

“Oh of course, but therein lies the problem. The majority of people don’t understand this mindset. They hear something about wanting another partner and insecurity crops up. Are they not good enough, do they not satisfy, am I falling out of love with them and there’s really no way to explain to a person who sees things in the traditional way.”

Jungkook nodded. He scowled at the remnants of his sandwich in thought, trying to put himself in Yoongi’s shoes, or in the shoes of someone Yoongi might be dating.

“It’s gonna catch fire if you laser focus any more on that bread,” Yoongi joked, his voice a little tense. Jungkook looked up. “Oh, sorry.” He laughed. Yoongi looked as tense as he sounded, and Jungkook wondered if he was waiting for a sort of negativity about what he’d just confessed.

“I was thinking about the type of relationship you described.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, trying to put myself in that place – the mind of someone you might be dating who you told this to.”

“What’s the verdict? Would you dump me?” Yoongi laughed as he spoke, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Jungkook shook his head no.

“When I think about it, I don’t deny my initial thought would be to ask if you were happy – I feel like that’s everyone’s gut response. We were raised in a monogamy preferred society, so it’s just… Natural to think that way. Not right, of course… We were also raised in a heterosexual society and I think it’s pretty clear that’s bullshit.”

Yoongi and Jungkook both chuckled at that. Jungkook continued.

“But I think if you explained that you were, and how you just told me about it, I think I’d get it. I would want to be with you in the process though. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with my partner seeking out another person without me. That would feel too much like hiding or cheating. But I think if we went together and met folks, or even had a person in mind that you wanted to ask, I’d want to like them too. Maybe not as much as I liked you, but some sort of friendship or agreement that you’d be good together, if that makes sense.”

Yoongi was silent for a long time after Jungkook spoke. He couldn’t figure out his expression. There were subtle shifts in it, and sometimes Yoongi looked close to tears, other times happy, and blank. Jungkook wanted to ask what he was thinking, or if he’d said something wrong, but didn’t want to push Yoongi into answering if he was still processing.

So he went back to eating, finishing the last of his sandwich and sipping the sweet coffee while he waited. He looked outside, watching the traffic pass through the window. Some familiar faces passed by, likely heading into his arcade next door. He should head back at some point soon, he’d left Taehyung in charge, which was fine in the short term, but Taehyung had a way of getting too up in his head or too hyperfocused on one thing – so it was best to have a second person there to bring him back to reality.

Jungkook was just about to clear his throat and call it a meeting when Yoongi looked up suddenly, meeting his gaze.

“Jungkook…”

“What?” Jungkook laughed a little, the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze startling. Not to mention, arousing; he’d never been looked at like that before. At least… Not by anyone he liked back.

“I’m in my late twenties,” Yoongi began, finally breaking the gaze to gather their plates. “And I’ve known this about myself since I was very young… Thirteen, fourteen maybe?” He rose, holding the plates and his empty cup. “In all that time I’ve never had someone respond how you just did. Taking the time to process and try to understand and… Get it. Maybe not think the same way as me but… Be able to offer me an answer that wasn’t going to break my heart. That would let me and them be happy.”

“I—”

Yoongi shook his head, his mouth curling up into a bright, gummy smile. “You asked about Jin because you’re jealous, didn’t you?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He lowered his gaze, nodding softly. “That’s weird, huh?” He mumbled.

“I think it’s cute.” Yoongi leaned down, his breath warm on Jungkook’s ear. “And I think you’re cute Jeon Jungkook.” He shifted, pressing a quick kiss to Jungkook’s cheek before standing upright.

Jungkook’s head snapped up when Yoongi rose. “What?”

Yoongi smirked. “I don’t mince my words. You heard me.” Yoongi glanced at the door, nodding to a customer approaching that he must have recognized. “My lunch rush is about to start,” Yoongi said as the bell dinged, signaling the customer’s entrance. “Come by when I close. I want to talk to you more.”

Jungkook grinned brightly, his nose crinkling up. He rose quickly and nodded even as Yoongi walked away. “I will,” he said, not wanting to turn his back as he watched Yoongi walk behind the counter. “I’ll see you—” He winced when his hip bumped the corner of a table hard enough to sting. He moved out of the way, nearly running into the customer.

“Sorry!” He cried, bowing low. He glanced up, his cheeks warm as he spotted Yoongi watching him, an amused smirk on his face.

Jungkook made it out of the café and over to his arcade without any further accidents. His mind was whirring over what had just happened. Yoongi had said he was cute. Yoongi had kissed his cheek. And asked him to come over. Was this happening? Was he going to win the guy?

The other information Yoongi provided him also crept back in. Now that Yoongi dating him might be reality, rather than theory, would Jungkook really be okay with sharing him with another partner? The more he thought about it, the more he realized he would. The idea of sharing Yoongi with someone else was intriguing. He wondered how date nights might look, if Yoongi would call them both boyfriends – if the other partner would even be a boy. What if he fell for that one too? It was something he’d never considered before; being in love with two men at the same time, but it was something that he was very interested in exploring. What was Yoongi’s type too? Would it be someone else similar to Jungkook? Or totally opposite? His mind wandered through all the possibilities, making the day pass easily.

Shortly before closing time, the front door opened. Jungkook glanced up from where he was sanitizing one of the game systems. His brows rose, disappearing into his shaggy hair when he saw none other than Jin standing in his doorway.

“Good afternoon,” he said politely, bowing. “You looking for something specific? We have some open computers at the internet bar, and some other game systems. I just cleaned this one, so—”

“I’m looking for you,” Jin said bluntly. His jaw was set, giving him a stern look, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Can we chat?”

“Of course.” Jungkook nodded, heading behind the small counter that housed a few mini fridges worth of snacks and books filled with codes and game information. He tucked the sanitizing supplies on the bottom shelf and waved Taehyung over. “Keep an eye on the front for me, okay?”

Taehyung glanced at Jin before nodding to Jungkook. Jungkook motioned for Jin to follow him, unlocking a nondescript door that led into an “office” – really it was a gutted storage closet, but it worked to keep the fancy and important stuff out of sight of customers… And for private meetings. Jungkook leaned on the small desk.

“What do you need to talk about?”

“When did you start dating Yoongi?”

Jungkook blinked. “Who said I was dating him?”

“I saw you two this afternoon. He kissed you.”

“He kissed my cheek,” Jungkook corrected. “And you’re a snoop.”

“The shop’s windows aren’t exactly hidden away. I was walking past and saw.”

Jungkook nodded. He sighed and went around, slumping into the folding chair he’d set up to sit in while dealing with bills and other business things. “Well, we aren’t dating. I assumed he was dating you… I saw you two awful cozy this morning.”

“Oh, now who’s the snoop?” Jin grumbled, leaning on the door.

The two remained silent for a long time, staring each other down across the small space. Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of Jin’s shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. Though it was a well fitted, button up shirt, it still seemed tight with his body. His belt was cinched around his waist, making his slender hips all the more obvious as well. Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hold onto those slender hips, or wrap his arms around the broad shoulder span. And the more he looked, the more he noticed Jin’s mouth and neck. The curve of his throat, ridged with muscle, his full, pink lips that looked just a little chapped – but still oh so soft. The gentle curve of his nose and the smooth, shiny glow to his skin. Despite working in a bakery all day, not a hair was out of place, bangs parted just so to show a broad, smooth forehead that was begging to be kissed.

It was Jungkook who broke first, laughing in the silent room. He shook his head. “This is so stupid,” he said through bursts of laughter. Jin tried to remain stoic but broke as well, laughing along with Jungkook.

When their laughter faded, Jungkook shook his head, wiping his cheeks. “Look, I do like Yoongi. That’s no secret. And yeah, he did kiss my cheek – he was flirting. So, if you like him… I encourage you to tell him.”

“You just said he likes you.”

“And he likes you too. He told me today.” Jungkook hesitated. He didn’t want to say too much about what Yoongi told him; it wasn’t his place to tell. “You should talk to him. His answer might surprise you. But either way – we’ve been fighting over him for months, when in reality this is his choice. He deserves to know the truth so he can make that choice.”

Jin’s shoulders sagged just a little. He nodded. “I know you’re right. But I don’t want to make it harder for him if he has decided to date you.”

“I know you don’t, but you won’t know what he decides until you tell him. He’s a big boy – I’m sure he can handle it.”

Jin chuckled. “True… Thanks, Jungkook.” He turned to go, then turned back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick these past few months.”

Jungkook grinned. “I’m not. It’s been fun. I’ve kinda enjoyed our pranking.”

“Is that so?” Jin smirked. “Well, maybe I won’t stop then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Jin turned and walked out, leaving Jungkook to wrestle with far more internal questions than he had answers for.

That night, Jungkook headed over to Deja Brew as soon as he closed things up. The lights were mostly off, save for a few near the back and behind the counter. Assuming it was locked, Jungkook knocked gently. He saw movement from the back, and Yoongi came rushing out. Even in the fading sunlight, Jungkook could see he looked a little flushed and surprised. He opened the door, smiling brightly. “You came.”

“Of course I did… You okay?” Jungkook could see his cheeks were mottled and his hair was a little mussed.

“Yes. But… I have to tell you something.”

Jungkook stepped into the café, letting Yoongi close and lock the door behind him. He shouldered his bag a little higher onto his shoulder. “What do you have to tell me?”

“There’s been… A bit of a development. That I didn’t expect… When I told you to come by.”

“Oh?”

“Evening, Jungkook.” The voice came from the back room, where Yoongi had rushed from. Jungkook looked over Yoongi’s shoulder, his eyes widening. Jin was leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing the same shirt as he had been when he met Jungkook, but now it was hanging open save for two bottom buttons, his firm, broad chest exposed. It was damp with sweat and flushed red, as was Jin’s face and ears. His hair was a little mussed and his mouth – if anyone could believe it – was just a little plumper.

“Oh!” Jungkook backed up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Don’t go,” Yoongi whispered.

“But you and Jin—”

“He came over,” Yoongi nodded. “But I want to talk to you still. I don’t want you to go, please.”

Jungkook nodded. He met Jin’s gaze, a little surprised to see a gentleness there. He’d won – he expected Jin to look smug. He followed Yoongi back into the back room, and Jin followed as well, leaning against a nearby wall.

“Jin came over earlier,” Yoongi began. “He said you encouraged him to.”

“I did. He came to me and I said it was only fair to you. To tell you how he felt and let you choose. I guess he did and… You did.”

“How do you mean?” Yoongi asked.

“Well, you two…” Jungkook motioned to Jin’s open shirt.

“Oh, yeah. We did. I mean, we are… But… I told you earlier today. How I felt,” Yoongi said. “You said… A lot. About how you’d feel about it. Was that true?”

“About the… More than one person thing?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Yeah, I meant it all. I wouldn’t mind. If I knew you cared and were happy, I’d try.”

“Well I told Jin too.”

“And I said the same thing,” Jin added.

Jungkook smiled softly. “I’m glad. It’s good to find similarly minded people.”

“Jungkook,” Jin stepped forward. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t you?”

Jungkook pouted. “No,” he mumbled. “I was just trying to be fair, I didn’t—”

“Jungkook, you and me and Yoongi all say the same thing. We’d be happy to try a relationship with more than one person.”

“Yeah, I got that…” Jungkook said, glancing between the two.

“Right… And we both like Yoongi,” Jin continued. “And… Considering the way you were eye fucking me in the office earlier…”

Jungkook’s eyes bulged. He opened his mouth to argue, but Jin shook his head. “I know when someone is giving me that look. I would’ve told you to stop if I didn’t like it.”

“You…”

“Think you’re kinda… Annoying.” Jin laughed at Jungkook’s expression. “And really attractive. Plus you’re competitive and stubborn and loyal…”

“You didn’t lose anything, Jungkook,” Yoongi said. “If you don’t want to lose, that is. If you want… You can both have me.”

Jungkook’s eyes bulged. Comically, if the laughter of Yoongi and Jin meant anything. “You mean—I—I could be with you both?” Jungkook stumbled over his words, wanting to kick himself.

Yoongi nodded. “Why should I choose between you when you both want me and I… Want both of you. And since you’re both okay with sharing me, then… It only seems fair to do so.”

“I was simply getting started a little early,” Jin teased, pulling Yoongi back to him. He kissed him hard.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what to do. He’d just been given the okay – he could date Yoongi – and Jin. He stepped forward, setting his backpack on the ground. Cautiously, he reached out, touching Yoongi’s wrist.

Jin broke the kiss. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, nuzzling Yoongi’s neck even as he looked up at Jungkook.

Jungkook took a deep breath. He stepped forward, pulling Yoongi to him and kissing him. The reality of what was happening seemed to hit him suddenly when their lips met. He grabbed his cheeks, holding him close even as Yoongi laughed into his mouth. Jungkook felt a warmth behind him and hands on his hips. Jin.

“Can I share you too, Jungkook?” Jin whispered in his ear. Jungkook broke the kiss with Yoongi, looking over to meet Jin’s gaze.

“I—I guess so.”

Jin smiled softly. He stepped to the side, wrapping one arm around Jungkook and pulling him into a deep, needy kiss. His mouth tasted of warm, sweet vanilla and a hint of spice, while Yoongi’s had tasted like coffee beans and chai. It was the perfect blend.

Yoongi’s mouth landed on his neck, his hand sliding Jungkook’s front as he and Jin kissed. He felt hands on his jeans and gasped, breaking the kiss. He glanced down. Jin was undoing Jungkook’s jeans.

“You can stop me,” Jin said softly.

“And me,” Yoongi added.

“No,” Jungkook leaned back, sliding his hand up Yoongi’s neck and through his hair. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He reached forward, touching Jin’s bare chest before sliding lower, his fingers tracing the firm muscle of his abdomen. He undid the other two buttons of his shirt and pulled it open just as Jin opened his jeans. The slid down a little, and Yoongi helped, pushing them the rest of the way down to his ankles. Jungkook toed his sneakers off and kicked the jeans off. He let go of Jin’s chest to turn, grabbing Yoongi’s belt. “I’m not gonna be the only one with no pants,” he said.

Yoongi laughed. “I’ve already had my pants off. I put them on when you came in.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jungkook undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. “What were you two doing in here?” He looked back at Jin, who smirked.

“I was showing him just how… Versatile my food can be.”

“Is that so?”

Jin nodded. Jungkook pushed Yoongi’s jeans down and turned. “Well now I’m envious… Can I get a lesson in that diversity too?” He pouted.

Jin smirked. “I’m sure that can be arranged. He circled around the two and opened a small fridge under Yoongi’s desk. He pulled out a small cheesecake and a can of spray whipped cream. “Mind if I get some things from up front, Yoongi?”

Yoongi shook his head no, busying himself kissing along Jungkook’s neck. “Bet this isn’t at all what you expected tonight,” he murmured.

“Not at all,” Jungkook leaned into his touch. “But I’m not complaining.”

He turned, pulling Yoongi’s shirt off over his head. He took a moment to stroke his hands over Yoongi’s soft skin, tweaking his nipples just a bit and giggling when Yoongi hissed. Yoongi moved forward, forcing Jungkook to walk backwards until his back hit the wall. He moaned openly, grabbing Yoongi’s hips.

“Don’t come in your shorts now, I have some fun for you two,” Jin teased when he re-entered, holding a cup of coffee and a bowl of what looked like ice. He set them on the table next to the food and beckoned the two over.

“Yoongi… He smirked. He scraped a small chunk off the cheesecake and brought the fork toward Yoongi. Yoongi opened his mouth for it, but Jin moved the fork at the last second, smearing the cheesecake over Yoongi’s bare collarbone. He looked at Jungkook. “Go on.”

Jungkook grinned. He moved forward, gently licking and sucking the cheesecake from Yoongi’s collarbone. He let his teeth graze over the area, enjoying the squeeze of Yoongi’s hands on his waist.

“Take your shirt off now,” Jin whispered when Jungkook had cleaned Yoongi’s skin, and left an array of delightful red marks in his wake. Jungkook obeyed, stripping his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Jin did the same, and stripped his jeans off as well, leaving all three in their boxers. Jin grabbed the can of whipped cream, looking between the two. “Who wants a treat?”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook said. “I stole his cheesecake after all.”

Jin stepped forward and reached out, palming Jungkook through his boxers. Jungkook gasped, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“Lets get these off then,” Jin whispered, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s jaw. Yoongi stepped forward, sliding them down his hips. Jin made a low noise of appreciation when his cock sprang free. He shook the can once more.

“It’ll be cold,” he warned before tipping it upside down. He pressed Jungkook’s cock down a little further so it was more parallel to the ground and sprayed a few lines of the creamy dessert whip over his shaft.

Jungkook forced his eyes open as Yoongi sank to the ground, licking his lips. He grasped Jungkook’s cock gently behind the tip, careful not to disturb the whipped cream, and looked up at him. Slow and steady, he began to lap to Jungkook’s cock, catching the cream with his tongue. Each inch slipped into his mouth, hot and warm and slick, Jungkook gasped, reaching out for anything to brace himself. Jin caught him, holding his hips to keep him upright as Yoongi sucked his cock.

“That’s it, feels nice, doesn’t it?” Jin murmured in his ear, reaching up to pinch Jungkook’s nipples gently. Jungkook moaned, stroking his fingers through Yoongi’s hair.

“Wanna repay the favor?” He asked softly when Yoongi had sucked all the cream from Jungkook’s cock.

Jungkook nodded. “But—What about you?” He asked, sliding his hand down to palm Jin’s cock.

Jin smirked. “Oh, wanna see what I have too?” He teased. Jungkook nodded.

“Only fair,” Yoongi said as he stood. He slid his own boxers off and they turned to Jin, shedding the final article of clothing he wore as well.

Jin handed Jungkook a piece of ice. “Put it in your mouth… And suck my cock,” he instructed. He took a mouthful of coffee and knelt in front of Yoongi. Glancing up, he winked. He grabbed Yoongi’s cock and gave it a few strokes before slowly sliding it past his closed lips. Yoongi groaned and jerked. A bit of the warm coffee dribbled out, down Jin’s chin and chest. He began to bob his head, and Jungkook could hear the slosh of the coffee in his mouth as he sucked Yoongi.

Jungkook dropped to his hands and knees and placed the ice chip in his mouth. He grabbed Jin’s cock and gave it a few strokes, blowing first gently on it. Jin shuddered and grabbed the back of Jungkook’s neck, squeezing just enough to be known. Jungkook watched goosebumps appear on his thick thighs. He leaned down further and sucked Jin’s cock into his mouth. He flicked the slowly melting ice chip over and around it, using Jin’s grip on the back of his neck to guide what felt the best. Yoongi’s moans were filling the air, as well as the heavy breathing of all three and the wet noises of the two sucking. Jin pulled back and swallowed, gasping and moaning Jungkook’s name. Yoongi sank to the ground and grabbed another ice chip, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. He moved back, allowing Yoongi to take over.

Jungkook stood and grabbed a forkful of the cheesecake. He slowly streaked it down his belly and over his cock, leaving a little bite on the tip of his cock. Jin smirked, his mouth open already. Jungkook guided him to his cock, moaning when Jin took his tip into his mouth. He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the top of the head to get the remnants of cheesecake. He moved up then, shifting as much as he could with his cock in Yoongi’s mouth, and licked and nibbled at Jungkook’s belly. Down, over his cock, firm licks and daring grazes of his teeth that had Jungkook tensing in preparation for pain – and moaning in disbelieving arousal when it didn’t come. He was dribbling precoma freely, and knew he wouldn’t last long. Jin pulled back and moaned, tugging on Yoongi’s hair gently.

“Stop, stop—I’m gonna come,” he whined.

Yoongi pulled back, looking up at him. “Isn’t that the point?” He teased.

Jin chuckled. “I suppose. But it wouldn’t be fair of you to hoard it to yourself, what if Jungkook wanted a taste?”

Jungkook smirked. “He could share with me after it’s already in his mouth, I suppose.”

Jin’s breathing caught, just a bit, and he nodded. “I suppose he could.” He and Yoongi rose and Jin grabbed a small bowl from the fridge. “My homemade frosting,” he explained when Jungkook twitched his head at it. He uncovered the bowl and took a spoon, stirring it. “Yoongi. Come here.”

When Yoongi approached, he slathered the frosting over the length of Yoongi’s thick cock, adding a playful swirl to the dollop at the tip. He looked to Jungkook. “He’s the only one you’ve not tasted yet. Go for it.”

Jungkook sank down and took him into his mouth quickly, moaning around his length. The rich, sweet vanilla cream blended perfectly with Yoongi’s salty precome, dribbling in and teasing him with the promise of more. Jungkook bobbed his head quickly, eager to swallow down both the frosting and Yoongi’s unique taste. Yoongi held back no sounds, tugging softly at Jungkook’s hair as he moaned happily.

Jin dropped down next to Jungkook, shifting to suck and lick at the part of Yoongi’s cock not in Jungkook’s mouth. They switched, taking turns lavishing attention over Yoongi’s cock. Their mouths often met in wet kisses, his cock slotted between their lips. He whined, his hips bucking.

“Please—” He panted. “It’s okay, you can come,” Jin purred, swallowing his cock down. He backed up, letting Jungkook do the same. They kept at it until Yoongi’s cock began to throb. As it did, Jungkook pulled back, holding it towards them and stroking quickly. The ropes of come erupted from his cock, hitting both on the cheeks and open mouths. Jungkook whined softly, feeling a rope shoot over his tongue. As his orgasm faded, Jin grabbed Jungkook’s face, kissing him hard. They cleaned Yoongi’s release from one another with kisses, sharing the salty treat between them.

Yoongi sank down, his legs shaking visibly. He grabbed for Jungkook and Jin’s cocks, stroking one in each hand as they made out. Jungkook pulled back in time to see Yoongi leaning forward, swallowing Jin’s cock down as he stroked Jungkook’s. He switched after a few moments, wrapping his perfect lips around Jungkook’s cock and stroking Jin’s.

“God, I’m already close,” Jungkook whined, holding onto Jin as Yoongi bobbed his head along his shaft.

“Come in his mouth,” Jin murmured. “You can see how much he wants it.”

Yoongi whined in agreement, his breath hot around Jungkook’s cock. He began to bob his head a little faster, reaching up to play with Jungkook’s balls as he did.

“That’s it,” Jin praised, stroking the back of Yoongi’s neck. Jungkook let his head fall onto Jin’s shoulder, his fingers biting into his side as Yoongi’s mouth dragged him closer to orgasm. He grunted, biting his lip. Jin slid his hand down, squeezing Jungkook’s ass. He brushed his finger teasingly over Jungkook’s hole, smirking when he jumped.

“Sensitive,” teased.

Jungkook moaned, pushing his hips forward, pumping into Yoongi’s mouth, and back toward Jin’s hand. The hand disappeared from his ass for a moment. He heard Jin spit and it was back, one finger slipping into his hole. Jungkook shouted in surprise. His hips jerked forward and back, gagging Yoongi.

“Sorry,” he panted, laughing breathlessly as Jin began to finger him. Yoongi gave a thumbs up, shifting to adjust his movements.

Jin found Jungkook’s prostate easily and began to rub and press it, murmuring soft praises in his ear.

Jungkook whimpered. He tugged Yoongi’s hair gently. “I can’t hold back,” he gasped in warning. Yoongi nodded as well as he could and pulled back, focusing his oral work on Jungkook’s tip. He rubbed and pressed his balls gently at the same time Jin pushed a second finger up his ass, scissoring them and rubbing against his spot. Jungkook swore, his legs beginning to shake. His cock jerked as his orgasm hit, spilling ropes of come into Yoongi’s mouth.

Jin slowed his fingers but kept them buried inside Jungkook, rubbing just enough to keep a low level orgasmic buzz running through Jungkook as he milked him dry.

Yoongi rose, his mouth open to show the come in it. He winked at Jungkook before pulling Jin into a deep kiss. Jungkook struggled to stay upright, watching them share his come.

When Yoongi pulled away, Jin withdrew his fingers momentarily.

“Can I keep fingering you while I come?” He asked.

Jungkook smirked tiredly. “Of course.” He bent over the desk, wiggling his ass playfully.

“Wanna finger mine too?” Yoongi teased.

“Well, I’d like to do more than that,” Jin murmured, kissing Yoongi once more. “But I’ll settle for rubbing off on it… If you’ll let me.”

Yoongi immediately bent over the desk next to Jungkook, kissing him softly. Jin added more spit to Jungkook’s hole, going back to fingering him lazily. Jungkook whined, his soft cock still dribbling weak ropes of come at the right pressure on his spot. He glanced over, watching Jin spit on his other hand to slick his cock. He slid it up, along Yoongi’s perky ass, and moaned, immediately beginning to hump against it.

After a while, Jin pulled his fingers free from Jungkook’s hole and squeezed Yoongi’s ass, swearing softly.

“Spread it,” he panted. Yoongi obeyed, spreading his ass open for Jin.

Jin spat against his hole, and Jungkook watched him slide a finger in gently. Yoongi moaned, deep in his chest as he did. Jin removed his finger and lined his cock up, poking the tip gently against Yoongi’s tight hole. He paused, jerking his cock quickly.

He moved over to Jungkook, squeezing his ass.

“Spread,” he panted. Jungkook obeyed, blushing darkly when he heard Jin spit and felt a glob land on his hole. Jin went immediately with his cock, spreading it with the tip and nudging Jungkook’s hole. Slightly more relaxed from the earlier fingering, Jungkook felt his hole give a little, and he moaned.

“Goddamnit,” Jin panted. Jungkook could hear him stroking his cock, the nudges against his hole becoming more persistent. “I wish I could fuck you both,” he grunted.

“Next time I’ll have lube,” Yoongi murmured. “I’d particularly like to see you take Jungkook and pound him against the wall… Looks like you make such pretty sounds with a cock up your ass, Jungkook.”

Jungkook laughed breathlessly, moaning softly. “I think I do… I love begging for it,” he admitted.

Both Jin and Yoongi made appreciative noises.

“I’d like to fuck him after,” Yoongi continued. “Lay him on his his belly right over there… And fuck him after you gape his ass. You could fuck me while I was doing it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jin swore. He moved between them and grabbed the plate of cheesecake, setting it on the table. With a soft groan and a series of rhythmic grunts, Jin came, thick ropes spilling from his cock over the dessert.

Jungkook met Yoongi’s gaze and smirked, understanding the intention. They both grabbed forks and began to cut into the cake, feeding one another the come covered bites over Jin’s cock. He moaned softly, seeming to shudder and relax as they ate. Jungkook scooped up the last bite and stood straight, holding it out for Jin, he took it gladly, meeting Jungkook’s gaze as he chewed and swallowed. He leaned forward, kissing Yoongi and then Jungkook. Jungkook returned the kiss, pulling back to kiss Yoongi as well.

The three redressed and cleaned up the office in relative silence, each seeming to be going over what had happened.

“So… That was… Admittedly a little unexpected,” Yoongi said finally, settling into his chair behind the desk. Jin, for all his gusto, looked a little shy, and Jungkook was worried.

“Was it too much?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t think so. Not for me, at least… What about you two?”

“I liked it,” Jin said. “I had fun and it was a good way to… Try out this dynamic, of all three of us. I’ve never… I’ve never dated more than one person at a time, but I like Jungkook, and I want to try it. And I know it’s where you feel comfortable. So for me, it was nice to sort of… See where we all stood and get close in a new way.”

Jungkook nodded. “I agree. I had said earlier today that I’d be fine with my partner dating someone else, and I kept thinking about that during the day. My mind did wander to Jin a few times, I won’t lie. I think he’s the best match for both of us. He and I have always had our…”

“Rivalry,” Jin filled in, laughing a little, and Jungkook nodded.

“Yes, rivalry. That I have enjoyed. And I obviously care a lot for you, Yoongi… I’m happy with tonight and… I hope we can move forward as a … Well, not really a couple, are we?”

Yoongi laughed. “Not exactly. There’s a lot of words that people have come up with for folks in our dynamic, we can figure it out later. For now I’m content just knowing that there’s no regrets. And that we all want to move forward into… Dating.”

Jungkook and Jin both nodded eagerly.

“How will dating work?” Jungkook asked. “Do the three of us go together? Two at a time? I mean… Since Jin and I, I figured… You are okay with… Wanting to date me too?”

“I’d like to try it,” Jin said, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve never actually had this kind of relationship,” Yoongi admitted, “despite wanting it for so long. I think we’ll have to sit down together and really hash out what each of us need in a relationship, and how the other two can best provide it. I do know that for this sort of thing… We need to be open with each other.”

Yoongi rose as he spoke, going over to Jin and Jungkook. He took each of their hands in his own. “Communicating is the only way this can work, okay? No more secrets, no more unspoken words and passive aggressive pranking.”

Thy all shared a chuckle at that. Jungkook shook his head. “I think pranking has really become Jin and I’s love language… You’re not gonna stop the pranks, Yoongi.”

Yoongi sighed dramatically, grinning. “And here I was hoping I’d get to avoid Jin shouting at seven in the morning when you’ve stolen his mixer yet again.”

Jungkook grinned brightly as Jin laughed.

“Look, that was a good prank!” Jungkook defended.

“Yeah, only because I returned it shutting down your fuse box the next day.”

Jungkook glared, but grinned as he was doing it. “We’ll keep you out of the pranks,” he promised, looking back to Yoongi.

“I don’t mind. Just don’t prank me.”

“It’s late,” Jin said. “Why don’t we all have a light dinner together tomorrow after closing? We can meet here, I’ll bring some stuff from the bakery too, and we can have some of the leftover sandwiches from your café. We can all sit together and really talk about what we need and what we’d like from this sort of relationship.”

Jungkook and Yoongi nodded. “I like that idea. I’d like to think more about it anyways,” Jungkook admitted. “I know I want this, but I’ve not been in a lot of relationships, so… When someone asks me what I want from even a traditional two person… I don’t think I could answer. I need to really think and figure it out.”

“I feel like that’s a fair assessment,” Yoongi said. “I’m in a similar boat. The idea that you’re both… Mine… It’s a lot. I’m happy. I’m just overwhelmed.”

“You never thought you could have this,” Jin said. Yoongi nodded.

“Well you do,” Jungkook stepped forward and hugged Yoongi tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And we might have to figure out the fine-tuning stuff, but you have us. It’s not a dream.”

Yoongi hugged him back, nuzzling his neck. “Thank you.”

“We care a lot about you, Yoongi. No matter what. I think I can speak for Jungkook too when I say that this is a good move for us all. We’re happy, and we’ll be happy like this,” Jin said. He wrapped his arms around them both, enveloping them in a tight hug.

They separated after a moment and Jungkook grabbed his bag. “Come on, we should get going. Do you have any last-minute things to do?”

“No, I’m all closed up here, just have to shut off lights.” Yoongi headed to the back of the office and grabbed his jacket, flicking off the lights and basking them in darkness.

The trio walked to the doors and stepped out into the cool night air, letting Yoongi lock his door. They stood for a moment, all looking at one another in the streetlights. “Well, I go this way,” Jungkook said, jutting his finger in the direction of his bus stop.

“I’m that way too,” Yoongi said.

“I go the other way,” Jin said. He glanced around then stepped forward and kissed Yoongi long and hard. Jungkook chuckled a little at it. It was cute, if he was being honest. Jin glared playfully at him. “What’re you laughing at, punk?” He joked. He grabbed Jungkook’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss as well.

He stood straight and fixed his shirt. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Get home safely,” Yoongi said. They watched Jin walk down the street before turning and walking up it.

“How far up do you go?” Yoongi asked.

“My bus stop is about two blocks away.”

“Do you live very far?”

Jungkook shook his head no. “Only a few miles. Just a little too far to walk or ride a bike in, so I have to do the bus.”

Yoongi nodded. “I only live about half a mile up, so I usually walk it. Do you have a car, for the winter?”

“No, but the bus stop is right outside my apartment so it’s not so bad. The city keeps these streets shoveled well.”

“Hm… Well, we’ll see when winter comes. I have a car, I just don’t bother using it except winter with how close I live. I wonder how far down Jin lives.” He glanced back.

“We can ask him tomorrow.”

They reached Jungkook’s bus stop. Yoongi sighed softly. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“The conversation we had this afternoon gave me so much joy and confidence… Just hearing someone support me and give me hope that I could be truly happy… And then I know you sent Jin to me. Even though you knew it might mean losing me if I didn’t want you as a third, I… Your care means so much.”

Jungkook smiled softly. “I fell for you the minute I saw you, Yoongi. I want you to be happy, no matter what. And getting to be with you… And with Jin… It’s perfect. For as much as he and I argue, he’s an amazing man.”

“He is… And so are you.” Yoongi took Jungkook’s hands and squeezed gently. “I’m so happy that this happened.”

Jungkook grinned, his heart skipping a beat. He leaned forward and kissed Yoongi gently. “My bus will be here soon,” he said, not stepping away from Yoongi. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you.” Yoongi kissed him once more before letting his hands go and heading down the street.

Jungkook sighed heavily, a grin on his face as he did. Though he’d been hoping for a good result from finally confronting his feelings, this was a better one that he’d ever imagined. He knew that their future would be a sweet as the coffee and pastries his new boyfriends created.

#thebtswritersclub #jungkook x seokjin x yoongi #jungkook fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #seokjin smut #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #mywriting

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Reid Fic)

*MY GIF

Summary: Despite her engagement to someone else, Spencer grapples with the reality that he’s in love with SSA Reader when he sees her in her wedding dress.

A/N: I am so fucking proud of Spencer’s speech that I wrote. Playlist: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe + FINNEAS This song hurts so good :,) Category: Fluffy happy ending! Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: possible unrequited love, soft angst Word Count: 6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Call it a superpower or a sixth sense, but I had this inexplicable, preternatural ability to detect when we weren’t heading in the right direction - a skill unaffected by even shut eyes or the deepest slumber.

It seems as though after all these years of being (y/n)’s passenger, my body has developed a survival adaptation in order to offer her guidance before she would even have to ask, or worse - lower her pride and admit she’s lost!

With as hard-headed as she is, she’d sooner drive us to Timbuktu before asking me for help.

I was half-asleep when I peeked through one half-lidded eye to observe where we were only to see she blew right by Gregory Boulevard when she should’ve turned left on it.

“Um, you should make a u-turn at this next light,” I gently advised her before returning my head to its previous position perched on my hand. I closed my eyes again with the presumption she would follow my navigation and make a u-turn, but when I didn’t feel the car change course, I opened them to see that she blew right past the stoplight, too.

“Hey, my apartment’s that way.” I gestured behind us while looking at her for the first time, catching a smug look on her face. That’s when I knew I was in for it. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I grumbled, slumping back into my seat with partially renewed energy. Her little antics never failed to get my heart racing. I never knew whether to expect a sweet sunset or a sea of snakes when it came to her. She was that polarizing. “Can I at least get a hint?” I egged on, considering she had yet to even reply to my first statement.

She was completely unfazed by my pleading. She didn’t even peel her eyes away from the road - that’s how little attention she thought I deserved. “Mmm depends. What’s the magic word?”

This blatant tease was successfully getting a rise out of me. “Pleaseee,” I dragged out the word as if it would do me any good to let her hear it for longer, but in reality, she just liked to hear me beg.

She took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, a chupse, to express her displeasure before saying, “Ooh tough luck. The magic word was actually mushroom, but nice try.”

A mirthless chuckle escaped me for willingly falling for her tricks despite knowing she’d pull something just like that. This girl was the bane of my existence, but at least she still rewarded me with a hint anyway.

“Your hint is …” While pondering what hint to give me, her eyes traveled to the side, away from the road long enough to make my heart palpitate in a “if-she-doesn’t-pay-attention-to-the-road, we’re-both-gonna-die” kind of way.

“... something old.”

Again, she tore her eyes away from the road so she could register my reaction, but truthfully, I didn’t have one. I had no idea what that hint meant. Or rather I had too many ideas, far too many to limit to just one.

She could’ve been talking about the age of a location, the history of a place, the vintage appearance of something - virtually anything.

“There’s an infinite amount of possibilities about what that could mean,” I argued. “If you actually want me to guess, you’ll have to give me something more.”

As expected, she was not a fan of my whining and simply rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, stop complaining and use that big brain of yours. I’m sure you’ll figure it out before we even get there.”

Although there was a high probability she was right that I could’ve solved it by myself, it was more enticing to feed off of what she could give me. “What if I ask you ‘yes or no’ questions?”

The gears in her head were turning as she weighed the pros and cons of humoring my offer. “You better ask some good questions then,” was her answer, which was the long way of saying yes.

“Is this ‘something old’ an object?”

She hesitated, then decided on, “No.” So I took that as maybe.

“Is this ‘something old’ a place?”

There was no indecision with this answer. “No.”

“Is this ‘something old’ as in appearance?”

Again, a partial hesitation, but still ultimately a, “No.”

Realizing I pretty much exhausted the tangible, I settled for something more abstract. “Is this ‘something old’ a concept?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

Her answer would prove to be redundant, as just seconds after we would arrive at our mystery destination.

Ellie’s Bridal Boutique.

“Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.” I recited to myself under my breath when I finally unearthed the meaning. The rhyme was a wedding tradition that referred to the things a bride is supposed to wear on her wedding day that’s meant to provide protection and prosperity for the new couple - a superstition.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” She mimicked the sound of a winning buzzer. “And you are going to be my something old.”

A short chuckle left me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do - wear me?” I jested.

“Well you are a very pretty boy, but I don’t know if you’re pretty enough to wear down the aisle.”

“So then how am I going to be your something old? I’m only two years older than you.”

She stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk to reach for my hand. I’d be lying if I said the chilling warmth of it didn’t make my breath hitch. My eyes fell to where our bodies met, but they rose to look at her again when she finally spoke.

“You’re the very first person I met when I started working in the BAU, which makes you my oldest friend on the team, and since you were the first one that saw me, I wanted you to be the first one that saw me in my dress, too.”

I was already aware that she’d picked out her wedding gown months before, so this appointment couldn’t have been anything more than an alteration update. The only reason I knew that, besides the obvious, was because I could still remember with perfect clarity the morning she came into work after her fitting. She marched right up to my desk to wave a picture of her in the garment right in my face. It wasn’t until I drew back with my head that I could see the image clearly. The dress, while incredibly stunning on her, ‘didn’t fit right’ - her words, not mine.

“But that’s not how it’s actually gonna look on me. I asked them to take in the waist, change the neckline, and alter the length.” She vividly described to me, letting her finger run over the digital photo of the dress as she spoke. “Do you see what I mean?”

I lied when I said, “Yeah, I do,” because really, I didn’t need her to describe the details to me - I could already see the vision. Even if the dress was the wrong color, length, and ‘poofiness,’ I’d still think she’d look lovely.

It was my only hope that her future husband would think so, too.

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here for my alteration with Reagan at 4.” Just as quickly as she introduced herself to the receptionist, she was being whisked away by an older woman who seemed to have recognized her.

“Oh, (y/n)! It’s so good to see you again! Come, come, your dress is ready. I just know you’ll love it.”

Before she slipped out of my vision completely, (y/n) turned around to address me. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here.”

I raised my hand in the air to give a short acknowledgment goodbye and followed her instruction to sit in the chair that lied directly in front of a circular raised platform.

“Are you the groom?” A soft voice from beside me suddenly asked. I looked up to see it was the receptionist holding a tray with a glass of champagne.

“Oh, I’m okay thank you,” I denied the alcohol with a shake of my head. “And no, no I’m not. Just an … an old friend.” Again, her words, not mine.

It would come as a surprise to both me and you that with as much as I know about the world, I had no idea how long this would take before I saw her again. With my estimates, it should take maybe fifteen minutes maximum before she walked out in her dress, but who knows? It’s (y/n) after all. She runs on her own clock. The sun rises and sets on her.

At least in my world it does.

By around minute 17, I realized my estimates were way off and there was no way she’d be coming out any time soon, so with all that I could do in that store having been done already, the only thing left for me to do was read. Nothing of quality, though. Just those frivolous bridal magazines on the coffee table beside me. I didn’t even want to think about the germs and bacteria that were harboring on these reading materials, but if it meant it’d cure my boredom then perhaps the contraction of microbes would be worth it.

To say I wasn’t well-versed in fashion would be an understatement and reading the subscriptions only emphasized that further. To put it in perspective, you could style my future bride in a medieval frock and it wouldn’t discourage me whatsoever because I simply have no understanding of what a ‘good’ wedding dress is, therefore, I cannot make an accurate comparison.

Take, for example, the dress on page 17 of Modern Bride. The model was donning a high neck, long sleeve creme satin dress. I thought it looked quite nice and classic, but the excerpt described it as totally out of style and too old - a faux pas.

But when comparing that dress to the gown on page 24 of The Bride’s Guide, I couldn’t spot a single difference between the two, yet this passage was written in complete adoration. “This dress is vintage done right,” said the article. But to me - they were exactly identical! What was wrong with the first one?

Maybe it was a good thing grooms weren’t allowed to help pick wedding dresses because if I had to assist my bride in picking her’s, then, of course, it would be bad luck! I’d probably pick something utterly horrendous!

I had to admit it was slightly humiliating to confront my incompetence relating to wedding dresses, so before my self-esteem plummeted any further, I set the magazines back in their rightful place on the coffee table so they could once again be what they were always intended for - extraneous decor.

With a flick of my watch, I noted the period of waiting had only increased by three minutes. Again, I had yet to master the art of wedding garment fittings, but how was 20 minutes not enough time to put a dress on? However, unlike my better half, I had (relatively) zero problems admitting my ignorance, whereas she’d rather drive us off a cliff or into a lake before letting me know she was lost.

In surrender to my lack of knowledge, I rose from my seat to approach the receptionist and ask if she had a more accurate estimate for how long it would be until I saw (y/n) again. But as it turns out, any estimate she might’ve been able to tell me would’ve been completely wrong for she wouldn’t have even been able to finish her answer before the aforementioned future bride entered the space behind me.

Remember before when I said I had no gauges of good fashion to outrank a medieval frock? Well, I stand corrected.

(Y/n) in her dress is what I will measure everyone against. And no one will ever compare.

“Wow…” The word came out of my mouth before I could think to stop it. My tone was so honest that it scared me. “I’m - You’re …” I was at a total loss for words that I had to sit back down to hopefully regain some clarity. She laughed at my stupidity with a laugh so gentle, I couldn’t not laugh back.

“That good, huh?”

I wordlessly nodded while my mouth lied openly in waiting. But the right words never came out; there just weren’t any that could capture this vision of perfection in front of me.

My mannerisms had clearly already given away the true level of my admiration, so in an effort to lessen the enormity of my obvious wonderment, I reluctantly broke my gaze away from the angel in white and picked up a magazine on the table to perfect the notion of nonchalance.

“You look . . .” She impatiently waited for my addition, even doing the most adorable little twirl in her dress to give me the full view in the meantime. “Nice,” was the adjective I settled for, as it was such a thoughtless response that perhaps it would convince her that there weren’t a million thoughts on my mind. The most recurring one, and arguably the most troubling one being: I think I’m in love with you.

“Nice?” She repeated like the word stung her tongue, more out of mock offense than earnest disappointment. “You’re reading your magazine upside down so it’s gotta be better than nice.”

I bashfully looked down to find that, sure enough, her words were true. The magazine was upside down and therefore a total revelation of just how ‘nice’ I really thought she looked.

I tried to hide my smile behind my knuckles as I pressed a fist to my lips, deciding on the most sincere compliment I could give her.

“Nobody holds a candle to you, (y/n),” I nodded in affirmation. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

After saying so, I nonchalantly - well as nonchalantly as one could when caught slack-jawed and completely in awe - reoriented the catalog. Had I glanced up even a second later, I might not have caught her reaction to my words and the way they made her smile uncontrollably. I looked back down at the magazine with a smirk, giving it a brief flick to open up the pages all the way to me and parrot the motions one would make if they were actually reading.

We both knew I wasn’t though.

It seemed I never left that wedding boutique because even as we arrived outside my apartment later that day, my mind was still there, stuck on the future bride in her gown.

“Earth to Spencer!” She waved her hand in front of me to grab my attention despite already having it. “We’re here!” She announced. Who was I kidding? She always had my attention. I only wish it didn’t take me this long to realize that the reason she was constantly at the front of my mind was that I loved her.

Nearly about to exit the car, the millionth and one thought rang in my head like a bell - wedding bells, if you will.

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

At a tantalizingly slow speed, I released the doorknob and turned back towards her.

“...I love you.”

She furrowed her brows and shrugged with her mouth, forming a confused pout. “I love you, too, Reid?” She kind of laughed when she said it, so I knew she thought this was just a friend sending off a friend goodbye, but I couldn’t let her think that’s what I meant.

“No, not like that.” I clarified with the utmost candor. “I’m in love with you.” I shook my head when I said it which, in any other context, might make you think I was lying, but the shake of my head was merely the physical manifestation of every bone in my body knowing I shouldn’t be saying this, but my heart still having the audacity to do it anyway.

I confessed with that brutally honest tone again, the one so raw and vulnerable it leaves you nauseous and breathless all at once as you anxiously anticipate the other person’s response to your vulnerability. But I couldn’t even meet her eyes, I was too scared. Even if I had, they would’ve been vacant. Her spirit had vanished from her body, and in its departure left just the shell of a woman who was completely void of color. Her flushed face was a remnant of the shock that paralyzed her and it wouldn’t disappear even as I tried to bring her color back.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I wish I had better timing - trust me, I will beat myself up later for not saying it sooner. But I promise you, I am not trying to ruin things between you two and I would never actually try to stand in the way of your wedding - you have to believe me. I want you to be happy and if he’s what makes you happy, then I will live with that. I just had to tell you now because ... if you married him without ever knowing how I felt, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

This was true - I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t said anything - but now that I have - will she be able to forgive me?

Vacant stares turned into piercing glares that drove, what felt like, a thousand daggers right through my heart. She was looking at me as though I were a stranger - completely unrecognizable to her.

(Y/n), it’s me. It’s Spencer. Don’t you remember me? My heart pleaded. I’m still the same guy I was before. I’m the first friend you made on the team, remember? I’m your something old. Please, please remember me.

By the time I came to the woeful conclusion that she wouldn’t reply, at least not now, there was only one question weighing on my heart heavily enough to make me ask it before I left her car.

“Would it have been better if I didn’t tell you?”

My question stayed answerless even as I lingered at the door after getting out, waiting for one. I knew I should’ve closed it, but I couldn’t. In many ways, it would’ve been shutting the only open vessel to her, formally closing myself off from our friendship. The possibility of losing her as soon as I walked away was too real, and I wasn’t ready yet.

“Please, (y/n), talk to me.” It was a trending theme to have every word I spoke be underlined by this profound piteousness. “Say something.” Say anything.

“I ... I need to get home,” She quietly whimpered, practically begging me to let her go. Up until then, I didn’t want to, but I suddenly wished I had shut the door sooner so that I might not have had to hear the quiet addition, “To my fiancé.”

The color she was so void of in her face? It seems I must have recompensed, for not only was I crowned her something old that day, but I was also her something blue.

_ _ _

If there were a guidebook on all the things to do as the love of your life’s wedding (to someone else) nears, I’d like to think I was following all the protocol.

Since my not-so-subtle confession, I had yet to press the subject or force her for an answer to my final question, which I think she was thankful for. I also hadn’t plotted a giant scheme to ruin the wedding, nor did I have any intentions of doing so.

For all intents and purposes, I was acting as a gentleman (who’s in love with you but whom you’re not marrying) ideally should.

You would think that after my big declaration, (y/n) would do everything in her power to avoid me. It’s what I would’ve done. But she’s no coward. That exact heart of gold I fell in love with made no exceptions. Because even after what I did, she still had it in her to extend her kindness to me.

She’s stubborn like that, remember?

And though she was showering me with a treatment I didn’t deserve, it still wasn’t enough for my greedy heart.

The true pain lied in the pretending. Every day I would have to come to work and talk with her and laugh with her and smile with her - I would have to be her friend … pretending that was all that I wanted and nothing more.

It was both a blessing and a curse that she was acting just as she always had with me. It may seem weird to have expected, nay - wanted - a different reaction from her, but I just wanted something. At least, if she was angry, then I would know what I said had some effect on her, but she was just so indifferent. Like what I said didn’t matter.

It’s been said that there is a thin line between love and hatred. Hate and love both seem to be involved in the neural processing of what is sometimes referred to as the arousal effect of emotion - this is a technical term, so arousal can be negative. Scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love – although love and hate appear to be polar opposites. Therefore, the same brain circuitry is involved in both extreme emotions. So, as strange as it may sound, if she didn’t love me, then I at least wanted her to hate me, just so I’d know she had any passion for me that matched my burning passion for her.

But as it turns out, she would never go on to display signs of hatred or love, for she never acted passive-aggressively, never gave me the silent treatment - nothing. Nope, she just acted as if it never happened. She went on with her life, essentially expecting me to do the same, but how could I carry on with life while she was still carrying half of my heart with her?

It’s an impossible feat, that - to walk around with half a heart. And it’s one that has not gotten easier with time. If anything, time has made it worse, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more difficult it became for me to hold back. And with this exponential growth, it was only inevitable that the pinnacle of difficulty came right before the wedding.

Before shit hit the fan, she arranged, or rather insisted, that I give a speech at the dinner rehearsal. That hadn’t changed, despite almost everything else having done so. Up until the minute I arrived at the venue, I could’ve recited that speech a million times, forwards and backwards, in my sleep, or even in Russian. But I lost any ability to form coherent thoughts from the second I laid eyes on her.

As soon as I opened the door, she stood at the entrance to greet her guests, having taken a radiant form that I could only imagine would not pale in comparison to what she would look like tomorrow on her actual wedding day. That thought alone scared me shitless.

If this is how beautiful she looked tonight and it was only just the rehearsal, how would I ever be able to resist her less than 24 hours from now when she would be marrying a man I could only dream of being half so lucky as?

“Spencer!” Familiar crinkles formed around her eyes as a result of her gigantic smile when she saw me and hugged me thereafter. Her embrace was strangely tighter and lasted for longer than usual, not that I was complaining, but I had to wonder if she was compensating for something. What’s that saying - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Was she killing me with kindness? That might’ve been wishful thinking though. Because the same flash of indifference I’d been dealt in recent times came back into her face and tone after hugging me. “You’re at table five with the rest of the team.”

“Oh, thanks.”

That was it? Just a ‘Spencer!’ and then a nudge in the direction of my seat? No questions about my speech? No threatening comments to not say anything that would ruin the charade we’d been playing for months now? Had she forgotten I was even giving a speech?

“Oh, wait, Spencer!” I felt her hand on my shoulder before I heard her voice. “You left this in my car a couple months ago. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you, but I didn’t remember until today.”

The first thing that raised a red flag was what she was saying. I’d left something in her car? That would imply that I’d forgotten something, and we both knew that wasn’t possible. But the second suspicious element was the matter of what she claimed I’d left behind. She was handing me a book with the back cover facing me. From the looks of it alone, it wasn’t mine. Clearly, it wasn’t mine. I knew every single book that resides on my shelves and this one has never once crossed them. That, on top of the new book smell and the lack of a wear in the spine, was enough to tell me that not only was this a book I’d never read nor was one to grace my bookshelf, but it was most certainly not one I would have left behind.

She was lying.

She saw the realization dawn on me, but knowing I would mention it, her hand’s grip around my wrist, which I hadn’t noticed was even there in the first place, tightened, sending me a message.

She knew I saw the deception. There were so many flaws in what she was saying, that she couldn’t have possibly been clueless of them. It was too easy. Or maybe that was by design. She wanted me to figure out it was a lie. But why?

What was she hiding?

The final thing to leave me when she did was her hand. In its place, it had left a a near perfect indentation in my sleeve. How flawlessly it sculpted to her hand told me just how tightly she was holding me. What was she trying to say?

That’s when I flipped the book over to see the cover.

Can Love Happen Twice?

And right on the inside cover page was scribbled - in a handwriting so distinctive it could only belong to one person and one person alone - “Yes.”

_ _ _

My heart was racing the entire night as I anxiously awaited for the moment to give my speech. Nothing seemed to ease the tension. Not a sip of water, not the loosening of my tie, not the self-soothing bouncing of my leg. But all it took, all it took was one glance from her and suddenly, the storm within me had settled.

“Next up we have a speech from Spencer Reid!”

I rose from my seat like a floundering mess, as to be expected, because how can you possibly catch your bearings as you’re about to make a speech to a room full of people?

“H-hi there. I’m Dr. Spen- I’m Spencer Reid. I’ve worked with (y/n) for several years now and - and so I, um, I wrote this speech for her, so, so I’m gonna read it to you all now,” My stammering had gotten the best of me, so before I could unravel into the mess I surely came off as right about now, I spun from my previous position facing the majority to facing only her. I needed to see her. I needed the reprieve of her eyes again, and she was happy to give it to me.

“(Y/n), from the moment I met you, I thought who is she? And I mean that quite literally because I had no idea who you were and why you were there,” Laughter from the crowd erupted, but her laugh was the only one that mattered to me. “But also because there was just something about you that told me I needed to talk to you. I had no idea what that instinct to strike up a conversation with you would lead to, but I trust my gut a little more now because that very intuition gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

To my words, an endeared pout formed on her face. She was touched, and I was glad.

“Over the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years we’ve spent together, I have enjoyed every single measure of time with you. You have taught me more about life and myself than I could have ever learned otherwise - which says a lot,” This once again brought her to laughter. “So I thank you for that, because without you, there would be no one to tell my campfire stories to, there would be no one who could recite Jung or Freud with me, and there would be no one I’d have to correct when they drive down the wrong path,” My own chuckle cut my sentence short.

“Life with you has simply been made better, and my only hope is that tomorrow, as you get married, you too, will experience that eternal bliss with which you have surely bestowed upon everyone who has had the privilege of knowing you.”

By now both of us were on the verge of tears, hers more apparent than mine as she used the palm of her hand to stifle her sniffles.

“There is so much more I could say about how great you are, but your favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, has said it best. ‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful’,” A tear ran down her cheek as my own eyes welled up beyond their means. “So to you both - may you have a life as beautiful as the bride.”

Even if that life isn’t with me.

I tuned out all the clapping and cheering, and set my focus solely on her, giving me full liberty to see the way she rose from her chair and escaped the room. Not even shock could paralyze me or stop me from running after her. I sprung so fast into action, which required the maximum amount adrenaline, although I could not credit my speed to the rush, but it was more the exclusive motivation to find her that powered me. The entire time I kept calling out her name as I frantically chased her out of the venue.

“Spencer.”

I didn’t even see her there at first, probably because I was half-expecting her to be jumping into a cab or running away from me some more when I found her, but just as before, she made it too easy for me. She was waiting for me, standing there in no spectacular fashion.

The wind was blowing strands of hair in her face that were not so large so that I couldn’t see the red rings around her eyes that were caused by the irritation and formation of tears. She was simply staring back at me with this look in her eyes as if she wanted to say something.

In the silence, I could still appreciate how astonishingly gorgeous she was. How badly I wanted her. I would’ve whisked her away and taken her as mine if I knew it would make her happy. But that’s just it - I didn’t know.

I needed her to say it. So say it.

Say it, darling.

Spoken through a congested voice (which spoke volumes in reality because of the mere revelation that she was indeed crying) was the plainest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she vanished back into the restaurant, leaving me to my devices on the sidewalk.

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to.

_ _ _

Perhaps the false confidence in my speech or what little she had to say to me after it or even the hidden message in the book got to my head, but whatever it was, I was feeling suspiciously alright. Luckily, that feeling didn’t deviate even as I made my way to the church.

Upon arrival, everything seemed exactly as it should be, so consequently the lack of something out of place did not adequately denote what lied just beyond those doors. Or should I say what didn’t?

Much to my mortification, it was a completely empty church. Every pew, though decorated for a wedding, was uninhabited and showed no indications of having been such recently. As I walked further in, the door automatically shut behind me with a loud bang. It would’ve shocked me more had something else not caught my attention already.

It was (y/n), standing at the altar … completely alone.

Suddenly, it felt like I’d been drawn in by this invisible gravity, which was now floating me down the aisle. My feet could not carry me to her fast enough.

I was sure this was some kind of dream simply by the way the light gleamed through the stained glass windows, casting banners of golden luminescence on her. It was as if heaven itself had come down with the specific delegation to illuminate the vision of one of its fallen angels.

“(Y/n)?” My voice reverberated throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the high, painted ceilings and back to me. “Where is everyone?”

It wasn’t until I reached a certain point in the middle aisle, that I realized her veil had been covering her face this entire time. The angel in white only turned more heavenly when she flipped the veil backward, revealing herself to me.

It took her a moment to answer, but it was her head that answered first before her mouth did. She began shaking her head slowly, followed by a short, unequivocal, “No.”

As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded. “No?” That answer wouldn’t have made sense in the context of what I had previously asked.

“No.” She repeated, with somehow even more definitiveness. I decided it was best to stay silent and wait for her explanation.

“No, it wouldn’t have been better if you didn’t tell me.”

There was my answer I’d been searching for.

“God, Spencer - what took you so long?”

From the breathlessness and the rushed cadence of her voice, I knew precisely what was coming next. She instantaneously abandoned the bouquet she’d been clutching in favor of her hands’ ability to pull me in. The pressure on my fragile skull when our frenzied lips finally met was not a punishment so much as it was a reward. And just as we began to find our rhythm, I slid my hand into her hair, which I began to regret when I realized just how much time and effort probably went into its structuring. I pulled away the moment I felt a carefully placed pin lodged within her hair slip between my fingers.

True, for a moment I was unable to open my eyes afterward from the sheer elation I was experiencing, but as I came to, I found myself looking at the hairpin I’d accidentally extracted from her curls, one that I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fellow coworker of ours donning in the past.

“Is this -”

“Yep, it’s Penelope’s.” She admitted through the most debonair giggles. After giving her a quizzical, and only partially judgmental glance, she managed to blurt out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my ‘something borrowed’!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid kiss #criminal minds #juniorgman187 #something borrowed something blue

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

Knitted

Relationship: Din Djarin x Reader Warnings: N/A Summary: Din notices you've begun keeping something from him, constantly hiding away at night. Finally deciding to confront you, you give him the most adorable surprise. A/N: this isn’t exactly a Valentine’s Day but I thought it was just the right amount of soft and fluffy to post on the day of love :) MASTERLIST

Din realized something was odd the day you came back from the market lugging along two overflowing, large bags. You weren’t exactly one to just splurge for any reason having known way too well the importance of budgeting so to see you arriving back to the ship under the weight of items was confusing.

He tried peaking into the bag but was only able to make out a mirage of colors before you quickly closed it and starting shooing him away. Din tried asking what all that stuff was but you ignored it, attention now set on finding a place for your newly purchased items.

Stuff started to get even weirder with you when you began hiding away in the evening. If in motion, he’d find you in random areas of the ship, your back always to him as your hands worked away at something. When he’d call your name, you’d clean up your supplies and spend the rest of the night with him, very good at pretending nothing was going on.

While situated on some planet or another, you’d take your project outside, furiously working in whatever field you found yourselves in. You’d still make sure your back was to the ship, covering whatever you were doing.

Din would watch you sometimes, greatly confused but hesitant to ask. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel he was overbearing. He knew you could handle your own and hoped you’d come to him in time with… whatever was going on.

But things were even more peculiar when you began allowing Grogu to join you in your work, still denying Din even a hint. He was stunned when he realized this while looking for the child one night. Giggling coos came from outside, driving his interest, and sure enough, there was the little guy sitting across from you, absolutely captivated.

Suddenly, both of you appeared to be keeping something from him. While he didn’t exactly feel anger or worry (What could you possibly conspire with a child?) he certainly felt a tinge of jealousy. Din didn’t want to admit it at first but, yes, he was jealous of the green creature.

Still, though, he tried not to pry. He’d pretend to be just as busy or involved with one thing or another on the ship. You really didn’t seem to notice him faking tasks.

But he had to admit, the loss of your attention from time to time was driving him kind of insane. Sure, you’d accompany him throughout the day and sit with him chatting away in the mornings but the second the opportunity arose, you were off.

Finally, one day, Din decided he was going to at least ask what was up with you. He wasn’t going to be all demanding or intimidating he was just going to ask a simple question with hopes of you letting him in.

It was like any other night as you were seated outside the ship with your back to the ramp, per usual. The child was with you, seemingly very comfortable sitting on your lap. His big ears were peaking out, giving his position away.

Din could faintly hear you going on about something as he was making his way to you, but before he could get very close, you picked up on his presence and collected your items. Moving the child off your lap, you stood up, hands behind your back. You and Grogu stood watching Din as he approached.

"Hi, honey," you smiled innocently at the Mandalorian stomping his way towards you, clearly with a distinct purpose.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, watching your suspicious stance.

"Of course," you nodded. "Why? What’s wrong?"

"I- What’s wrong?" He scoffed but instantly regretted it, realizing his plans of asking a "simple" question were going off the rails very quickly. "I should be asking you that."

"Well, nothing’s wrong here," you said and looked down towards the child. He was glancing between you two. "We’re okay, right?" Grogu cooed in response.

Din just sighed. "What’s with all the disappearing and secrecy? I don’t mean to be nosy, cyar’ika, but it’s getting concerning-,"

"Give me an hour," you blurted out.

"Huh?" Din asked, suddenly dumbfounded by your response. He had just gotten back on his original goal ready with his speech and yet you were already stopping him.

"Give me an hour," you repeated. "I’ll show you what I’ve been working on."

He nodded, "Okay. One hour."

You smiled, nodding back all seriously as he had. "One hour."

***

Exactly one hour later, Din came marching back out only to find in standing in a different spot. The child was nowhere to be seen but from the way you were standing eagerly in front of what looked like some wood debris, something in him told him where he’d find the little guy. This did nothing but add another layer of complete bewilderment.

"So, you really want to know what I’ve been up to?" You teased, rocking back and forth on your feet.

Din sighed, "Cyar’ika…,"

"Okay, okay," you said and stepped to the side, arms outstretched in presentation fashion. "Ta-da!"

What you had to show was far from anything Din could’ve ever expected. There, standing on the debris, was Grogu draped in a long knitted sweater complemented by a tiny matching hat. He waved his little arms in equal excitement as you both looked to Din for a reaction.

"What…?" He was suddenly at a loss for words. Had you done this? Had you been putting together clothes for the child this entire time? A million things ran through his mind as his heart was melting from watching the pride in your eyes.

Kneeling in front of the child, he touched the sweater, almost in disbelief that it was real, and then turned to look back at you. You took a seat next to him, smile as wide and excited as ever.

"I made him some outfits," you said, reaching into your jacket pocket to pull out some more articles of knitted clothing. You handed some to Din for which he stared at, still speechless. "I thought the sweater and hat were the best to show you first but I also have some gloves, socks, even more sweaters-,"

"You made all these? That’s what you’ve been doing?" He finally asked, accidentally cutting off your rambling.

You nodded, "Yeah."

Din got quiet again as he looked over everything, gently inspecting the items. Suddenly feeling embarrassed by his lack of substantial words, you turned your attention to Grogu. You watched as he had begun picking up the tiny gloves to put on. You chuckled at his fascination for the pieces, grateful someone seemed to like them.

"Cyar’ika, I can’t believe it," Din mumbled, placing the garment he was holding back with the others.

"Is- Is it okay?" You nervously asked, still looking towards the child who had just figured out how to put on gloves. He let out little coos at his accomplishment.

"It’s incredible," Din finally answered, now joining you in watching Grogu enjoy the new outfit choices. Your heart nearly burst at his words. A rush of relief came over you as the fear of accidentally overstepping had been creeping in your mind. "You seriously did all this for him?"

You couldn’t help the smile starting to break out on your face again.

"Yeah, I did," you nodded. "I thought he deserved some kind of wardrobe and I got a good deal on the yarn at the market so, I went for it."

Din took one last glance at the clothes before fully turning to you. You just shyly met his dark visor’s gaze.

"Why did you keep it from me?" He asked, softly.

You chuckled, "Why would I tell you when we could give you a little fashion show instead?"

Din couldn’t help but give a small laugh at your explanation. Warmth filled you as you took in his reaction to your project.

"You’re so great," Din whispered as he brought his hand to face, caressing your cheek softly. The warmth was traveling to your face now causing you to unsuccessfully suppress yourself from blushing at his touch.

"Din…" you sighed, practically melting into his hand.

"I mean it," he mumbled, his thumb brushing over your lips. "I know I don’t say it enough but you’re the best partner I could’ve asked for."

You swore your heart skipped a full beat at his words. You pulled his hand from your face and intertwined your fingers. Leaning closer, you gave a sweet kiss to his helmet. Din let out a content sigh at the action.

"You don’t need to say it," you whispered. "You show it every day."

Din had half the nerve to rip off his helmet right then and there and finally soak in your glorious kisses when he heard those words fall off your lips. You must’ve known what he was thinking as you gripped his hand tighter and went in to give another kiss to his helmet — but, of course, someone had to pipe up beside you. Incoherent babbling put a halt to your actions.

You turned to find Grogu standing in front of you two, watching with those curious eyes. He was holding up another long sweater you had made, motioning it up towards you.

Din looked at him, trying to make out whatever he was trying to communicate. "What?"

"Someone is demanding a wardrobe change," you chuckled. "Models are such divas."

Din laughed along as he started helping you get the little guy into a new outfit. When he was content, the child did little spins showing off his little outfit, making yours and Din’s heart absolutely melt.

An arm was slung over your shoulder suddenly as Din pulled you into him. You happily accepted, wrapping your arms around him, nestling your head into his armor-covered chest. You two sat in some silence for a moment or so watching Grogu admire the pieces and work out different accessories.

"I love you, you know," Din mumbled. "A lot."

You giggled, I love you more."

He scoffed, "Impossible, cyar’ika."

#din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin oneshot #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandolarian #the mandalorian oneshot #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars one shot #star wars fanfiction #writing*#oneshot #fluff

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

Text

That’s My Girl (Emmett x Reader)

This was requested by an anon and it did hit home a bit since I’ve struggled with body image issues since I was 13 and it does take a lot on finding a balance and it’s a long and painful process. Enjoy!

T.W+ Statement. I am in no way, shape or form taking lightly the case of body image issues that will be mentioned on this imagine, it is a real struggle and so many people suffer because of it, I’m just trying to bring some light and show what I think the said character would do at this particular scenario

(Y/n) was always the bigger one of her family, weighted more than her sisters and wore two sizes bigger than her sisters, yet her sisters were the only people that had her back. Her own mother made it a mission to bring up calories and carbs every time she saw her eat something.

As she entered her teen years, things started to change and grow bigger and in her classmates eyes... uglier, fatter. She was bullied a lot and also quietly, she felt like even if she did speak to her parents they would take their side and tell her to do some extra workouts.

Eventually she did, she worked out more and counted calories and fasted, even had a few trips to the bathroom, anything that would work and get the weight of her body and her shoulders. It became a vicious cycle, she would gain and lose and do the same stuff all over again. Until she met Emmett, his face was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes after fainting in the schools parking lot. Edward had warned him about your thoughts of feeling dizzy and thinking “get to the car” over and over again.

“Welcome back pretty lady”

It sounded corny, yet it was one of the sweetest things she had ever heard. She smiled at the best of her abilities and started looking around, slowly realizing what had occurred

“Don’t worry, no one saw”

“Except the entire school, this is so embarrassing”

As she got back up on her feet as fast as she could, darkness engulfed her for a second, a second was enough for her knees to go weak and fall into Emmett’s arms, who was more than lucky to have her there, her short and delicate human body brought him anxiety he hadn’t felt in... decades.

“Sorry about that”

“No don’t apologize, you are my damsel in distress”

“Really? then how should I repay you?”

“A date might make up for my heroic act”

Since then they had been a couple, she didn’t really have a choice since Emmett would show up everywhere and help her do anything and everything, he had even endured 2 hours waiting at the hair salon for her.

(Y/n) was on cloud 9, finally a man that treated her like she had only seen in her movies and cared for her. Also the fact that he was extremely handsome was a big bonus, as well as a source of anxiety for her appearance, she was so overwhelmed by her new relationship that she had not seen that she had gained a bit of “relationship weight”, for her though this was a disaster. In her mind she was already overweight, this just was the cherry on top to her maliciously rude mind.

“Babe are you ready yet?”

“5 more minutes”

Emmett was getting a bit suspicious. She had been in there throwing clothes around the room, groaning and grunting for almost 2 hours, (y/n) would usually be ready once he was there, she hated not being on time.

She hated this, nothing fitted her the way it was supposed to, she looked fat and ugly into every single outfit, nitpicking herself apart in every single piece of clothing. She was basically tip toeing around a mental breakdown, just as she was about to zip up yet another pair of jeans she heard her bedroom door open and reveal a concerned Emmett.

“Get out I said I’m not ready”

As he closed the door he looked around and took in the chaos that was her room right now, (y/n) was usually very tidy so this couldn’t mean anything good.

“I know that’s why I came in, what’s going on baby girl?”

“I have no clothes that’s what’s going on”

“Weird, I could swear I see some right there on your bed”

He tried to make a light joke that didn’t really get a great crowd reaction out of it. As (Y/n) ran around to find a shirt Emmett stood there looking at her, trying to piece things together and maybe find a way to help her.

“If you want maybe I can Alice to bring you a few pieces”

“Alice is s literal model, I will tear anything she has”

She snapped back at him. He was stepping on shaky ground and felt helpless, something that (y/n) quickly realized that she had created. She let out a deep sigh and placed her fingers on her temples, slightly massaging them

“I’m sorry, I’m just... stressed”

“About what? talk to me”

Emmett took a step and sat down on her bed, waiting for his girlfriend to come and take a seat on his lap. As she instinctively did exactly that she tried to keep some of her weight by keeping herself on her toes. Emmett didn’t even think twice about placing her entire weight on him and bringing her close to his chest.

“Do you think I’m fat?”

“What? what are you talking about?”

“I just... I am so much bigger than Alice and Bella and let’s not even go to Rosalie, they are all like... stick status and I’m just this cow that’s dating a body builder”

Emmet was left stunned, speechless. He could not believe what he was hearing, his true mate, his little delicate human, his short girl that he loved to bring into a hug and feel her getting lost in his big form, was thinking of herself as fat? They couldn’t be talking about the same girl he would pick up like she was a feather and the girl he would worry about eating and being healthy.

“(Y/n) don’t ever say that again, you are beautiful and why does it matter if you are bigger than Bella, I’m bigger than Edward too... are you calling me fat?”

“Noooo”

“Yes, yes you are. I knew it that you would leave me for someone thinner”

“Stop, I’m being serious”

“Look baby as long as I can throw you over my shoulder I will see nothing wrong with you”

His response did make her feel better but it wasn’t all fixed up, it didn’t work like that. Although it did feel nice to hear him say those things. Emmett leaned in to steal a sweet little kiss from her lips in hopes to make her feel better and comfort her the best he could.

“You are my perfect small girlfriend, I bet you look like a toothpick standing next to me. In all seriousness I have never and I will never see anything wrong with your body, you are perfect”

She smiled at him as she let her head rest on his shoulders, letting his words sink in and process them. He truly embodied everything she wanted in a boyfriend, he respected her and appreciated her to the max.

“Now, what to do you think about wearing a nice outfit and going to the movies with me?”

“Alright”

“That’s my girl, I’ll wait outside”

#emmett cullen one shot #emmett cullen imagine #emmett imagines #emmett cullen x reader #emmett cullen x you #emmett cullen x oc #twilight imagine #twilight one shot #twilight headcanon #twilight #twilight x reader #emmett x reader #emmett cullen headcanon #cullen imagines #emmett cullen

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sturchling · 4 years

Text

Salt-fic September Day 2: Pick

Marinette’s life had gone downhill fast. After the incident where Lila got her expelled, Marinette tried going to her friends again. She had spoken with her friend, Damian about what was going on. He was furious that this lying harlot had caused so much trouble for his friend. After talking with Damian, she thought this time, they would believe her. Lila had admitted that she had a ‘lying disease’ to get Marinette back in school. So, the two friends had thought that would be enough to get her class to listen to her. But they had been wrong.

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

Marinette got to class early that day. She knew Lila wouldn’t be coming until after lunch because of a photo shoot. She thought it was the perfect time to make her case to the class without Lila there to try and trick them again. After she explained that Lila was lying, and even offered the proof that Alya had asked for last time, she waited for the class to respond. But it wasn’t the response she thought she would get.

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

The class got angry at her for going after Lila again. “How could you Marinette. She can’t control the lying and you try to turn us against her because of her condition? That is so cruel!” Alya yelled at Marinette. Marinette was shocked. Didn’t they understand that Lila had tried to get her expelled? Why won’t they listen to her? “How could you guys still defend her? She got me expelled!” Alix yells back, “Yeah, but she came clean and got you back in school. Can’t you just forgive her and move on?” “Yeah Marinette! I can’t believe you would make us pick between you and Lila.” Marinette was stunned. “I’m not making you pick anything. I just want you to hear me out! Please!” Alya rolls her eyes. “Yes, you are making us pick. You don’t want us to be friends with her anymore, so we have to choose between you two.” Marinette was fed up by this point. “Fine, if you are so determined to make this about picking sides, then who do you pick?” The class looks at each other and unanimously say, “Lila.”

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

Marinette was genuinely shocked. “What? I’ve been your friend all year Alya! And the rest of you? We’ve been friends since we were kids! And you would just toss me to the side for a liar!?” Alix stands up from her seat. “We may have been friends as kids, but you are like a different person now. You are so mean to someone as sweet as Lila. Of course, we would pick Lila over you in this situation!” Marinette lost her cool at this point and started yelling. “What situation?! I’m not asking you to pick between us! You are the ones forcing this situation. I just want you guys to realize you’re being lied to! Even if she wasn’t lying about me, I would still be worried. She has been promising all these great things to help you with your careers and she won’t be able to deliver! I’m worried about all of you!”

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

The situation quickly devolved from there. The class just kept yelling at Marinette and Marinette yelled back. The situation ended with the class truly choosing between Marinette and Lila and they picked Lila. Not just to be their friend, but they also decided to pick Lila as their new class rep. They were determined to prove to Marinette that she was wrong about Lila and they thought this was the best way. They thought if she saw how awesome Lila was as a friend and class rep then Marinette would apologize and make amends. And Marinette would see that Lila hadn’t lied about helping them. The class was sure that Lila wasn’t lying when she said she could help them with their careers. Now all the class had to do was sit back and wait for the results.

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But that didn’t happen. Marinette didn’t apologize. Instead, she got new friends from other classes and moved on. Marinette even transferred from Mrs. Bustier’s class to Mrs. Mendeleiev’s. The class thought Marinette was being over dramatic and was glad that with Marinette gone, the drama left the class as well. The class was fine with it, sure they missed Marinette, but they only missed the Marinette they used to know. Before Lila showed up. Marinette became close with her new class, happy not to have everyone depending on her. She also became closer with Damian and his family. She went to visit Gotham several times, and was even asked by the Waynes to make them new suits for their gala. Doing that helped to push Marinette’s fashion career into overdrive, and she quickly became a popular designer. Marinette and Damian even started dating after a while and became an iconic couple in Gotham. Marinette was happier than she had been in a long time.

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While things were going great for Marinette, things got worse for the class. Lila had promised all these great things when she became class rep. But nothing had come of it. All of the field trips and fundraisers had failed. All of the guest speakers Lila talked about never appeared. But the class was willing to forgive her for that. They knew that she was busy with all of her charity work. Alya tried to make up for it, but she didn’t have enough experience to make things quite as successful as when Marinette was class rep. But the class assumed that Lila would still help them with their careers.

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But that also never happened. The class graduated, but they never got any details from Lila about the help she had promised. Finally, they cornered her after graduation demanding answers. That is when she revealed everything. How she had tricked them into helping her with all her course work. The class was horrified. Once Lila left to continue her modeling career, the class just stood in shock. They went to Marinette as soon as they could. When they arrived at the bakery, they saw Marinette packing up a car with all of her stuff, with a boy about their age with black hair and green eyes helping her. The class rushed over and apologized and asked her for her help. Their whole lives were a mess now because of Lila’s lies. They needed Marinette’s help to get things back on track. They expected Marinette to drop everything to help them. She always did. But that didn’t happen. She just looked at them with a blank face. “I’m sorry guys, but you chose this. I tried to warn you, but you picked Lila. I’ve got to go guys, we are heading back to Gotham today and we have a plan to catch. Good luck with everything.” Marinette turned and got in the car, leaving the class on the curb and going to her amazing life in Gotham.

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The class tried to get their lives fixed without Marinette, but they didn’t get as far as they would have like. They all knew why this happened, they didn’t listen to Marinette. Why did they pick Lila over Marinette? How could they not see through Lila’s lies? Now their lives are all messed up and they lost the best friend they ever had. Meanwhile, they watched as Marinette and her fashion brand thrived. They watched as the Wayne family announced that Marinette and Damian were engaged. And they watched as Marinette and Damian started a family. They were happy for their old, lost friend. But they wished they were able to stand by her side still and be happy with her. They will always regret how things ended with Marinette, but they will work and hopefully someday earn her friendship back.

Hope you liked it! Let me know what you think! @maribat-central-official

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lovee-infected · 3 years

Note

hi hi!!! i love your vil analysis post!! just wondering though...why does vil force epel to do traditionally “cute, feminine” things. i get that it’s, like, to counter neige for the vdc, but it kind of goes against vil’s ideology? like, how i see it, vil advocates for people to express themselves how they want without being bound by gender roles. i feel like if epel tried forcing his manliness ideology onto other people, he’d be justified in his “forcing epel to do cute things” plan, but i don’t think epel has ever shamed feminine guys? he just wants to be manly himself. could this be an allusion to how the evil queen turned ugly just to fulfill her goals? vil going against his core ideals and becoming “ugly” just to win?

Glad you enjoyed it dear! As for your question, I believe that'll be better if I go into details because I've seen many asking similar questions regarding chapter 5, and I guess that's causing some misunderstandings towards both Vil and Epel. Well, we're soon getting the rest of the Pomefiore Chapter, so I guess it's the best time for an analysis on Epel and Vil's relationship and how Chapter 5 has been going so far

First off, let me state something really really important about the Pomefiore chapter, this arc has got pretty wild spirits that are quite new compared to the previous chapters. We've got Neige, the first RSA character to appear as a real rival of a NRC student, Vil and Epel's rough relationship, Ace and Deuce joining MC on the new adventure once again and finally, the VDC: an event with is potentially important to not only the whole NRC but also Twisted Wonderland!

While all fans are surely excited to see what we'll be going through next, there are quite a few of misunderstandings and wrong interpretations that are considerably important regarding the Pomefiore chapter. In order to avoid possible dramas and more misinterpretions between the fans, let's try to take a better look at this Chapter and important Pomefiore hints that we've got so far:

(1)Epel's feelings; the most important element of chapter 5

One of the quite brilliant facts about Chapter 5, is the unique presence of characters and their roles in the story. This might seem quite unrecognizable, but right now Epel's appearance is effecting the audience way more than Vil's! This arc is mainly focusing on making the audience feel his pain and hard time, and I can say that they're doing it pretty well! We'll talk about how his feelings are being presented in part (6). Now, you may wonder why his feelings are so important in the Pomefiore arc? Isn't it supposed to be mostly about Vil? Well of course, the story is most likely leading us to Vil's overblot so he's the heart of this chapter, but the important thing is too see how crucial Epel's role is here. Watching how Epel is in pain, silenty crying and forced into doing something that he doesn't want to by Vil is savagely effecting this fandom's interpretation of Vil, some are commenting on how he's the worst or how horrible he is or hundreds of not really friendly critiques which is awfully frustrating... We'd continue to talk about this point in part (5)!

(2) Epel's relationship with Vil

Let's review what we've got through the side stories. To begin with, Epel obviously doesn't really like Vil, (I'm trying to cooperate and not say that he hates him) he didn't appreciate having him as the dorm leader from the very beginning. But he's got some strong reasons to dislike Vil so we can't really blame him:

1)Vil slapped him all of a sudden just because of his poor posture at the dinner table 2)Vil almost crashed Epels head between his hands while teaching him some manners 3)Vil's idealistic are just the opposite of Epel's 4)Vil is trying to change Epel, especially during chaptet 5. It sometimes feels like Vil is treating Epel like his puppet and Epel doesn't appreciate this all.

At the end of his SR lab story Epel stated how he's going to study his hardest in magic and potions, so maybe at some point he'd beat Vil, which goes to prove that he considers Vil a rival.

"Why is it so though? Isn't this pretty risky for Epel to challenge Vil, especially as Vil is a dorm leader and Epel's just a first year who's still an amateur at magic?"

Farewell, let me mention something about Epel, he's got a really strong will to the point of not giving up until proving everyone wrong. He's often looked down on, is called to be useless and dumb, and is sometimes insulted for being innocent and naïve. True, he still has a lot he needs to learn and he's aware, but he won't take being underestimated easily.

Just look at him! He's been raised in a farm and he still found his way to this school filled with stunning students coming from noble families while Epel is a simple country boy! He proved the point to us once again in his lab coat story where Crewel gave him an impossible task just to push him into giving up and coming to apologize afterwards. When Epel realized that he was just tricked by Crewel, he felt quite frustrated and started to cry, yet he didn't give up and used his personal experiments and what he'd learned back in his farm life and paved his road to success and impressing everyone including Crewel!

This is why he isn't backing up now, he doesn't want and isn't going to lose to Vil. Another important reason might be how Vil seems to have control over Epel, his manners, his attitude, the way he looks and basically, the person Epel is. Epel has indirectly said that Vil may be currently bounding his actions and life, but someday this will change. He mentioned similar lines several times and you can see he really has a strong will to prove everyone, especially Vil, that he's not a cute apple boy to sit still and look pretty. And if he's been waiting for the right time to stand against Vil, chapter 5 has got it. In part (7) you'll see why.

(3)What is happening in chapter 5?

Okay before we continue, let's just focus on what we've got in Pomefiore chapter: This year's vocal and dance championship has an unbelievable amount of media focused on it , because two of the world-famous influencers,Vil Schoenheit & Neige Leblanche, are joining. Both are great influencers and talented designers, but recently Neige has been getting really popular through the social media and TV, thus Vil realizes that the time to face his well-known rival, Neige, has come.

The VDC is no joke to him because hundreds of people are coming to watch this competition between two Celebrities, and his career is surely at risk. If the VDC doesn't go as well as he's planned, that'll be an end to his fame and clout, possibly his whole career! Therefore he has to make sure that nothing is going to ruin his plans for the big day, and that's why he is going to use his ultimate weapon, the red poisoned apple. Note that this isn't just about Vil, it's about protecting NRC's clout against RSA as well, so losing the VDC would seriously effect NRC's picture throughout the whole twisted wonderland. So a really important part of NRC's future is relying on Vil's hands right now.

Look, unlike the previous chapters, Vil's story is about nothing fictional or exaggerated; it's something that's pretty normal to see in real life! Two famous fashion designers joining a competition, both are giving in their best, aren't planning to lose, are going to be awfully strict towards training their models and making sure that nothing would be messed up, and are SERIOUS about winning because losing it to the other side would end in losing their clout and having the reports of their unfortunate fall-down spread worldwide.

Unlike the previous overblots, Vil's strictness and seriousness has NOTHING to do with being evil or crazy, he's just doing what he's supposed to be doing, working his hardest to defend his career. Anyone else who were in Vil's shoes would've done the same, and nothing about it chaotic, heartless or mad. His being pretty strict towards Epel because he's his main hope, Epel is the perfect beauty material and is definitely capable of achieving all the best through the VDC, that's why Vil's counting on him. Just as a fashion designer is strict with training their model, Vil is all serious with his way of couching Epel. And it's just about being professional, not being evil!

(4) It's not about Vil, it's about Epel

This is more of a continuation to part (3), but let's talk seriously about how wrong chapter 5 is being interpreted. "Vil is the worst! Can't he see that Epel doesn't want this?" or "Ew gross! People like Vil who use others for their very own benefits are just horrible" are some of the aggressive comments I've recently heard about how Vil is doing in Chapter 5, which is mainly because of Epel. I mentioned that Epel's feelings are most important element of chapter 5 and this is why!! Vil isn't doing anything that savage or mean but his actions seem to be a lot more appealing to fans due to how Epel's frustration and pain is being focused on. It's not because of Vil, it's because of Epel. Vil had been just the same with Leona back in the fairy gala event and most of the fans considered the story to be much of a comedy, but when Vil's treating Epel just the same way it sounds mean, cruel, harsh and heartless. See what I meant? Epel's presence was crucial to give Vil an evil perspective and make him seem just as bad as Azul or Leona.

I'm not defending his action since Epel as well is surely under a serious pressure. He doesn't even want to be joining the VDC, let alone having to follow all these strict rules that Vil's been teaching him so far. But since Epel forcedly made the deal with Vil and promised to help him for the VDC, there's no turning back now. Vil is counting on him as his very last hope and is putting his hardest of work and effort into training Epel, just like any professional fashion designer would've done.

(5)Vil is NOT the Evil Queen!

As for Vil's biggest difference with the Evil Queen, I must say that Vil does really work his hardest for what he desires. Evil Queen simply wanted Snow White dead while we've got Vil, working his ass off preparing everything for the VDC. He isn't just going to get mad and envies of Neige because his becoming popular, he doesn't want Neige dead either. All Vil has been doing so far was working and working and working and getting to be called cruel and heartless in return, I mean can't you just feel the amount of effort and nerve he's giving into work?

See, a considerable majority of the fandom is exaggerating the story of chapter 5 while Vil hasn't even shown a simple sign of having any ill intentions or evil plans in mind! We don't know what is going to happen i the next episodes but let's say that he hasn't done a single evil thing so far.

Just take a look at previous chapters! Leona was openly planning to unfairly harm and injure other students and Azul fooled nearly 200 students, took away their magic and forced them to work for him in Mostrolounge until they graduate from the very beginning. Heartslabyul and Scarabia weren't as severe as these two but they still did have some sort of a visibly unhealthy aura. Vil's current impression as the villain of chapter 5 is high-kay normal and chill compared to the previous chapters as he literally has done nothing evil so far, NOTHING. Most of the fandom is currently giving him the malicious aura that he doesn't have, or at least he doesn't yet have. Look, Vil's just doing his job. This doesn't even have anything to do with the Evil Queen! Also, Vil's rival ship with Neige has nothing to do with beauty, it's about fame, net-worth and popularity.

We don't know if he'd come up with any ill plans or serious intentions to harm Neige or anyone else in the new episodes, but his current impression in nothing more than going hard on Epel as his coach which is just being overly exaggerated by the fandom. A real life fashion designer would've done JUST the same thing! I know that this story is most likely going to end in Vil's overblot and him revealing his inner villain but come on, he hasn't done anything horrible so far!

(6)How Epel is being presented through Chapter 5

This point is the cause of many misunderstandings and confusions regarding Chapter 5, many find the context of Epel being forced to do what he doesn't like so cruel, some on the other hand are confused becaused Vil has clearly stated that his terms of beauty are gender neutral, so why would he force Epel to do these in the first place? As I said before, it's because of Epel, not Vil.

When it comes to perspectives on beauty, Epel's idealistics are just the opposite of Vil's. Look, Epel hates being mistaken with a girl or being considered soft and cute, this is something that has been bothering him for quite a long time. Being misgendered because of his appearance all over his life has had some negative effects on his perspective toward anything cute or feminine, as it just reminds him as how he often gets misunderstood because of his unwanted appearance and cuteness. Epel is awfully similar to Deuce and wants nothing more than getting to reveal the manliness he's holding within, through not only tastes but also abilities.

This is why he's been feeling quite uncomfortable in chapter 5 because Vil's basically pushing him into doing what he hates the most, looking cute and, well, something that Epel would consider feminine. The thing is, Vil does not consider stuff like 'Being able to sing beautifully, performing eye-catching movements voice, wearing stunning clothes and applying makeup' feminine at all, to Vil these are gender neutral terms of beauty and he doesn't get why Epel might consider them girlish or feminine either. Epel's comment on not wanting to do girlish things sounded naïve and low key rude to Vil because beauty isn't bound to being male or female, and he doesn't appreciate the idea of these works being called girlish at all.

This is neither Epel nor Vil's fault, it's just the difference in idealistics.

(7) Vil's on thin ice right now

Let me tell you a secret, 'choosing Epel to become the red poisoned apple wasn't an accidental act AT ALL'. Vil has been watching over Epel ever since he entered NRC and this is why he was so strict about changing this "Mudded potato" into a well-behaved Pomefiore student. Vil knew Epel's name and had discussed his case with Rook right at Epel's first day, and this is why he treated Epel so harshly at the dinner table because his plan to turn Epel into his red poisoned apple had already begun. He was preparing Epel from the very beginning and was just expecting the big day to arrive, the day he'd need Epel to defeat his rival, Neige.

Remember that I said how Epel's been waiting for a chance to stand against Vil and how Chapter 5 would be his BEST opportunity to do this? Before we explain this point, let's have a review on how Vil has been effecting and changing him so far. During his first days in NRC, Epel was more comfortable with shouting, fighting and opposing to other students including Vil. He used to disagree until Vil slapped him but now in Chapter 5, he doesn't even say a word when Vil tells him to do something, he just silently obeys as tears fall from his eyes. He no longer fights back as much as he used to.

But right now, Vil's career, status and future is bound to Epel. Vil has been working harder than ever trying to turn him into the Red poisoned Apple he's been expecting him to become, and if Epel backs up or decides to ruin the show and stop letting Vil have control over him, that'll seriously make Vil explode. And if you think that Vil deserves to be hurt like this, I gotta say that he doesn't, he seriously doesn't deserve this after all he's been going through. Just imagine being on Gil's shoes, how would you feel about having the result of all that hard work and effort you've given into work for YEARS ruined like this? Look, we need to judge this situation nonetheless, even is you don't really like Vil it's important to realize the unfairness of this possible future to the story.

Epel now has the opportunity to BREAK Vil like no one has ever done, after all Vil has been going through to coach Epel, teach him manners, change his nature and prepare him for the VDC this would certainly be the worst thing that may happen to him and it'll make him mad, like really really mad. The Vil we've seen through the story so far was nothing more than Vil's normal calm self so we can't even imagine how it might be to see him mad. At this point he won't be bound to any manners or consderations, and keep this in mind: "We won't like it when Vil is evil, and we can't imagine how evil he can be,"

I'm honestly so excited and terrified at the same time to see what we'll get to see in the rest of the Pomefiore chapter, the atmosphere is so nerve-wrecking right now and I can't help but to pray that the rest of this story doesn't traumatize us as much as it can- “Yana please, have mercy on us”

#Twst #twisted wonderland #Twst x reader #twisted Wonderland x reader #vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #rook hunt #Pomefiore #character analysis

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broadstflyers · 3 years

Text

A/N: I am so excited to be starting my first ever series. This is inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Cardigan” because her music creates stories in my head that I must write down on (digital) paper. Please keep in mind this chapter is written in past tense, and the story probably won't be in present tense for at least another few chapters. Let me know what you think! If you want to be on the tag list for the next chapter, or drop any (constructive) feedback, you can take this survey here.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter two

Grade: 9 Age: 14 --------------------------------- As sure as you are that spring comes after winter, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and seconds turn into minutes, you know you are in love with Joel Farabee. Not the gushy “I want to hug you and kiss you and never let you go” love, the intense “I want to burst at the seams because I just want to scream it on the rooftops and tell you and it literally crushes my heart that I can’t” love.

Yeah, that love.

The problem?

You were only fourteen when you knew.

Yes, the grand old age of fourteen. The age you were supposed to be nervously texting multiple boys, wondering if you were going to be asked to the ninth grade dance and worrying about who your first kiss was going to be, or even the first person you were going to hold hands with.

It started on the first day of school, but the start of it all was less than romantic. You shuffled up the hallway with one of your best friends, your feet felt like lead.

“What’s wrong?” Luna whispered in your ear.

“I really hate math,” you huffed. It was the last period of the day, eighth period, and you had to spend it in what was probably going to be a room full of rambunctious athletes who would be itching to burst out of the room at the very sound of the bell. How did you know this? Because you had been stuck in a class like that ever since the beginning of middle school. It made for some laughs, yes, but for some reason a pessimistic attitude bitterly swarmed around you in dark circles. Also, math in general made you anxious, and it didn’t help that the last few years you had to fend for yourself because of your lack of friends in said class.

“Well, at least you’ll have me this year,” Luna attempted to reassure you and your looming anxiety.

“Yeah, but I wonder who’s going to be in our class this year,” you mumbled. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies, but you’d rather call them icky moths.

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but you reached the door frame before her. Before you could even make it through the entrance, you made eye contact with a group of rowdy boys sitting at a table directly in front of you. You stopped dead in your tracks. They paused in their shouting to turn and look at you and Luna, since you were only about seven or eight feet away.

You scanned their faces, and you recognized most of them. They were mostly hockey players that played for the local team that looked for a shot at the NTDP in just a few short years. It was Syracuse, hockey was a pretty big deal there. There was also the prospective varsity quarterback and his star wide-receiver, these labels given to them at just fourteen. Of course, more athletes. Suddenly, you locked eyes with this boy you strangely have never seen before. His hand was hovering in air over his friend’s head with what you could only assume is his friend’s pencil in a lame attempt to keep him from grabbing it.

He blinked a few times, and you might have blinked a few times, you honestly couldn’t remember.

You snapped out of your trance and looked over to the board that said, “Welcome class! Pick your seats for the first day!”

“Hey,” Luna nudged you and grabbed your arm, “let’s sit over there.”

She lead you to a table adjacent to the boys’ table, despite your unheard protests of being “too close” to them.

You took your seat huffing, and you pulled out your binder and got ready for class, something you wished the crazy boys would pick up on. Thankfully the bell rang, your teacher shut the door, and class began.

That’s the first time you saw him. Not very eventful, but hey, you two were awkward fourteen year olds just entering grade nine. Of course things were not going to be all fireworks and love at first sight.

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

A few classes went by, and the only disturbance that occurred was when the class was taking one of those horrible diagnostic tests. See, you really hated disturbances, interruptions, anything relating to that matter.

So when this dude named Joel (you learned his name when he was yelled at for playing rap music in the middle of class) started fooling around with his friend while you were trying to figure out why letters were in math now, you weren’t happy, to say the least.

And when he locked eyes with you and made a silly face, yours did not move in a rather unamused manner. You simply blinked and looked back down at your test.

You missed his face slightly fall, but it was short lived when the teacher yelled his name from across the room and made everyone jump ten feet. He was quiet after that.

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

It was a random Tuesday in late October.

You and Luna were chatting about your previous classes, until you both stopped in your tracks and you raised an eyebrow. Everyone in your class was standing up and congregating away from tables. You could hear the ominous music creeping over everyone’s heads.

“Oh no,” you whined to Luna.

She winced. “We’re being assigned seats, aren’t we?”

You nodded. You both stood in the sea of kids and awaited your fate.

“Alright, everyone,” your teacher said. “You guys have been extremely chatty lately.” She paused to side-eye Joel and his friends.

He opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly shut it when she frowned.

“So you leave me no choice, but I must assign seats,” she dramatically said as she unveiled the new seating chart on the board.

Everyone pushed and shoved to the front to see where their name lied in the cards of fate. You heard some soft celebrations and loud protests.

You nudged your way in and scanned up and down the board. Luna wasn’t at the same table, but she was sitting facing towards you at another table. Hopefully you and her would be able to make eye contact. You scanned until you see your name fall right next to someone who you would rather forget you treated so poorly. It was there in bright, bold red.

Joel Farabee.

“Aw man,” you and a voice said in unison. You looked up at your side to see that it’s him. Oh dear brother. Did you both just admit out loud that you don’t want to sit next to each other? You and him rolled your eyes at each other, huffing that you’ll be forced to be in each other’s presence.

And you knew he was thinking some sort of variation of what you were: how dare your teacher.

You trudged over to your seat and plopped down. He threw down his stuff and sat next to you. You could sense his extreme dislike for your rather serious demeanor. Hey, you could crack a smile.

Just not around him. And for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. It’s almost like if you did, you knew you would never stop...

You both avoided eye contact, you played with your pencil as he yelled to one of his friends across the classroom about some stupid video game.

And that’s just how it was for weeks. You’d both come in, sit down, he’d scream to his friends, you’d fight shooting him a really dirty look.

Until one day, you accidentally did. Now, later when you told Luna, you swore up and down you didn’t mean to, and it was just the fact that seventh period gym was terrible (but when was it not). Okay, so maybe you were fed up with him yelling about whatever rap song came out, or whatever Instagram model popped up on his feed (that made you shutter).

But what you did wasn’t really admittedly the nicest.

“Joel, do you always have to yell so freaking loudly?” you snapped.

He feigned a stunned expression, or maybe he really meant it, who knows what goes on in that boy’s seemingly empty head.

“Do you have to be such a downer…like all the time? Kinda ruins the vibe bro.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks Joel, because the number one thing I care about is ruining your ‘vibe’,” you put that word in air quotes, “and not getting any work done in this class, bro.”

Now he rolled his eyes. “Look, you could benefit from loosening up a little, you know? You’re kind of just, not a fun person.”

A look of real hurt flashed across your face. One that he caught. “No,” you punctually state. Then you turn your seat so you completely have your back to him and you’re facing the board.

Meanwhile Luna and your table-mates watched the whole situation unfold. Okay, and maybe most of the class.

And when the bell rang and he called your name, you simply decided you didn’t hear it.

“He’s calling you,” Luna prodded.

You just shook your head as you continued down the hallway to the bus. On the bus, you had some thinking to do.

Did he really think of you as...boring? You usually didn’t let the immature words of boys get to you, but this, this really hurt.

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

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Luna insisted that evening while lying on your bedroom floor that same Friday evening.

“Yes he did, and he’s kind of right,” you begrudgingly conceded. “I haven’t been the nicest to him,” you sigh into your hands, “and maybe I should be.”

“Well, what’s stopping you?” Luna curiously asked.

“I, I don’t know.”

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

The following Monday, you winced and leaned into Luna as you approached the classroom. To say you were terrified is an understatement.

But you took a deep breath, held your head high, and locked your face into a neutral expression. You never let anyone get the best of you, and you weren’t going to let Joel out of all people be one of the first.

Luna offered a small sympathetic smile as she made her way to her seat.

Your heart beated out of your chest anticipating his arrival. Sure enough, you caught him out of the corner of your eye. He took his time and strutted around the room to talk to all the friends he had. He was obviously looking to avoid you, too.

Coward.

Eventually, he made his way to his seat. He cleared his throat, but you didn’t budge. Ever heard of being saved by the bell?

“I’m going to hand back everyone’s quizzes from last class,” your teacher announced. You audibly groaned. That quiz did not go well. Who puts diamonds and boxes and something called factoring in math?

Sure enough, she shoved a C- into your sweaty hands.

“Dang,” you whispered.

You glanced over at Joel’s paper. 100%.

Are you kidding me?

His prying eyes had the audacity to spot your C-, as if you didn’t pry on his paper seconds before.

“That’s rough,” he said, trying to make eye contact with you.

“I- um, yeah, it is,” you choked out with your eyes still glued on your paper.

His heart broke when he heard your wavering voice. He had to do something.

“Can I see it?” He quietly asked, when quiet usually isn’t typically his demeanor.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Uh, sure?”

He took the paper and started drawing stars around the C- mark, very messily, may you add.

You went to take the paper back, but he moved it away from your grasp.

“One second,” he pleaded. He stuck his tongue out in concentration.

You tried to see how badly he was defacing your quiz, but the position of his arm prohibited you from peering over to see.

“Done,” he proudly said as he slid the paper back over to you.

Instead of a plain old C-, there was now...a C- with stars around it.

“Joel, this is very lovely and all, but why the stars around the C-?”

He smiled with his sickeningly sweet toothless grin, and your heart absolutely backflipped into oblivion.

“That’s not a C-,” he goofily joked, “that’s the moon, y/n,” he said through a smile. “See it?”

You looked up from your paper and looked at him in the eye. Your hands shook from adrenaline, your heart was fluttering, goodness, you didn’t know how you could feel any lighter.

That smile was going to be the death of you.

“Yeah, Joel,” you cracked a smile, “I do see it. Thank you,” you sincerely said.

Crack a smile.

You cracked a smile.

His heart skipped a beat. He knew instantly he was going to do whatever it took to keep that smile on your face for as long as possible. He didn’t care what he would have to do.

He smiled once more, and he turned to his buddies to shield his face from you. He didn’t want you to see how red it was turning. He proceeded to explain to them how perfect his stars were and how no one could top them. Something along the lines of “Bro, you have to see this one, it’s so perfect bro…” He also told them how he made you feel better while slapping his chest, for some reason, as in yeah, I made the mopiest girl in school smile. He sounded like he was priding himself on it.

His smile, the way he talked about you, those freaking stars. You’d let him draw those all over your arm instead any day.

At that age, you may not have known why there were letters in algebra, but you knew that the way he made you feel wasn't the same as you did with your two other crushes back in middle school. This just felt...absolutely weird.

But absolutely right.

And that’s the story of how at just fourteen years old, you knew you were absolutely screwed.

#joel farabee #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee x reader

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