#adding that after posting because some people left really nice comments and I don’t want to lose them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snackhobi · 3 years

Text

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested. It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.)

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.)

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist.

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.)

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back.

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power.

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it.

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

“Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall.

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered.

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond.

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it.

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron.

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi.

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner. There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway.

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out.

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot.

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire.

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway.

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary.

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting.

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you.

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else.

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright.

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you.

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.)

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung.

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth.

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to.

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up.

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say.

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really.

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists.

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.”

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor.

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn.

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed.

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad.

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee.

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is.

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

“Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say.

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all.

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice.

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity.

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think.

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand.

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?”

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say.

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #houseofddaeng #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts #yoongi au #bts au #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #PLEASE feel free to message me with any typos or whatever and I'll get on those when I have a chance

3K notes · View notes

noctumbra · 3 years

Text

𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

summary ─ walking away from you had never felt this painful before, bucky realized.

pairing ─ fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ angst, angst, more angst, crying, conversations, confessions, goodbye scene without the sex in it, happens a couple months after the graduation

a/n ─ so. technically this is the last part, but there will be an epilogue (i’m not sure about this. i might write and post one). until i post an epilogue, accept this as the final part. i'm hoping to write that very soon. after that, we will be done with this series. i hope you like it! @babyboibucky you asked for "more angst" and you're receiving with this part. blame her :d please leave a comment if you like it! thank youuu <333

series masterlist

Ever since the graduation, life was being really hard on Bucky.

He had been looking for a job and a place for himself for the last five months because he needed money and just couldn’t live with his parents: The house was too crowded, and they were too curious. It hadn’t been easy so far; Bucky had to dodge his mother’s ‘why are you still single’ questions all the while running from one job interview to another as well as meeting with a real estate agent for affordable apartments. He knew he couldn’t rent one until he got a job, but he wanted to cross it off his list.

Sighing, Bucky plopped on one of the first empty benches he saw.

The weather was hot as hell, and he was sweating like a pig in his suit. He could feel the shirt sticking to his back slowly. He was thirsty and hungry and tired; all he wanted to do was to go home, take a cold shower, eat something and sleep, but he couldn’t. He still had two interviews to get over.

“Fuck my life,” he whispered under his breath. Digging through the small bag he carried with him everywhere, he pulled out a bottle of water. It was half-empty, but it was better than nothing. He quickly drained it, wiped the slight sweat beading on his forehead and stood. If he stalled a bit longer, he was going to be late for his interview.

Just as he started walking, he felt his phone vibrate. Pulling it out, Bucky saw two messages from the interviewers. They were cancelled due to scheduling problems.

“Shit,” he hissed. He was both happy and sad; happy because he was going home instead of dragging himself all around New York, and sad because he was more likely to never hear for them again since those kinds of messages usually meant ‘we found someone already’. Cursing under his breath again, he changed his route. He had some money left, so he decided to get a sandwich from Subway. He really didn’t want to pass out on his way home, he couldn’t deal with that.

He was halfway to the nearest Subway when his phone vibrated again. It was a text from Sam.

we’re at lolly’s, it said. join us. been a while since i saw your ugly face. Bucky snorted as he shook his head. Lolly’s wasn’t so far away from where he was, probably as close as the Subway. He sent Sam a ‘on my way’ text and started walking.

Sam was right. It had been a while since he saw them. He was too busy chasing down job interviews that he couldn’t spare some time to his friends and night outs as much as he would like to. They were probably in the same rush since they didn’t reach out to him, and that was okay. Life was hard and messy and could get super busy super quick.

He sprinted as soon as he saw the diner. Using his long legs to run across the street, he walked inside panting lightly.

The place was buzzing. It wasn’t overly crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. There were families and students and friend groups all talking and eating at the same time. Laughter and chatting sounds were filling the small diner, and it was making the place look and sound all cozy.

His eyes danced on the people sitting in the booths until he found them. They were in their usual booth. Grinning, he made his way towards them.

“Oh, look it’s Barnes!” Sam grinned at Bucky. “Nice to see that you’re as ugly as before.” Bucky chuckled and hugged him.

“Shut up, Wilson, we both know you have a crush on me,” he said, making everyone on the table laugh. Bucky quickly hugged and greeted his other friends before he took a seat. “What are we having?” He asked, he was starving and was pretty sure that if he went without food a little bit longer, his stomach was going to go apeshit on him.

“We ordered greasy burgers as always,” Steve said, grinning. “Loki hates it.” Bucky saw Loki rolling his eyes, but he knew Loki was having fun. He smiled. “We ordered for you, too. It should be here any minute now.”

“Y’all are saints,” Bucky breathed in relief. The refusals and complaints immediately filled the small table, and Bucky laughed. He really missed his friends.

─

It was hours later when they left the diner with full bellies and laughter ringing in their ears. They ate and drunk and talked about what they have been doing since the graduation, how the life was treating them and all that jazz.

Bucky felt good when he heard that his friends, too, were going through the same things as he was. It felt nice to know that he wasn’t alone.

“I’m getting married,” Sam said as they stepped on the half-full sidewalk. All of them stopped suddenly, looking at each other with surprised etched on their faces.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Bucky asked. “You’re─ Really?” Sam nodded, grinning widely. “Holy shit, man, I didn’t even know you were datin’ with someone.” The others chuckled.

“I didn’t either,” Loki said. Bucky heard Steve agreeing with him.

“Well, we kept it pretty low-key,” Sam explained. “We’ve been dating for three years? Almost?” He shrugged. “It got serious in the last year. I proposed to her already and we’re gonna tell our parents as soon as I hear back from one of the interviews I gave around.”

Bucky smiled. “Wow,” he said. “I’m proud of you man,” he added quickly because he was. He really was proud of Sam. “Congrats.” Bucky threw his arms around him and patted his back a couple times. Sam smiled and murmured his thanks. As he stepped back and let the others hug Sam, Bucky couldn’t help but imagine if this would happen to him if he were to treat you like you deserved.

Would you marry him? Would you mind keeping him forever? He wanted to know. He felt like he knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear it from you. He wanted to know if he ever stood a chance, if you’d ever accept him like that. He was too much of an asshole, he knew, thank you very much, but Bucky also knew that he’d get his shit together for you. Maybe he wouldn’t in the beginning of your… relationship, but he would now. It was too late, though.

“We planned a summer wedding, but it really depends on the time that I’ll be hearing back from anyone,” Sam sighed. “’s gonna be alright,” he said. “We both know that.” Bucky smiled sadly. He wished he could say that, too.

“I’m happy for you, Wilson,” he said instead. Sam sent him a soft smile. Placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder, Bucky pulled him against his side. “Let’s go home.” The others all agreed, and they started walk down the sidewalk.

They were crossing the street when Bucky saw you.

You were across the street where he was going with your own friend group. You were laughing and looked so beautiful in that white dress, Bucky wanted to sob. He missed your face, missed seeing you laugh, he realized, and his heart gave a painful thud in its cage.

Clearing his throat, he crossed the street when the light turned green for them. His eyes never left you; they watched how you joked and laughed and grabbed your friend’s arm while you giggled… Bucky missed you so fucking much.

“Barnes?” Sam nudged him when they stepped off the road. “You alright?” Bucky nodded absently.

“Yeah,” he murmured. The need to be near you, the want to talk to you was about to consume Bucky, and he was aware that he was going to make an ass of himself, but he didn’t care. “Hey, why don’t guys go ahead? I’ll catch up.” Sam frowned. “It’s fine. I saw someone and wanted to tell them something, that’s it.” It wasn’t so convincing, Bucky knew, but thankfully, Sam didn’t say anything. He just nodded and walked the opposite way.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky marched on where you were standing with your friends. He wasn’t about to jump into the conversation, that would be rude. He was going to see if he would be able to catch your attention. As he stepped into your sight, he waved his hand. You were too into the conversation, you didn’t see him at first, but then a movement caught your eyes. Lifting your head, you saw Bucky and froze for a second.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Can you give me a minute?” You said to your friends, and they nodded, going back to their conversation right away. You went up to him.

“Hi,” he said, a little breathless because you looked so beautiful. You smiled softly.

“Hi,” you breathed. “What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but ask. He shrugged. Grabbing his bag tighter, he licked his lips.

“Was hanging out with the boys,” he said. You nodded slowly. “Then, I saw you and thought I could, y’know,” Bucky shrugged awkwardly. You nodded again. “You look beautiful,” he blurted.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks. “Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured. Bucky’s heart made a flip as the oxygen got trapped in his throat.

You could have been together, Bucky thought. You could have been dating still, and this encounter wouldn’t be so awkward. Bucky wouldn’t feel like there were miles between you two while you were one of those people who knew him really well.

“Bucky?” You reached out and touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

“You told me you loved me,” Bucky blurted out. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. He wanted it out, out, out. He needed to get rid of it. He needed to tell you.

“ What?” You frowned.

“The night you got drunk and called me,” he explained. “You told me that you loved me, but you didn’t want to love me because it hurts you.” Bucky swallowed harshly. “You said you didn’t want to see me anymore because I just make you want to cry.” Sighing, Bucky tried to hold his tears back. “You─ You said that I never saw you as─ as a relationship material because you knew you weren’t enough.”

“Bucky─” You gasped.

“Please,” he begged. “Let me finish it. I─” Bucky took a deep breath. “I want you to know that you were enough,” he said, finally lifting his head up and looking at your eyes. They were full of tears already. “You were enough for me. You were more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t enough and didn’t deserve you. It─ It hurt like hell when I heard you say that you don’t want to love me anymore because it hurts you. I wanted to hurt myself for you because you didn’t deserve to be hurt.” He sniffed, trying to hold back tears was getting harder.

“Y/N,” Bucky said. “I want you to know that I love you. For real. This is no joke, there is no play, nothing. I just want you know that I love you so much. I told my friends about how I feel about you, and they didn’t believe. I don’t mind them not believing me, but I need you to believe me.” You felt tears rolling down on your cheeks gently as Bucky’s blue eyes bored into yours. The way he was looking at you felt like he was looking directly into your soul. You sobbed lightly.

“I treated you like shit,” Bucky murmured. “I know that. I’m so sorry. I made you feel like you weren’t enough when you were more than enough, and I hurt you. Because of me, you didn’t want to love, doesn’t matter who. You didn’t want to love, Y/N, because I was such a dick to you. I’m so sorry. I know no matter how many times I apologize, it’s not gonna undo all the damage, but I’m sorry. I truly am.” Bucky sighed deeply. “I should have told you that I love you long before. I shouldn’t have been such a coward about how I feel about you, I’m sorry for not acting on them before─”

With a sniff, you hugged him out of a sudden. Bucky backed a step and caught you immediately. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he hesitated only for a second before he pulled you in for a tight hug. You sobbed, face hidden in his neck as you held onto him. You missed him. You missed his body heat against yours, hearing his voice, feeling his arms around you… You missed him so much.

“Bucky,” you whispered when you pulled back just a little. You kissed him. Both of you had tears on your faces, but neither of you cared about it. Your tears-covered lips found each other. It wasn’t a filthy, passionate kiss, but a sweet, desperate and chaste one. You parted for oxygen and then leaned in to kiss him again. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed and lips close to his. “Bucky,” you whispered again, your hands were on each side of his face. “You knew how we were going to end up,” you murmured. You opened your eyes to look at his baby blue ones. “This is where we end.”

This was the first time you were seeing him this vulnerable, you thought as you watched his chin wobbled and tears spilling over his cheeks. He sniffed. He was nodding slowly.

He understood. He really did. He wasn’t good enough for you, he knew that, and he’d hate it if you were to settle down with someone who never truly deserved you. He loved you. You were his very first love, and everything was intense and strange to him, but he would get over it. He knew he had to. He just wanted you to be okay, wanted you to not hurt anymore, wanted you to love someone who was going to make you want to love.

So, he understood.

Nodding still, Bucky wrapped you up into another hug. He memorized how your body felt against his while hugging like this, how you held him, how you rested your head on his shoulder… He memorized all of it. With a sniff, he stepped back. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed one last time. He breathed in your sweet scent, felt your soft lips against his and pulled back.

“This is where we end,” he whispered, repeating your words. You nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. He kissed your forehead before he stepped back fully. “Take care of yourself, please?” He pleaded. “I want you to be happy, to love, just… Be happy, alright?” You nodded once.

“I promise,” you whispered back. “Only if you be gentle with yourself.” Bucky cracked a half-smile and nodded.

“I promise.” You smiled at him. Your hand reached to his hair, and you fixed the rebel strands. Bucky took your hand, placed a soft kiss into your palm and dropped it. “Goodbye, Y/N. Thank you for loving me.”

You felt fresh tears licking your face, but you didn’t care. “Goodbye, Bucky. Thank you for loving me back.” Bucky pressed his lips together, looked at your for a second longer and turned around.

Walking away from you had never felt this painful before, Bucky realized. His feet were taking him away from you, but his heart was beating with you. It was screaming at him to go back and beg you to try once, but he wasn’t going to do that. You didn’t deserve that.

Bucky sighed. Nothing was going to make him feel as real as you did, he thought to himself. He was okay with it. He had to be okay with it.

So, Bucky walked away from you.

Once and for all.

─

After that, after you, Bucky never loved anyone ever. His heart belonged only to you.

#bucky barnes x reader #fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #fuckboy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #echoes of silence

945 notes · View notes

goddesswritings · 3 years

Text

“Can I slap her for you?” - Corpse Husband | Part Two

Title: “Can I slap her for you?” – Part Two

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader

Summary: Being stuck living with the queen of YouTube drama and partying during the pandemic has seriously worn down your patience. Meeting Pokimane has changed your life for the better, making Among Us a pivotal part of your life.

Word Count: 5.2k

Unedited for now. I was eager to post. I will edit it later.

Corpse Masterlist

********

<< PART ONE

After you left the apartment, you sat in the parking lot of some random store, trying to decide what to do now. Sighing, you opened your phone and went to Instagram. Corpse was probably wondering if it went okay.

Corpse: She left the stream, thank you!

Corpse: What exactly did you do?

Corpse: She’s sending Sean angry DM’s now.

Corpse: Hey, are you okay?

Y/n: Hey sorry, I had to pack. I’m fine, happy to help get her out of the stream. I switched off the power to her office.

Honestly, you wished you could have stood up against her more often than you did. She was four years younger, so you should have been able to have the say in things. But no, Olivia was a control freak and a spoiled brat too. She would no doubt tell your parents you started a fight with her, and she felt unsafe.

Corpse: Wow, you’re badass. Packing for what?

Y/n: Um, she may have kicked me out of the apartment, and I may have left without a fight because I’m tired of her shit. 🤷‍♀️

Corpse: Do you have a place to stay?

Of course you didn’t and you really should have thought about that before just leaving the way you did.

Y/n: Not really but I will find somewhere.

Well you hoped you could. There weren’t many people who were keen in taking in a friend during a pandemic.

Corpse: Poki’s going to call you.

At that message, your phone started to wring and sure enough, it was Poki.

“Hello?” You asked hesitantly.

“So someone let it slip that your sister kicked you out?” Poki said calmly.

“Is that someone, Corpse?”

“Yes, he said it out of shock but I’m glad he did. Knowing you, you would have kept it a secret from me.” She was right. You hated inconveniencing your friends.

“Damn you, Corpse.” You muttered making her laugh. “Yeah so I ruined Olivia’s stream and she started screaming at me before kicking me out. I didn’t fight it because I am tired of her.”

“Understandable. Well do you need somewhere to stay?”

“Yes but I will find some place.”

“Nope, you’re staying with me. Come over now or I am coming out to drag you back to my place.” Her protectiveness made you smile.

“Sure, I’ll be there in a few.” You hung up.

Y/n: Thank you for looking out for my stubborn ass, Corpse. I would have never told her.

Corpse: Stubborn is one word to describe you. Cute is another.

That comment made your face heat up from the sheer adorableness of it. Corpse seriously just called you cute.

Y/n: Can I say you have a genuinely nice hand. It’s marvelous.

Corpse: Hey, don’t make fun of my hand. It takes all the heat for me. That hand is very anxious every time I post him.

Y/n: Awe I bet. Give him hugs from me. Also tell him I’m a big fan!

The easy flow of conversation between the two of you was nice. You got along extremely well and talking outside of the game was nice, since you could focus on what you really wanted to say to him.

Corpse: He’s flattered!

This was great and took your mind off Olivia and the fact she just kicked you to the curb with nowhere to go. But Poki was there for you. You appreciated her more than she knew.

You pulled up in front of her apartment building, parking the car, you got out and grabbed your stuff. Typing in the code Poki had given you a while ago, you were let into the building. Entering the elevator, you made your way to her apartment.

Barely knocking, the door flew open to reveal Poki. She looked mad but also worried. She pulled you into the apartment and hugged you tightly.

“Can I slap her for you?” She asked calmly.

This made you giggle. “I mean I would like to slap her as well.”

“We should make a plan. Hey, the group is still on, come say hi.” She started to lead you to her office.

“Are they still streaming?” You didn’t want to reveal your face to the world, not like this.

“Oh no. We ended our streams when Olivia started talking about you. She completely wasn’t respecting your privacy and we weren’t about to let her spill it to our viewers.” That was so sweet of them to do.

You had left your bags in the other room while you followed her. An idle conversation was going on when you entered.

“Hey guys, I’m back.” Poki took a seat in front of the computer, she pulled up a second chair. “I have someone special here.”

Sitting down, you saw her nod for you to say something. “Hey, did you miss me?”

They went wild.

“Y/n! Oh we missed you!”

“Don’t leave us again.”

“I’m sorry I invited your sister to stream.”

“Hey Y/n.”

The mix of voices was overwhelming in a good way. Sykkuno, Rae, Sean, and Corpse pretty much spoke over each other which made you laugh.

“One at a time, guys. You can’t overload her.” Leslie told them.

“Sorry Y/n. We just really missed having you here. You’ve become one of our favorite friends to play with.” Sykkuno said sounding as sweet as ever. That man was just the best.

“Yes, I can say we agree.” Rae added.

It was nice to hear they missed you. It really helped to lift your mood as well.

“Did your sister really kick you out?” Toast asked

“Yes she did. But it’s not surprising at this point. She’s probably been gunning to kick me out as soon as she could.” Sad truth

“Well she’s the worst player ever. She can’t keep a secret at all. I really should have never agreed to get her into the group.” Sean said sounding sad.

“Hey Sean, please don’t worry about it. She’s always weaseling her way into things. It’s completely not your fault.” One of the things she loved to do was incessantly DM other youtubers for collabs or for free stuff. She really had no morals.

“Well thank you, Y/n. You’re literally the sweetest.” Sean said earning a bunch of ‘I Agrees’ from everyone else. That really was helping make the night better.

“Who’s up for some more Among Us to relax after that shitshow?” Lud asked making everyone laugh hard. It was agreed the group would do it. Luckily, you had your laptop and joined the call and game and stayed in Poki’s living room to play. Honestly, it was so good for you.

At the end if gaming, you said goodbye to the group. Then Poki showed you to the extra room that used to be her roommates before she moved out last month.

“Hey, are you looking for a roommate?” You asked as you put the bags on the bed.

Poki sent you a smile. “I am. Are you interested?”

This was good. “Yes, I mean I still have to find another job since my main is still furloughing me until this pandemic gets better but I have some money saved up.”

“Hey, please don’t sweat it. Besides, I know a friend who’s in need of an editor, I may have mentioned your name and she really wants to talk to you about it. Is that okay?”

“Wow, that’s perfect. Thank you, Poki. You’re such a great friend.” It felt good to have someone there for you.

She pulled you into a hug. “Always. I am so glad I met you. You’re one of my best friends.”

This was an honor. “Don’t make me cry.”

“I can’t promise anything. Anyway, I will leave you to rest. It’s been a long night. Tomorrow I will give you my friends details.”

“Sounds good, night Poki.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.” She waved goodbye and closed the door behind herself.

Smiling, you sat on the bed. It was such a good thing that she was here got you. But also Corpse was the catalyst that got you to actually tell Poki was what happening. He was sweet and it seemed he was looking out for you.

After changing into comfy pj’s, you brushed your teeth before climbing into the freshly made bed. Opening Instagram, you saw that Corpse has messaged you.

Corpse: I don’t like being too forward but hey here we go. Can I please have your number so we can talk more easily?

A smile made its way to your face. For a tough man, he surely had a sweet way of getting to you

Y/n: Yes you can. xxx-xxx-xxxx.

The nerves jumped when you sent that message. Less than a minute later, you received a text from an unknown number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hey Y/n, it’s Corpse. Would you mind if I called you so we could talk for a little?

You liked this idea truthfully. It only helped to show how genuine Corpse was being.

Y/n

Not at all. Please go ahead and call me.

Your phone rang, displaying Corpse’s name.

“Hello?” You answered the phone while pushing away the anxiety.

A soft deep laugh filled your ear. “Hey sweet girl. How are you feeling?”

His words made you want to sigh in the most lovesick way. That never happened these days.

“I’m good. Poki had an extra room I could crash in and well I might just be her new roommate.”

“I love that. She’s so much better than your sister I assume.”

“She is. Here I won’t have to deal with the incessant pandemic partying Olivia likes to do.” That selfish bitch.

“Shit, is she stupid? She does know she’s risking a lot of lives, right?” You loved that Corpse had the logic you craved.

“So she is stupid, and her response was always that it’s not her problem and that the vulnerable people should stay home.”

“She sounds like the typical beauty youtuber these days.”

“Yes, she is. She has no morals.”

“Well that’s not good. I guess that’s why her name keeps popping up all over social media. She really needs to be careful, before she becomes the next Tana.” He was right but you personally thought she was past that point already.

“It’s too late. She’s already passed the point of return with all of this.”

“Yikes. It’s good you got out of there when you did.” A soft but deep laugh was heard through the phone. The sound made you giggle. Hearing such a tough guy laugh the way Corpse laughs, made you feel giddy. “So about what I said earlier, I meant it.”

“Huh, what are you talking about?” You truly were a little lost by this.

Corpse laughed again. “When I called you cute earlier. I meant it.”

Heat filled your face and a small smile made its way to your lips. “Thank you, Corpse. That’s really sweet of you. I don’t like to show many people who I am because they will immediately connect me to Olivia, and I don’t want that.”

“I get that. I don’t show my face for fear they won’t like me when I do. All my fans have built up this expectation of what they want me to look like and now I just don’t want to let them down. Plus it’s nice being able to stay anonymous if I go into public, but of course people will hear my voice and know. Shit, it’s hard.”

“Awe, I’m sorry. I saw what the attention has done to some people, but I think not everyone goes into that headspace. Also, I think you should stay faceless if it makes you feel better. There is no rule that says you ever have to show your face. People who push you to do it have no boundaries.”

Corpse was quiet for a while and you thought you had offended him. “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing, Corpse.” You squeaked.

“No, you said the right thing. I was just thinking. You’re right. A lot of people have been on me to reveal my face, but I never intend to. I want to be able to live my life without being swarmed by fans, or god forbid, them judging me by my appearance.”

“Which is really fucked. When I first appeared in my sister video, the comments were awful. They couldn’t understand how she was related to me, but I never thought I looked bad. But I guess they expected Olivia to be surrounded by people in her genre. It was so hard to see those comments.” Thinking back to it, Olivia had even added to it. Telling you that you should have tried to look more like her for the video. You should have worn something more colorful and put-on way more make up then you liked. But you hated that. That wasn’t you.

“I can’t imagine the things they said. Is that why you deactivated your twitter?” How did he know about that?

“Oh, yeah. How did you know about it?”

“I remembered seeing a story about it on YouTube last year. They didn’t show your face, so of course I didn’t know it was you. But I figured it out when Olivia joined the game tonight and she blabbered on about being your sister. I’m sorry you received that hate. No one deserves that ever.” His voice was calming you now.

“Thank you. Olivia seemed to add to it, as well. Fuck, she’s just the worst person.” Family definitely had the ability to be shitty. “Meeting Poki last year really was the best thing. But also joining this Among Us group has been so good for me. Thank you for accepting me.”

“Of course. You’re a natural in the game but you also fit very well with the group.” Corpse really hoped you believed him because this was true. The group had a whole conversation about it when Olivia finally left

“I’m flattered. The Corpse Husband is telling me I fit in with him and his streamer friends. Wake me up, I must be dreaming.” You knew his words were genuine because it was just easy to tell.

“You better believe it, baby, because it’s true.”

You stopped short when you heard him call you baby. Of course Corpse had used that word before but right now it felt more intimate.

Letting out a yawn you realized it was nearing 4 am. “I appreciate it.” You mumbled, feeling the events from the day seep in.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” His deep voice was lulling you closer to sleep.

“No.” Another yawn broke through.

“You can’t lie to me, Y/n. Get some sleep and we will talk tomorrow.”

The words made you smile. “That sounds good, Corpsie. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” Despite wanting to stay on the phone, you hung up. Sleep was quickly coming in to claim you. You can happily say you fell asleep with a huge smile on your face.

Waking up was easier than it had been in a long time. Normally you woke up to Olivia screaming at you or someone else. So it was nice to wake up to silence. It allowed you to relax and wake up properly.

Your phone buzzed from beside you. A text from Corpse is what you first saw, so you opened it.

Corpse

Good morning, sweet girl. I hope the night treated you well.

Sweet and to the point. His messages made you think he had a thing for you. Well you hoped he did but he also could just be treating you the way he treats friends.

Y/n

Yes, I slept well and for once I wasn’t awoken by my obnoxious sister.

It would he good not to live with her.

Corpse

I bet. Hey I hate to be the one to show you this, but your sister posted this on her instagram.

He then sent a link to the post. It made your blood boil.

::::

There was a picture of her, she was holding up a ripped picture of you. A huge frown was on her face.

oliviaxoxo It’s a shame when family starts to treat you like you weren’t the one to give them money when they needed it. This is my sister and she’s a bitch. For the last few years, she’s been the one editing my videos. Well I found out she was trying to sabotage me, so I had to fire her and kick her out. What a shame it is when family stabs you in the back. 🙃🙃

1,454,787 people like this

oliviafan23 Is this true? Damn, f*ck fake people.

queenolivia Sueeee herrrrr!

lovinliv Family ain’t shit. Spill her info so we can drag her.

sykkuwu Whoa, why are you spreading lies about your own family?

queenolivia Why would you defend someone like that?

valkyrea You’re such a sad human for doing this. Stop lying.

pokimanelol Let’s see, none of this is true. Your sister has done so much for you and you’ve never appreciated it. Get some help for this.

corpse_husband This is sick. No wonder your name is always blasted everywhere. Do your sister a favor and stop talking about her.

oliviaxoxo I don’t know why you’re defending my stupid sister, but that totally makes you not hot to me anymore. Ugh.

valkyrea Uh, that’s what you got from this. Wow, you’re not worth this.

corpse_husband What can you expect? The covid must have gone to her brain. |

corpseandlivfan Whyyyyyyy Corpse, why would you stand up for her. Do you not realize how horrible Y/n is? Please tell me this is a joke!?!?

corpse_husband Well, she’s a good friend of mine and I won’t let people make up lies. So it’s not a joke.

::::::::

You were mad that she’d even say this shit publicly, but you should have known she would. She was nothing without her group of misguided followers.

Y/n

Can’t say I’m not surprised. This is so on brand for her. Thank you for sticking up for me. It means a lot.

Corpse

I would do it any day. She shouldn’t be able to get away with doing that to you.

Sadly, growing up, she did get away with doing the absolute worst shit and you always received the brunt of it.

Y/n

With any luck, she draws negative attention.

You clicked the link to view it again but instead were lead to a page that said the content was unavailable.

Y/n

I believe she just deleted the post.

Corpse

Oh, she did. That’s awesome.

It was. Olivia was never one to swallow her pride and admit any wrongdoings. That means she would never delete a problematic post, but she finally did

Y/n

I didn’t really read any other comments besides you and your friends and the top comments. I can’t imagine what her fans are really saying.

Olivia was completely okay with letting her fans attack people. It was seriously a huge mess. She fell into the category of YouTuber with the worst most entitled attitude.

Corpse

It’s good you didn’t read them, because they were horrible. I can’t believe she would let her fans do that.

Y/n

She’s done a lot of shady stuff. This is even before she blew up on YouTube. There is a lot of issues between us.

There was a lot that could be said about your relationship with Olivia and none of them were good. Forever it seemed, you had tried to make it work and hoped your sister would grow up and change but it never happened.

Corpse

I think she’s a vile human. From what I have seen and her complete lack of human decency, I just can’t help but feel she’s just not a good person and she never will be.

He was right. She would never change.

Y/n

You’re right. Hey, I have to go thank Poki for letting me stay but I also need to go back to that apartment to get the rest of my stuff. Can I call you when I get back?

Corpse

Yes, of course. Good luck heading over there.

Talking to him was pretty natural feeling. It was clear now that you were getting a massive crush on him. You had a crush on a man who’s face you’ve never seen. You couldn’t help it though, his personality just meshed so well with yours. He’d made you feel safe and wanted.

After getting dressed, you found Poki in the kitchen making breakfast. She sent you a sweet smile when you entered the room.

“Thank you for standing up for me against my sister on Instagram.” You were truly honored this group of friends liked you enough to do something like this.

“You’re welcome. I couldn’t just let her say that and get away with it. She’s done a lot to you, that you don’t deserve. Corpse messaged all of us the minute he found it and we all jumped into action. Sean and Felix were getting ready to comment when she deleted it.” She explained as she set a plate in front of you.

“I’m so honored. Thank you!”

“Of course, you’re one of us now and we will never let her get away with this stuff anymore.”

You could just cry with how loved they were making you feel. This is what had been missing in your life. Friends who genuinely cared about you and wanted to protect you from the nasty stuff Olivia was capable of doing.

“Would you come with me to the apartment to get the rest of my stuff?” You asked once the two of you finished eating.

Poki nodded. “Of course I will. You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

An hour later, you exited the elevator on the floor where you once resided. Your sister wasn’t home, which would be good but there was a chance she could return while you were packing. But you would deal with that when it came down to it. The two of you quickly got to work, packing your life up into the boxes you’d brought with you. Luckily, you weren’t one to collect a ton of stuff. You mainly just had to make sure your clothes and makeup were packed up.

You and Poki would fill boxes and pile them by there door, then you would take them down to the car when you acquired a good amount. In the end, you figured you would fill maybe 10 boxes which is actually not too many considering you’ve lived in that apartment for five years.

Poki had left to go take two more boxes to the car while you finished up packing up your last few items. The front door closed, and you assumed it was Poki, but it wasn’t.

“Oh look who’s here? My lovely sister.” Olivia’s voice was flat and emotionless.

You rolled your eyes and turned to find her standing in the doorway, glaring at you. “Hello, Olivia. I’m just packing my stuff and then I’m leaving.”

“Who said you were allowed to come back here?” She grumbled, eyeing the boxes.

“Well, this is my stuff and I have every right to come pick it up.”

“If it’s in my apartment, it clearly belongs to me.” She snarled.

You snapped. “Cut it out, Olivia. This was my apartment too, until you kicked me out last night. You can’t just claim my stuff as your because you’re salty about me having friends.” She was a spoiled brat, and you were done letting her get away with it.

“I’m not the salty one. Everyone can see it’s you.” God she was so annoying. You taped up the last box and turned to her. She held her phone in her hand. “Everyone say hi to my sister. You know, the one I posted about earlier before someone reported my post.”

“Are you live?” You asked, keeping your face expressionless. Olivia would do this.

“I bet some of you remember the few videos I did with her. Well of course that was before she turned against me and decided she was going to try and ruin me. Say hi, Y/n.” A sick smile played on her face.

“I never consented to being in your live, Olivia. Please stop.” You tried to keep your voice calm so that she wouldn’t have any way to make you look like the bad person. But regardless, she was already doing it.

Olivia cackled. “Well I think I’m free to do as I please in my apartment.” You could only imagine what her fans were saying. “You’re right, Andrea, she is an idiot, and I should have her arrested.” She spoke aloud making your blood boil.

“You’re so immature, Olivia.” You grumbled before grabbing the last couple boxes and moving towards the door. Olivia decided to swat the boxes out of your hand, and they fell tumbling to the ground. “What the hell, Olivia. I could have fragile stuff in there.” You growled at her.

Olivia was just laughing. “This is funny. What else should I do, guys?” She asked as she panned the phone around the room.

Her immaturity was giving you a headache. Poki walked in and saw Olivia.

“Oh hey guys, look who’s here. Pokimane.” She panned the camera to Poki who frowned. Olivia just laughed and started talking shit until she was cut off by the stream just ending. “What the hell.”

You gathered the last few boxes, and Poki came to help while Olivia attempted to start another live.

“What the fuck, it won’t let me go live.” She growled while stomping her foot like a child.

“That’s what happens when an influx of people report your live.” Poki spoke as you both had gathered the boxes.

Olivia was frowning. “What did you do, Y/n.” She wanted to pounce at her, but Y/n and Poki were already at the door.

“Y/n did nothing, but I got word of your little livestream and contacted some friends for help. It will be at least 24 hours before you can have another live. But with the amount of people who reported you, well you may be banned for a while.” With that, you and Poki left Olivia standing there is absolute shock.

You and Poki put the last boxes in the car. “Thank you, Poki. How did you get so many people to report it?”

“Well it was actually Corpse. He texted me and informed me that she was doing a live and bothering you. He had his fans go report it, but apparently Sykkuno and Rae also sent their fans. I was going to send mine, but they had it handled. So this was all Corpse.” She explained.

Hearing this made you feel so soft for Corpse. “Awe wow. That’s so sweet of him.”

The two of you entered the car. “Y/n, can I tell you something without you telling him I told you?”

You looked over at her. “Yes, sure.” Your heart rate kind of picked up.

“Well the other day, Corpse admitted he has feelings for you, but he wasn’t completely sure if you felt the same way for him. But I mean I can clearly see you do. Your whole face just lit up when I mentioned him. So do you?”

Heat filled your face and you suddenly felt shy. “I do, yes. Which is ridiculous because I just met the guy, and I don’t even know what he looks like. But gosh, I like him so much. When I talk to him, I feel happy. He’s been so good to me through this crap with Olivia.” You admitted, knowing she already knew.

Poki smiled and squealed in complete happiness. “You two are just the most adorable people! It’s not ridiculous. We pretty much knew from the first time you joined us, that Corpse was into you. But oh my god, you’re into him. You need to tell him!!!!”

You agreed, Corpse deserved to know. “I do. But how? It’s been a really long time since I’ve told someone I liked them. Shit, I feel like I’m in high school again!”

This made Poki giggle. “Calm down, Y/n. I have a plan. Let’s get back to the apartment and we will talk about this. Rae also wants to be involved in this.”

Back at her apartment, you had jumped onto a call with Rae and the three of you talked about what your plan was for you to tell Corpse what you felt for him. Rae and Poki decided to organize an Among Us game strictly for fun and no one would stream, they would also use Proximity chat.

“So we will get him to follow you around until one of us is imposter, then we will lock you into wherever you end up. Do it then” Rae explained sounding so excited.

“Okay, that can work. Let’s do this!” You were nervous but also excited to finally do something good for yourself.

You and Poki set up for the gane and Corpse sent you a text.

Corpse

Are you joining the game tonight?

Seeing a text from him, made you feel giddy.

Y/n

Yep I am. So I will see you in game?

Corpse

Yes you will, angel.

Cue the insane butterflies.

The lobby loaded and it was you, Corpse, Poki, Rae, Sykkuno, Karl, Tina, Sean, Toast, and Leslie. All streamers you had grown to like a lot in the time you have been playing with them.

“Y/n, I am so happy you’re playing with us!” Tina gushed as her little character ran around yours.

“I’m happy to be here.” You really were.

“You’re sister is a piece of work, Y/n.” Sykkuno said.

You giggled. “Don’t I know it.”

“What did she do this time?” Sean asked.

“Decided to film a live when we went to get Y/n’s stuff from the apartment.” Poki explained.

“Oh, that’s gross.” Karl commented.

“I have to thank Corpse for helping.” You stated to the group.

“Yeah Corpse was quick to text us.” Sykkuno added.

“You’re welcome, Y/n. I wasn’t going to let her get away with what she was doing. Truth is, I got a bunch of fan DMs that were telling me what Olivia was doing. So a lot of my fans were already reporting it, but the tweet helped.” Corpse’s deep voice soothed you.

“I appreciate it so much. She was just being an immature brat as always.”

The group laughed before deciding to start the game. Poki and Rae agreed to text you when either of them were imposter. Now it was a matter of getting Corpse to follow you.

The group was on the Polus map, which seemed to be a favorite for everyone.

Rae

We should lock them in weapons.

Rae had texted you and Poki through the group text.

Poki

That’s the best place for them.

Y/n

Okay but I still have to get him to follow me.

Rae

He will. Just wait, I have a plan.

You trusted Rae and Poki to help you. Now it was time to admit it all to Corpse and hope he genuinely liked you back.

Y/n

Let’s do this!

PART THREE >>

985 notes · View notes

nat-20s · 3 years

Text

Part 2 of post-canon Wonderful! Au because it is extremely fun for me to write!

~*~

Martin: Hello again, and welcome back to, uh-

Jon: -the shitshow?

Martin: No! At worst this podcast is like, the audio equivalent a messy living room. If there’s no worms or clowns or, or evil bosses that are actively trying to kill you, it’s not a shitshow.

Jon: You are aware that comments like that are the reason that we have conspiracy theorists, right?

Martin: Hey, I’ve read a fair amount of those conspiracy theories, and a couple of them have been weirdly bang on.

Jon: Martin, love, no, please do not feed into their suspicions. Once again, as general disclaimer, this show has no larger narrative. It really is just us having a nice time.

Martin: Seriously, though, what about our discussions of beekeeping or the feeling of discovering a new favorite album has got people believing we’re secretly vampires? Or from a parallel universe slightly to the left of this one? Could you imagine?

Jon, dry enough to chap lips: Hardly.

Jon: Though I will say, any of the theories that involve one or both of us being supernatural creatures are my personal favorites. I’m fascinated by what people are picking up on there, considering we are two perfectly normal human people.

Martin: Well, you are preternaturally handsome.

Jon: Oh god, shut up! That was terrible! First of all, even if that were true-

Martin:-it is. To everyone listening, my husband is very very good looking. I’d say he’s a trophy husband, but it turns out he’s also smart and loving and funny and strong and kind-

Jon, somehow blushing out loud: Will you stop it! As I was saying, first off, this is audio only, they have no idea how I look-

Martin: -you sound handsome-

Jon:-secondly, my husband outshines the sun, so if anyone should be accused of being preternaturally handsome, it’s certainly him-

Martin crosstalking, pleased:- christ, being on the receiving end of that is awful-

Jon: and finally, weren’t you last week saying something about an embarrassing old men in love quota? It’s wildly unfair of you to deplete our entire allowed supply in one comment at the top of the episode.

Martin: We actually got some feedback on that. Some of it was like, “no quota, we love love”, which is very nice, but trust me, it would result in an unlistenable show, and I’m the one that has to edit it. Most of it was closer to “old men? Aren’t you both in your mid-thirties lol?”. We are, but you know how people have the sentiment of “age is an attitude” when trying to encourage 60 year olds to go ziplining or whatever? Turns out, they’re right, and we’re in our 70s yelling at kids to get off our lawn.

Jon: Speak for yourself. My all white hair and deeply limited ability to care about popular culture makes me an absolute paragon of youth.

Martin, laughing: Of course. Especially by calling it “popular culture”.

Jon: Check the tik tok, it’s the preferred vernacular of The Youths, of which I am one.

Martin, still laughing: Yes, dear. Anyway, now that we’ve said nothing of import for a good three minutes, we should get on with the actual content, huh? Got any small wonders?

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Want to elaborate on that a little?

Jon: I do. There’s. Um. I swear there was something.

Martin: Want me to go first and come back to you?

Jon: Please.

Martin: My small wonder is the third area of feedback we got about last week. Specifically, it’s a five star review from Caitlyn S. that simply says, “I Can Not Stand Them” followed by a heart emoji.

Jon: Thank you Caitlyn. We also cannot stand each other, heart emoji.

Martin: Now it’s your turn to speak for yourself, I can stand you plenty. Actually, I would say I more than stand you, I rather like you a lot, heart emoji.

Jon, fond: Someone’s in a mood today, huh?

Martin: What can I say, it’s the first day of sun we’ve had in two? Two and half? Weeks. Forgive me if I feel like everything is a bit lighter.

Jon: No forgiveness necessary. Actually, that’s my small wonder, the first day of sunshine after weeks of grey, and, more specifically, how it makes my husband obnoxiously effusive with affection.

Martin, not genuinely wounded: Obnoxious?!

Jon: Only for others to witness, darling. If we weren’t recording right now, I would be personally responding to it with some very enthusiastic kissing.

Martin:…

Martin: So that will take us to our ad break.

Jon, laughing: We don’t have ads. Even if we did, this isn’t live.

Martin: What I’m hearing is that you think we should sacrifice artistic integrity-

(Jon snorts)

-and the genuine flow of conversation, before, might I add, we’ve even done our first things, in order to participate in some, ah, distinctly non-sexual but still amorous activity?

Jon: I didn’t say that, but I’m not opposed to it either.

Martin. In that case, listeners, if you hear any sort of audio differences as I talk about my first thing, no you didn’t, why would you, because we’re definitely not going to take a 5 to 15 minute break right now.

[THERE IS A DISTINCT OUT OF BREATH QUALITY TO THEIR SPEECH AS THEY BEGIN DISCUSSING MARTIN’S FIRST THING]

#tma #jonmartin #post canon #jon sims #martin blackwood #this part inspired by someone saying imagine the red string brigade for this podcast #and the thought tickled me SO MUCH #wonderful! au

380 notes · View notes

lululawrence · 3 years

Note

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

193 notes · View notes

filmmies-writing · 3 years

Text

Past, Present & Future

pairing : ex!avengers reader x Zemo

word count : 1.3k

warning : mention of death

summary : you used to visit Zemo at the prison after the event of civil war but then he cut you off because he started to have feelings for you. Now that Bucky’s going to break him out, he needs your help babysitting this bad guy.

a/n : hello guyssssss <3 It's been quite a while since I posted my debut one shot. I really do appreciate every like, reblog and comment from my previous work (for anyone who hasn't checked it out yet, here you go!)THANK YOU🥺 At first I was thinking of making a short fanfiction, 3 parts was the first thought that came to my mind but I really enjoy writing this so maybe it’ll be more than 3 parts I suppose. You can also leave your ideas for the next part in the comment or what you think of this chapter, I’d really love to read them :) And fyi, your likes, reblogs and comments are what keep me going so pls 🥺🥺😂😂 Sorry if there’s any mistakes, English is not my first language. Also I’ll pin my masterlist on this blog as soon as I finish making it :)))))

“And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me”

(I Found - Amber Run)

“Do you still visit him?” Bucky asked through the phone, his voice steady and calm, like he already made a decision in his mind.

“After I’d blipped back I might have been there once or twice, but the last time was last year I guess” you said and you shrugged your shoulders as you walked around your apartment trying to find a chocolate you just bought but forgot where you put it at.

Yes, you’ve visited this criminal several times and some of your teammates know it. After you were informed about why he started all of his demeanors, about his motivation, as a person who doesn’t have any family left and witnessed everything that happened at the battle of Sokovia with your own eyes, you strongly have sympathy for him.

You see him as a man who let his emotions and anger take over his intelligent-self and just tried to do what he thought was right, what he thought it’ll make him feel better after he achieved it. And now that he succeeded his plan, deep down he still feels pretty empty. You can tell just from looking at him in the eyes, even there’s a thick glass between. And you bet he had taken some steps back to see his work and spent some time with himself, thinking. And you know he could see it too. Nothing changed, his family is still gone. Only thing new to him is that he now has to spend years after years rotting in German prison, which allows him to have more time to think about his family and his past actions. He was about to go insane.

But thank god you went to visit him.

You started to visit him for the very first time after six months of the airport battle. Bringing him some books considering how boring he would feel behind bars. But you were quite confused when you saw that his cell is more superior than the others. Even though it may seem dark and lifeless like the other cells, his cell is a lot bigger compared to others. He also has privileges to read all the up-to-date newspapers and books given from the guards that he seems to be paying extra for.

In the beginning, it was him who always started a conversation by questioning you. According to his genius mind’s calculation, he never expected any Avengers to visit him and especially to be this nice to him after what he had done, what he had caused. And clearly he was wrong, so he needed to know why you’re doing all of this since he thought he can never be wrong. Maybe you want to take revenge at him? Or could it be that you’re just really nice?

“Why being so nice to me?” he asked directly, wanting to see your reaction to his action.

“I just feel bad for what happened to you” you didn’t lie but kept looking down to the ground to avoid his gaze on you. You’ve heard about his reputation, how good he is at manipulating and you didn’t want to be his another victim.

It took only a few more times of visiting him for you to realize that you unexpectedly bonded with your friends’ greatest enemy and surprisingly enjoy spending your time with him, he would always tell you stories from his many journeys, but still not the private ones. He never wanted to share any of his family’s memories with anyone and he intended to keep it that way.

After getting to know him a lot more than you should, you soon realized that he’s a Baron after all, a royalty, which answered your curiosity perfectly about why he can still access so many privileges even behind the bars.

In return, you shared with him how you feel to be an Avengers, pressures and expectations you had received during that time. A hard decision you made that still haunts you in your sleep every night.

You two sometimes share your opinion on books you bring to him. You went back to the prison countless times with a handful of snacks, sweets and books. That’s why he thinks you’re too nice, too good for him.

Although he’s in prison, he still manages to spoil you with many presents that have been sent to your door time after time on special days such as your birthday and Christmas.

For Helmut, at first, these acts were only to return your kindness. At least that’s what he convinced himself since he doesn’t want to admit that he started to have feelings for you. He keeps telling himself he’ll never love again, but you make it hard for him.

And for you, no one has ever cared about you as much as he did. But still, you persuaded yourself he’s just a friend, a good friend.

But when it came to the point that Zemo cannot lie to himself anymore, he decided to face the truth and deal with it in a very definitive way. He cut you off. Completely.

He added your name to the list of people he prohibited to visit him. You were heartbroken when you first found out but maybe it’s for the best that things didn’t go any further than this, you cajoled yourself. In the first few months, it was hard for you not to think of him, but now that it has been almost a year, you’re finally doing fine.

To clarify his action, his mind keeps telling him that after what he had done to you, he doesn’t deserve you. You deserve to be happy, to live your life with someone that’s not stuck in a prison like him. Someone as good as you. Not a state-criminal like him. Another reason for him would be because he doesn’t want anyone to replace his wife. Even after so many years she has passed away, she still holds a very special place in his heart and he would never want any memories with someone else to replace those precious memories he has left of her.

“And do you think it’s gonna be fine if he’s out of the prison?” Your eyes automatically blinked, starting to feel terrified by what Bucky just asked you.

“I... I... I don’t know, I can’t reassure you anything, I mean I believe that he’ll be useful to your case but he can be very manipulative so you must be careful when he’s out” You said what you could think of at that moment. You can never think straight when it comes to the Baron.

Bucky replied with silence for a moment but not too long until he continued the conversation and said “Wanna do your old friends a favor?”

You know he wants you with them in case things go wrong with Zemo since you seem to be the one who knows him best compared to them. Also in Bucky and Sam’s aspect, your fighting and investigating skills would be really helpful to the team. And who knows what the new cap is about? So it’s clearly better to have you included in this little team.

“Sure..” To be honest, you’re quite afraid to face the Baron again but you can never say no to your friends and plus you want to do something in return for them since they always taking a good care of you, they’re like older brothers to you and you couldn’t let they go out there on their own knowing that you can help them.

“See you at the prison tomorrow then, I believe you know your way there already” Bucky replied before hanging up.

This is going to be a hell of a journey!

237 notes · View notes

rishi-eel · 3 years

Text

thinking (yet again!) about the differences between the bad batch story reels and the season seven arc and like... some changes just blow my mind because all it did, really, was make the bad batch less likable.

lets star with the whole “reg” thing. if i remember correctly, in the originals “regs” is said twice. the first instance is by crosshair when taunting jesse in the LAAT. the second is said by hunter: he tells tech (who’s hacking into the cyber center) that he and wrecker are going to “go get the regs” (i.e. rex and jesse). that is, hunter only used it among his squad when the others were not present (much like how cody informs that the bad batch are defective clones out of earshot. these words are descriptors, but there’s also an offense associated to being referred to by them). the idea that hunter has restraint referring to regular clones this way in their faces connects, i think, to how hunter was a tad more apologetic to jesse in the original script. “he means regular clones. don’t take it personal. it’s just that we don’t always follow protocol” carried an actual sense of hunter trying to convince jesse that it’s nothing to do with him.

it’s interesting, i think, that in a context where you have clones and defective clones, that the bad batch (as defective clones) would find a way to talk about other clones in reference to themselves in a way that normalizes their own existence. it also introduces the idea that the bad batch experience a level of disconnect, and even animosity, in regards to other clones. all that can be conveyed by only using the word twice. the season seven episodes added three more instances, and in all of them the bad batch members comfortably throw the word around the clones who “are regs.” the sense of separateness (which, again, was already established/achieved by using it just two times) is only made stronger (thus more needs to be done to portray a sense of reconciliation or coming together. the reels succeed this to an extent because that barrier wasn’t built up as high).

so yeah in the original... wrecker didn’t say “we always get shot down when we travel with regs,” he kept quiet as he helped people out of the wrecked gunship (in fact, wrecker lost a lot of subtlety going from the reels to the final eps, which i’ll get back to). hunter didn’t fake-compliment rex with a “not bad, for a reg”! and oh boy crosshair’s comment implying that echo is worthless and expendable because he’s a “reg”... yeah that was not in the reels either. in fact, not only does crosshair not call echo a reg, the meaning of his original dialogue was completely different.

in the original, after hunter voices his suspicions echo might be dead, crosshair suggests that if alive echo could be cooperating with the enemy, making him a traitor. rex takes this as an attack on echo’s character and crosshair explains that no, he’s not intending to insult echo, by saying: “oh i don’t blame him, if i were left for dead, i wouldn’t be so loyal.” and like!!!!! that’s such a radically different line of dialogue because crosshair seems to blame rex for having left echo behind, actually. if you betrayed the republic to survive, or even out of spite, i don’t blame you even if you now present a threat to myself and my family, is such an interesting, empathetic sentiment. and that contrasts with the lack of regard given to rex, making it read like he’s condemning rex for leaving someone behind. crosshair doesn’t seem to understand, as an experimental commando clone, the pressures rex as a legion captain is under, because he’s seen a less expandable (they’re a specially trained four man team, if one dies that’s 25% of the unit gone. is there a replacement for that member? you get the idea). so you’ve got a clash between different povs, but also crosshair being shown as having a set of morals, chief among them being that you do not leave anyone behind. so remember when rex says to move out and crosshair goes “commander cody is in no position to move” yeah i’d say that’s crosshair making sure cody isn’t being left behind. when crosshair saves anakin? that’s because he saw anakin go off on his own and followed him. because you don’t leave people behind. and like... the idea that yeah crosshair is an asshole. he’s unpleasant and that’s deliberate. he doesn’t care if people like him and he’s not trying to be liked. but that he values the lives of other people and looks out for them? that makes an interesting, flawed and multifaceted character. that got lost in the dialogue change because its no longer suggested that crosshair holds these values.

as for what i said earlier about wrecker: he lost subtle, nonverbal moments through the addition of lines that are either anticlimactic or only serve to make him seem loud or ditzy in an exaggerated fashion. he didn’t laugh when the LAAT came down. he was quiet as he helped people out of the downed gunship (no comment about regs!). he didn’t say “boom” when the ship exploded in the background after he flipped it over (the difference? a character moment that’s actually cool and impressive vs something that’s corny). when wrecker comes to crosshair’s aid by picking rex off of him, there was no quippy one liner. there was no need for anything to be said for it to be understood that wrecker is acting as a barrier and it trying to intimidate rex. when he’s afraid to get onto the elevator? that’s conveyed visually through camera angles and through hunter picking up on the fact that he’s scared. he doesn’t scream (if you can call a comical “aah what is that thing oh no its going to get me” a scream) when the organic decimator almost gets him. when they walk across the pipe? wrecker doesn’t whimper or talk to himself for comfort. he is scared of heights, that’s already been established, but he’s also a grown man and a soldier like he’s keeping that to himself? like we see wrecker hesitating to walk on the ledge but doing it anyway because he has to. in a piece of dialogue that was cut, tech said “does anyone want to know the odds of us making it across alive?” to which wrecker (who’s you know already having a bad time) interrupts with “don’t even think about it, tech” (if ur curious, this exchange was replaced with: wrecker: “keep walking tech!” tech: “that’s fine, but if you fall don’t take me with you” which???? uuh weird exchange). also, the fact that wrecker was mostly dealing with his fear silently means that when hunter tells wrecker to hold on because they’re almost there... that’s because hunter knows he’s scared and is checking up on him. basically... any kind of serious moment was cheapened by having wrecker talk in them. now i don’t want to say that DBB is a bad voice actor, but his expertise is making animal noises. he’s not able to do a realistic, deep voice, meaning that whenever wrecker talks he kind of sounds like a joke. it’s fine when wrecker is actual being lighthearted and jokey, but otherwise? the emotion just does not come across as genuine, which breaks the stakes or weakens credibility.

and god the whole plot point about the bad batch being suspicious of echo was nonexistent in the reels. the “don’t worry, echo says he’s got a plan”/”that makes me feel so much better” exchange between rex and tech is in the original, but tech’s sarcasm isn’t from doubting echo’s allegiance, it’s because they’re planning to land on admiral trench’s ship and echo having a plan (that he himself doesn’t know) doesn’t exactly soothe his anxieties. rex acts like tech’s being a big joker and playfully shoves him, telling him to get on board. which is an interesting interaction because these characters are kind of starting to bond?? as for tech and echo, they kinda become nerdy friends really quick. like when tech warns echo not to send the signal right away because he first needs to make it look like it’s coming from skako minor, echo’s like “oh yeah good thinking tech.” and when echo figures out a way to shut down all the droids at once tech is impressed and lightly shoves his shoulder. again there is none of that “oooh maybe echo’s a traitor maybe he’s with the techno union” shit. like i understand that the writers wanted to up the stakes but it falls flat because the idea of echo being a traitor isn’t credible. it does not seem like an actual risk or possibility. so all it did was make the bad batch seem like assholes, cutting away at some very nice character moments.

ok this is a long post and you might ask yourself “but tumblr user rishi-eel, why do you care so much about the story reels, this stuff isn’t canon now” and there are a couple reasons, first, i think it managed to tell a better story overall. so the question is: why is that? because you would expect that writers reworking the plot would add improvements and not downgrades. and to be fair, the s7 episodes had a bunch of upgrades, but not when it came to the characterization of the bad batch. another thing to consider is that changes were made in the context of setting the bad batch up as future protagonists of their own spinoff series (something the original arc was not intended to do because there were no plans for a bad batch series). were the characters made flatter and more archetypal to add to marketability? was the reg/defective clone rivalry (and dichotomy, even) amplified because this separateness serves a narrative in which the bad batch are heroes and the other clones villains?

#long post #clone force 99 #the bad batch #it's late and i haven't proof read so there might be typos and stuff but. here are my thoughts #rishi-outposts.txt

262 notes · View notes

folklorelise · 3 years

Text

Please don’t go out with someone else.

Synopsis: How did squad leader mom met the captain and how they got together.

MASTERLIST; ASK (request or anything else)

Your brother and Wylan, your childhood friend, always wanted to join the training corps. As you were only a year younger than them, you grew up with them constantly talking about joining the military – naturally, you wanted to join the military too. Your parents tried to talk the three of you out of this, but it was useless. Wylan always wanted to see what was outside the walls, therefore he knew he wanted to join the survey corps. Your brother tried to talk him out of this, but Wylan was stubborn.

When you finally reached the appropriate age to join the survey corps, you were beyond excited. Your brother and Wylan both waited another year so you could all join together.

“This is going to be so fun!” Wylan shouted the first day.

Out of the three of you, your brother was the best one – he was a great fighter, he was great with the gear and he was very obedient as well. Wylan was doing great – nothing exceptional but he could easily make into the top ten.

“At this rate, I’m sure the three of us will end up in the top ten and you know what that means?” your brother asked, “we could all move inside of wall Sina, and have a nice and peaceful life.”

“I don’t want to be part of the military police.” Wylan stated, “I’m joining the survey corps, no matter what happens.”

“Why would you do this?” your brother yelled. “Wylan, I didn’t want to bring this up but your parents –.”

“Yes, I know what happened to them.” Wylan argued. “I know they sacrificed themselves outside, they were both soldiers and having a kid was clearly a bad choice. That doesn’t mean I won’t join the survey corps too.” Wylan paused a second, “You think I’m stupid for wanting this.”

“No. It’s just that I want to grow old with you beside me.” your brother admitted. “And with you being in the survey corps, that won’t be possible.”

“I could visit –.” Wylan started.

“That won’t be possible because you might die outside!” your brother then looked at you, “you’re coming with me, right?”

“I might no be able to do that. None of us will if we’re not in the top ten.” you hesitated.

That night, before going to bed, Jesper, your brother, pulled you on the side so he could talk to you alone.

“Don’t mess up with tests tomorrow.” he told you.

“What?”

“I know you’re capable of doing the bare minimum, so you won’t have to choose. If you want to join the survey corps too, I…” he took a deep breath, “please take care of Wylan for me.”

“You could come with us.” you suggested. “You’re amazing, better than anyone else here, so why don’t you want to?”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to know what it feels like to be in front of a titan and knowing that they’ll eat me when I can be safe inside.” Jesper worried.

“Please go talk to Wylan, I don’t want you two to fight. You’re both choosing different paths and you know, it’s ok.”

“Yeah. I should apologise.”

“Also, I will try my best to keep him safe outside.”

“Thank you.” Jesper smiled before leaving.

Without surprise, Jesper ended up being ranked first while you were third and Wylan fourth. Amongst the top ten, there was only you and Wylan who did not choose the military police. Before leaving, Jesper came to see you both to tell you goodbye.

“I’m going to miss you.” Wylan told Jesper.

“I’m going to miss you too.” Jesper held Wylan’s hand tightly.

“Great,” you added smiling, “I mean, great to know I’ll be missed too.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” your brother smiled before hugging you.

“Yeah, anyway I’ll leave first because I feel like a third wheel here. I’ll see you later.”

When you finally arrived at the survey corps headquarters, you had a few hours to clean your clothes into your dorm before meeting everyone else on the training grounds to meet your future squad leader. You were beyond relieved when you found out Wylan and you were in the same squad because making friends was not your specialty.

“Hi, I’m Erwin. I’m your squad leader.”

“You’re really young.” you commented which resulted in Wylan punching you softly.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Wylan apologised.

“No, it’s fine. I worked hard for this post and I am proud of it.”

Later that day, you both met Hange.

“Really nice to meet you. I heard you two ranked top ten.” Hange said. “You won’t regret your choice, I’m sure it’ll be fun!”

“I’m Wylan, and this is Y/N.”

That night, you all drank and ate together – that is how you became friend with Hange, Mike, Erwin – your squad leader – and many other comrades.

Your first expedition took place a month after your arrival – it started great. There were only a few titans. Unfortunately, after a few days, it started to rain. At first, it was fine but when it turned out to be an enormous storm – it started to worry everyone.

The order was to stay close to each other so no one would get lost. When the storm finally calmed down – you looked around and noticed a lot of missing people.

“Where – Where’s Wylan?” you asked loudly.

“Y/N,” Erwin held you back, “he might be with another squad somewhere else.”

“No,” you mumbled panicked, “he – he was just behind me. He should be here too!”

You walked away and sat down somewhere calm, hoping for Wylan to show up. The remaining squads arrived one after the another, each one missing some of their soldiers.

“Y/N, the commander arrived,” Hange said quietly, “let’s go.”

The expedition just started which meant that it had to continue. A few hours passed, and as you followed Erwin on your horse you noticed a few bodies sitting under a tree on your left.

“Squad leader Erwin,” you hesitated, “look.” you pointed at where the bodies were.

Erwin and the rest of the squad run to them. You pushed them aside when you saw Wylan was one of the injured soldiers.

“Wylan!” you sobbed, “Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey.” Wylan choked, “I’m… glad… you’re alive.”

“You are too.” you cried.

“I’m sor–.”

“No, it’s ok, we’re going to be fine.” you tried to hold your tears back.

“Tell him… I love him…” Wylan took a deep breath, “ok?”

“Ok. I’m sure he knows and that he loves you very much too.”

“Good.” Wylan smiled weakly, “thank you… for coming back...”

You stayed with Wylan until he passed away – then, the soldiers’ bodies were all put in the cart and as the cart went back inside the walls, you had to continue.

When the expedition finally ended, you headed straight to Wylan dorm so you could clean his clothes and other belongings. You sent a letter to your family and Jesper so they could come for the funeral the survey corps organised for all the loses.

“I’m so sorry.” you cried when you saw Jesper again. “When I – he was…”

“It’s ok.” Jesper hugged you. “It’s ok.” he repeated.

Your parents brought flowers with them – in front of Wylan tomb, there were only the four of you.

“I’m going to bring his things.” you said, “can you guys help me?” you asked your parents so Jesper could have some privacy with Wylan.

You had put everything in a small bag, except for Wylan cloak which you decided to keep. Everything else was giving to Jesper. Before leaving, Jesper spent some time with you in your empty dorm.

“Did you… did he said anything before…”

“He told me to tell you that he loves you.” you whispered.

You both stayed together, in complete silence before he got up and had to leave. You reluctantly walked to the mess hall for dinner and sat with Hange. They smiled at you and you both ate in silence too – no one really wanted to talk.

Years went by and at the age of twenty-four, you became a squad leader. Hange had been promoted a few years before you – everything was going great. Then, one day, Erwin brought in three new recruits from the Underground. After commander Shadis put them in Flagon’s squad, you left with Hange et Erwin.

“What did you do?” you asked Erwin once you three were alone. “Why would you bring three thugs from the underground here?”

“They could be an asset to the survey corps. You should go and see them fight.”

“They have zero experience; they had no training. Just look at how disrespectful they are!”

“They are better than some of us at using the gear with no training.” Erwin corrected you.

“We’ll pay them a visit later.” Hange said.

“Great.” Erwin smiled before leaving.

“I don’t want to.” you told Hange.

“Oh, come on, please come with me!”

On their first day of training, you and Hange joined Flagon. You were all talking waiting for them to arrive, but after ten minutes of waiting, you volunteered to go and look for them. The first place you went for was the changing room with all the gear you used.

“You’re late.” you stated when you saw Isabel still with her gear undone.

“Sorry.”

“Well, hurry. Also, where are your two other friends?” you asked, “doesn’t matter, I’ll go look for them.”

“Wait.” Isabel stopped you, “This gear is a little different from what we used. I don’t know how to put it on correctly, no one told me.”

You turned around and slowly walked to her and explained to her how to put it on easily and quickly. When Isabel was done, you both walked out, and her friends were waiting for her outside.

“Next time try to be on time.” you told them when you walked out.

“Sorry miss.” Furlan apologised.

“It’s squad leader Y/N.” you corrected him harshly.

When you joined Flagon, he was fuming – screaming that they were irresponsible for making him wait that long and that they should just go back to where they came. When they started to kill the wooden titans, you were all speechless.

“Oh my!” you shouted impressed, “Erwin was right.”

“I wouldn’t have mind having them with me.” Hange stated impressed as well. “Flagon, you’re lucky as hell.”

Flagon ignored you and left to talk to them while you and Hange were talking about how good they were.

“Levi’s the most impressive right?” Hange said.

“Hell yeah!” you agreed. “Now I just want to see them in front of real titans. Act cool.” you told Hange when you saw them coming back.

“You were awesome!” Hange shouted, “Even more because you didn’t receive any training. Right Y/N.”

“You were great, yeah.” you commented calmly.

The next expedition was announced a few days later – it would take place in a month and half. Isabel and you became quite close since you were in charge of teaching them how to ride the horses – Flagon traded with you. While you would do his work, he will do some of your paperwork.

Furlan was polite and nice – he was making a lot of effort to blend in like Isabel. The only one who did not try was Levi. You tried to talk to him multiple times, but he would never answer you.

“Oh right,” you said before they would leave, “this weekend you’re allowed to leave the headquarters so you can visit family or just walk around the market. If you don’t want to leave, I can bring things for you if you’d like.”

“Can you bring back some of the cake you had last time?” Isabel asked referring to the cake your mom had baked.

“I’d like that too.” Furlan smiled.

“Sure, I’ll send a letter to my mom. What about you Levi?”

“Bring me some tea. And not the one you have here because it’s disgusting.” Levi said.

“Tea? Ok, I can do that.” you smiled, “you know it’s the first time you ever said anything to me.” you laughed before leaving.

You went back to your room to write your letter asking your mother to bake some cake and gather some tea leaves. While you were in your room, the trio went to their usual spot in the roof.

“I like Y/N,” Isabel started, “she’s nice.”

“Weirdly nice to us,” Levi said, “you didn’t tell her anything right?”

“I didn’t!”

“I don’t understand why she is that nice though.” Furlan added. “She didn’t seem to like us at first.”

“She changed her mind, she got to know us better –.” Isabel defended you.

“We’re leaving soon so it doesn’t matter.” Levi said.

Two years ago, your parents had the chance to move inside of wall Sina thanks to their business growing. You left Friday night to your parent’s house. Jesper was the one who came to take you home.

Saturday morning, Levi found it odd that you were with them – because you would always greet them in the morning. They did not know that you left earlier the day before. Hange and Erwin noticed how Levi was looking around and staring at every new person entering the mess hall.

“You should go and tell him that she’s not here.” Hange told Erwin.

“You go.” Erwin said.

“Fine.” Hange went to their table. “Hi. I noticed how you were looking for Y/N… I think.” Hange told Levi.

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh, then never mind.”

“But now that you’re here, where is she?” Levi asked.

“She went home last night. She’ll be back in three days. No need to worry.”

“I wasn’t.”

Levi hated himself for missing you – he tried to convince himself that he wanted to see you because you promised him tea, but deep down, he missed your calm and joyful presence. You had a lot of baskets full of food your mother prepared which meant your brother had to come and help with it.

“Where is there a short man glaring at me like that?” Jesper told when you left the carriage.

“What?” you asked him confused.

Jesper discreetly nodded towards Levi.

“I don’t know.” you said.

“Well, I’m leaving you here.” Jesper said going back into the carriage. “You’re good, right?”

“Yes, I’ll see you soon, bye!” you hugged him one last time before he left.

There were in total five big baskets of food – you tried to take them all at once for more efficiency, but it was a failure. Levi from behind took three of them seeing you struggling.

“Thank you.” you smiled, “we should just put them in my room.”

You walked in silence to your room and once Levi put everything on your desk – he started to leave but you stopped him by grabbing his sleeve.

“You forgot your tea.” you let go of his sleeve. “Oh, I also brought you this tea set, because the one we have here is really old.” you explained as you gave him an entire basket. “There’s also Furlan and Isabel’s food in there.”

“Thank you.” Levi whispered before leaving.

Two days after you came back, Levi stormed in your room at night as you were ready to go to bed. When Levi saw you in a simple tee shirt and some short, he immediately left your room. You slowly opened your door only to find Levi still outside of your room.

“Are you ok?” you asked worried.

“Yes.” Levi blushed slightly. “Your mother, I don’t know how she organised her tea. I need your help.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “let’s go then.” you closed your door.

“Are you not going to put on more clothes?” Levi asked you, “because it’s cold.”

When you noticed how Levi still would not look into your eyes, you decided it would be better to put on a long jacket.

You followed him to the kitchen, where he had prepared two cups and some water and every tea flavour your mother had packed.

“Each colour of bags represents a flavour,” you explained, “Mh, I thought she wrote on it which flavour it was, but I think with time she just stopped writing it – because she knew. What flavour you want to drink now?”

“You choose.”

“I like green tea, but it’s late in the night now so we should try something else. Like chamomile.” you thought.

Levi poured hot water into the teapot and you waited five minutes before pouring some into the cups. You sat in front of each other at the nearest table to the kitchen and drank in silence.

“Why are you staring at me?” Levi asked drinking his tea.

“I always like to look at pretty flowers and pretty things in general,” you said which made Levi raise his eyebrows, “that’s why I was staring at you.” you completed your sentence smiling.

Levi felt his cheeks getting hotter – he was speechless. No one ever before complimented him, ever so that was new. Meaning, he did not know how to answer.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, “you’re really red. Oh no, is it because of the tea?” you reached out your hands to touch his face. “Are you having a fever?” you worried.

“No, I’m fine.” Levi took your hands and put them on the table but did not let go of them. “Your hands are soft.” Levi said.

“Your hands are warm.” you smiled squeezing his hands softly.

You were both looking at each other when suddenly the door opened on Isabel and Furlan which made Levi back away from you.

“Oh, sorry.” Isabel said, “did we interrupt something?”

“No.” Levi said. “I’ll meet you in ten minutes.”

“Ok.” Furlan left with Isabel.

“You can go, I’ll clean this up.” Levi started to gather the cups and teapot.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Neither you nor Levi slept that night – it was not unusual for Levi, but for you it was. You could not stop thinking about what happened before Isabel and Furlan came in and neither could Levi.

After that, Levi would often make small talk with you when you were alone. He would often call you to drink tea with him before you went to bed. Then, a few days before their first expedition, Levi started to avoid you more and more which you did not find odd – it might be stress about the expedition. You were busy with your squad and paperwork. The day of the expedition, you went to see Levi because it had been a while.

“I’ll probably see you during the expedition though, but I wanted to see you before leaving. Good luck out there even though I know you don’t need it.”

Your squad was next to Hange’s and the expedition started. The few years after Wylan’s passing, every time it rained during an expedition you would start to panic and not be as useful as you would usually be. Surprisingly, the survey corps never experienced another storm during an expedition – it always happened before or after it. Therefore, when it started to rain heavily you started to be worried.

“Y/N,” Hange called you, “it’s ok.”

“Yeah.” you whispered, “no one walk away from me.” you ordered to your squad.

As the storm started, Hange’s squad and yours took shelter on high trees leaving your horses under you.

“Are you ok?” Hange asked you.

“Yes. It’s going to calm down soon, and it’ll be good.”

When the storm calmed down, Erwin’s squad passed on your way, so you joined them. After assuring him that no one was injured, you continued to ride on your horse. Erwin, Hange and you were leading the way, but very soon you stopped when you noticed all the blood on the ground.

“Wha – what happened?” you trembled. “Wh – who’s squad…” you got off your horse.

“That’s… the steam from the fallen titans.” Erwin said. “Are there any survivors out there?” Erwin yelled.

When you all approached the steam, you found Levi on his knees next to someone’s head which made you look away.

“Are you the only one left?” Erwin asked, “The corpses of these titans… you did this alone…?”

Levi stared at Erwin before tackling Erwin down of his horse. Mike, Hange and you took out your blades ready to defend Erwin, but he ordered us to stay back. Levi put his blade next to Erwin’s neck before speaking.

“Erwin, I’m going to kill you, you bastard. That’s why I’m here.”

Erwin showed Levi the envelope he kept on him and explained to him what happened.

“Why did you bring us into the corps?”

“Your military prowess…” Erwin started, “And to use you as partners to throw off Lovof…but now, it’s all over.”

Levi pushed on his blade, but Erwin stopped it with his hand.

“Who’s the one that killed my subordinates, your friends. Was it me? Was it you? Do you think that if you had come to attack me together that the two of them would have made it out alive?” Erwin asked, “No! It was the titans!”

Everyone else listened to Erwin’s speech including Levi.

“Fight with the survey corps Levi. Humanity needs your skill!”

The end of that expedition came sooner than you thought. You made sure that your squad members were doing ok then you went back to your room to clean up. You made sure to write a letter to your brother first so he would know that you were still alive and then you decided to go check on Levi.

“Levi?” you knocked on his door, but no one answered. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

For the next few days, Levi rarely went out of his room. Furlan and him were the only ones sleeping there – meaning no one could bother him. A week after the end of the expedition, Levi came to your room one night.

“Levi.” you put your book down.

“You said… I could talk to you.”

“Of course, you can.” you sat on your bed. “I’m sorry for your loss.” you added as you saw Levi pacing around your room.

“I can’t…I don’t know what to do.” Levi sat next to you. “Whenever someone knocks on my door, I keep hoping it would be one of them.”

“I know…” you paused, “after that, you’ll feel anger.” you hesitated, “Then comes the guilt, thinking what if I was quicker or what if I made a different choice… maybe I could’ve helped. After that, you’ll feel sad. Eventually, it won’t hurt as much as it used to, to talk about them. It’ll get better.”

“How do you know it will get better?”

“It is terrible, but this probably won’t be your last loss. And I –… I lost my best friend a long time ago. It was our first expedition too…”

Levi and you were lying on your bed in silence.

“I can’t sleep.” Levi admitted. “It’s getting lonely in that room.”

“I can stay with you if you want.” you yawned.

“Sorry, I’m keeping you from sleeping – I’ll go.” Levi stood up but you held his hand.

“You can stay here. I don’t mind.” you looked at Levi.

You moved on the inner side of your bed so Levi could lay next to you. Levi did not let go of your hand when he laid down on your bed.

“Goodnight Levi.” you said before falling asleep very quickly.

“Goodnight Y/N.” Levi whispered looking at you.

Levi found himself getting sleepier and when he closed his eyes – for the first time in a long time – he fell asleep without any difficulty. In the middle of the night, you woke up feeling thirsty and noticed that Levi was sleeping. He was still holding your hand which made it impossible for you to get up.

You always have a glass of water ready next to your bed, but you were on the wrong side of the bed. You got up and tried not to wake Levi up or letting go of his hand and drank your water. When you went back to bed, Levi finally let go of your hand and turned on his side – his back against you. You took a deep breath before wrapping your arms around Levi.

Levi was the first one to wake up. You were clinging tightly around Levi which made it impossible for him to move without waking you up.

“Mh, morning.” you mumbled when you woke up.

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” you asked still holding onto Levi.

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“We could do this every night…” you said. “if you want, because…” your cheeks started to heat up.

“Yeah.” Levi breathed.

After a few minutes of staying in bed, you both got up and brushed your teeth and changed into new clothes. You arrived together in the mess hall and when you saw Levi going to eat alone, you held his shirt back.

“Come eat with us.” you pointed at your usual table with Hange, Mike and Erwin.

“No, it’s fine.”

“They don’t mind.” you looked at your friends, “right?”

“We don’t.” Erwin smiled.

You sat next to Levi and while he ate in silence, you were chatting with everyone. Your friends noticed how Levi and you became a lot closer since that day:

- Levi would often finish eating first, instead of leaving he waited for you to finish eating.

- You would always come in together in the morning.

- You would always leave together at night.

- According to Mike, Levi smelled like you – logic since he slept in your room with you.

“Are they together?” Hange once asked.

“They have to be.” Nanaba said. “Right?”

“Should we ask them?” Hange said.

“You ask them.” Mike suggested.

“No thanks. Oh, here they come,” Hange said, “act natural.”

Everyone suspected you two to be together, but neither Levi nor you said anything about it. Levi and you both had feelings for each other, but no one was brave enough to make the first step. You acted like a couple without really being one.

Two months after this, Jesper paid you a visit which made Levi confused. He did not know Jesper was your brother meaning he thought you were going on a date with someone. At night when you came back, Levi took you to your room.

“I like you.” Levi suddenly admitted. “Please don’t go out with someone else.”

“I – I like you too. A lot.” you smiled.

“So… who was that man?”

“Jesper? He’s my brother!”

“Oh.” Levi looked away embarrassed.

“So, are we a couple now?”

“I��d like that.”

“Me too.”

—————

Bonus about how people found out about it — Hange saw your two like this:

#attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #squad leader mom au #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #erwin smith #hange zoë #levi ackerman x you #attack on titan fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan #snk #aot

349 notes · View notes

fallensimeon · 3 years

Text

Take Me For A Ride (NSFW 18+)

A spicy F!MC x Mammon smut mixed with a little angst and fluff, my first time trying out writing! Don’t judge too harshly, I tried my best y’know!

Topic warnings: F!MC, angst, smut, fluff, intercourse, car sex, fellatio, rough play (nearly BDSM-ish), biting, blood, curse words, yelling, dirty talking. Read at your own risk!

Words: 5,419

Y/N has enough of the brothers attacking Mammon, and comforts him when he needs her the most. One thing leads to another, and, well... let’s just say they go for the ride of a lifetime.

18+! MINORS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!

It was a gloomy day down in the Devildom, just one of those days where tensions were high in the House of Lamentation. You were in your room, having just completed your homework so you began studying for a test coming up in the next few days. You had a good feeling you were going to ace it, so you began to organize your books and papers and stash them away in your bag.

You were tired. You had felt overworked as of late, always having work to do, or having one of the brothers drag you into one of their troubles as usual. But today? Nobody had reached out. Everyone had seemed so distant from one another. That wasn’t normal, it was always loud in the house no matter where you went. The fact that it was so quiet for once was shocking.

You finished packing up your school supplies and leaned your backpack against your desk in your room. You just wanted to relax, so you decided to ease your chest and arms comfortably onto your desk and scroll through Devilgram for a while. Looking through the brothers’ profiles always put a smile on your face, because they sometimes posted the most hilarious pictures. However, you found yourself on Mammon’s profile for the longest.

He was a model, of course he was stunning. Perfectly-tanned skin, luscious snow white locks gracing his head, the most beautiful blue eyes that almost glowed gold. You could never tell him how you really felt, he would just push you away. Plus, there was probably some model out there who was after him already anyways. Why would Mammon want to be with some weak human?

You jumped slightly as a text notification popped up on your screen.

“Dinner is ready, please make your way to the dining hall. You wouldn’t want Beel to get to your plate first,” Lucifer sent. You chuckled and began to make your way down to have dinner. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be as awkward as it was earlier that day.

You make it down to the dining hall, not a single of the brothers making eye contact with you. You froze in your tracks. You can’t lie, that hurt a little bit, you figured at least one of them might greet you.

♡

“Good to see you, Y/N. Come, take a seat. I know you have been working hard up there, you need to eat well,” Lucifer stated, a slight smile on his face. He was glad that at least one of you was focused on your studies that day.

You smiled, finally someone broke the awkward silence. “Thank you Lucifer.”

You made your way around the long table to find an open seat. Your heart fluttered as you walked your way past Mammon, smelling the arousing scent of his cologne waft past your face. You smiled and let out a low but happy sigh, and he looked up for just a second having heard you, a light blush on his face. “Y’know I don’t bite, you can come sit next to me human,” Mammon said lightly, making eye contact with you for the first time that day.

You felt a shudder run down your spine. His voice is so alluring, you could listen to it all day every day. A blush forms on your cheeks as you take a seat next to him.

Everyone around you is surprisingly in their own conversations with one another, which is pretty odd after earlier. Although, you were happy to hear the voices of all of your favorite people around the room. You couldn’t dare to complain, it was nice seeing everyone let go of the awkward tension that had previously filled the House of Lamentation. This, however, was short-lived.

You were almost done with your dinner, only a few forkfuls left, when you heard an argument start. “Oh great, here we go again,” you thought to yourself as you looked up to see Lucifer standing up behind Mammon. You didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“You worthless scumbag, what did you do with my new Ruri-chan figure?!” Levi yelled, close enough to Mammon’s face to spit on him whilst speaking.

“My new perfume went missing too, I bet it had something to do with that idiot,” Asmo shouted across the table at him, a sour glare on his face.

“Come to think of it, my new mystery novel went missing last night, I was going to read it but I couldn’t find it,” Satan added to the fire.

The twins began to spew on about how much of a moron Mammon was, him having done nothing to either of them. Lucifer began to holler at Mammon about every little thing he finds wrong when you realize that was the last straw. You weren’t going to sit there and let everyone torment the demon that meant most to you. You looked over at Mammon, trembling in his seat, trying to hold back tears as his brothers kept pushing him further and further over the edge. He looked like he could break at any second. You know for a fact he didn’t take anyone’s things, he was with you all day yesterday. It couldn’t have been him.

“KNOCK IT OFF, ALL OF YOU! BACK OFF! I THINK HE’S HAD ENOUGH ALREADY!” you shouted at the top of your lungs. The boys all froze in shock and fear, never expecting that out of you. Tears began to stream down your face. You never thought you would see the day that you would have to break up an argument, especially when the only people Mammon trusted were his brothers. Seeing them all treat him like shit made you angry and upset.

“Y/N...” Lucifer sighed and began to speak, but you weren’t going to give him the chance to continue.

“C’mon Mammon, you don’t deserve this, let’s get out of here,” you gently took hold of Mammon’s hand and dragged him away from the table towards his bedroom. The dining hall fell completely silent once again.

♡

You make it all the way to Mammon’s bedroom door when he stops you in your tracks, pulling your arm back towards him lightly. You turn around to see his cheeks burning red, the tears that formed earlier finally starting to come down his face. He looked somewhat relieved, somewhat embarrassed at the same time. He just barely lifted his head to look you in the eyes.

“You didn’t have to go and do that for me human, ya know I can’t handle m’self, right? I-I just needed to think of what t’say...” he said softly, not enough confidence in his voice for you to believe it for a second.

He was shaking, more so than when he usually gets yelled at. You gently let go of his hand and lifted your hand to cup his right cheek, brushing away his tears with your thumb. He felt so warm.

“Mammoney, I wasn’t just going to sit there and let them stomp all over you like that. They have NO evidence to prove that you took anything from them, but they kept going anyway. I’m so sick of their bullshit, watch them find all of their things that they misplaced themselves. I hope they hate themselves for treating you like that.” You loosened your hand from his cheek and tucked your body against his, arms wrapped around his warm shoulders, bringing him in for a cozy embrace.

This broke him. He leaned into your embrace, the tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into the crook of your neck. The two of you stood in a hug for at least 2 minutes straight, neither of you daring to break away. It just felt so nice, you never wanted to let go.

“Th-thank you Y/N, I’m glad you trust me enough t’know I wouldn’t steal their boring stuff. Why would I need Asmo’s perfume, let alone Satan’s book? Y’know, I-I wonder if they think before they point f-fingers like that. C’mon human, let’s get inside, I just w-wanna relax.” Mammon explains with the slightest blushy grin on his face. He opens the door to let you in first, and closes it behind him.

You had never been in Mammon’s room before, he’s never let you in before now. Your eyes scanned around the room, in awe of how cozy it was. His plush leather sofa and a mahogany wood pool table beside it, bottles of alcohol and a few grimm strewn across it. He has a projector rather than a television, two speakers beside the coffee table below it. He has an open concept closet, adorned with studio lights, and his bed pressed flush on the other side of the wall. His room has two floors, the only things up there being his entryway door... and a car? How did he get this in here? What kind of car was it? How interesting. Rather than walking down the stairs as Mammon was expecting you to do, you made your way towards his car and leaned against the hood.

“Is this your car? It’s so amazing! I can’t imagine how much money you must have put into this beauty,” you exclaimed, being somewhat an admirer of cars, having been raised by your father who’s life revolves around them. You grazed your hand over the headlights and the grill along the front, a glint in your eyes from the spotlights shining down on you and the car.

Mammon was standing next to the door, choked up to say the very least. He was blushing furiously, gripping into his lush white hair with his hand, head tilted down and giggling. “Y’mean my Demonia? It’s nothing really, Lucifer helped me get it a while back once I got my license. Pretty cool right? Of course the Great Mammon is cool!” he chuckled, barely able to keep eye contact with you. The truth was, the car meant a lot to him and it did cost a lot, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. He was too busy staring you down, lights glistening against your soft skin, looking oh-so-hot leaned up against his car like that. Little did you know you were his treasure, he admired you every second he got, whether you realized it or not. He began to walk over to you, leaning next to you on the hood, resting his hand softly against yours, interlocking fingers with you.

Needless to say, you were surprised. You jumped slightly at his touch, hesitant to move. You returned the favor regardless, locking your fingers between his, the warmth of his body flushing through your veins, instantly calming you. He means everything to you, and now this? How can you not tell him how you feel now? This was the best opportunity you could get your hands on. You let go of his hand and made your way off of the hood of the car, locked his bedroom door, dimmed his lights slightly, and made your way back over to him. You inched closer to him, barely hugging distance away.

He was looking up at you softly, still blushing. He was shaking a little bit, but you were too, of course. Now was your chance. It was now or never. Either you tell him how you feel now, or hold it in and never find out if your feelings are reciprocated. Your heart was ready to burst out of your chest, but you couldn’t hold back any longer.

♡

“Mammon, you know I care about you... more than myself sometimes, if I’m being honest. Any time I see you enter the room or my eyes meet up with you, I get tons of butterflies inside. You make me feel like I’m not just some useless human that nobody likes. You make me feel special, and I just want you to know that... I love you. I’m in love with you...” you paused, too nervous to continue.

Mammon.exe has stopped working. You... love HIM? The moron, the idiot, the scumbag? You deserve better, but he can’t deny how he really feels. His brothers aren’t anywhere around, so now’s his chance.

“I-human I... I love you too. Y’mean everything to me. I can’t stand seeing my brothers eyeing you up and taking all of my time with ya away from me. You’re MY human... my... my treasure. You deserve better than me, I’m just some lousy good-for-nothi-” he couldn’t speak anymore. You held him by his cheeks and pulled his face to yours, kissing him on his lips. The first tender moment shared between the two of you, your first kiss. He sits still for a moment before realizing what’s happening, leaning into your kiss and holding you by your waist. Your chests graze against one another as the kiss turns more passionate. Mammon slides his tongue against your lips asking for permission before you slide your tongue in between his. You felt higher than a kite at that moment, the butterflies seemingly flying out through the top of your head.

Before long, you were straddling his lap on the hood of his car, breathing into his neck as he planted kisses along your collarbone, nibbling at you and caressing your lower back. You both pulled away from each other to look into each others’ eyes.

“So this is really happening huh?” you blush and look down, feeling a tad bit shy. Mammon brings his hand up to your cheek, some of his fingers lacing into your hair. “We don’t have to do anything ya don’t wanna do, but first...” he places his hands lovingly on your hips and looks into your eyes. “I want you to be mine and only mine, ya hear? No mackin’ on my brothers or anythin’... you’re MY treasure. Well, if you’ll let me have ya...” he starts blushing too, barely able to keep his eyes on you. The words you have been waiting to hear, that you’re HIS and only his... it makes you melt. You hold onto his hips, and lean in to whisper into his ear. “Of course I’m yours, and only yours. You can have all of me if you want it, and I mean ALL of me...” you whisper and nibble on his earlobe, a smirk forming across your face.

He can’t hold back anymore. He slams his mouth against yours in the most passionate kiss, moaning against your lips and pulling you in closer, pressing you against his chest. His hands start to slip under your shirt, making their way up your bare back until he reaches about midway. He looks at you as if he’s asking permission, to which you respond by grazing your hands over his upper thighs. You lean in once again to whisper sensually, “So have you ever done it in your car?”

♡

His excitement cannot be contained, his body heats up hotter as the bulge in his pants grows harder. Without another word, Mammon scoots off of the car, grabbing you underneath your thighs and carrying you into the backseat of his car, placing you gently while he pushes the seats back and reclining them back further. The open space has grown larger. He climbs his way into the car and shuts the door behind him, hovering over you.

He doesn’t waste any time before he starts to undress you. He slips your uniform jacket off followed by your tank top, revealing your black lace bralette. You whisper in his ear “You like that? I bet you’ll like it more when you see the panties I have to match.”

You set off a fire in his chest, a low growl seeping out from his throat. He sheds his uniform jacket and tears off his undershirt, a huge ripping noise emerging, making you increasingly wet as the tension increases. His bare chest is a glorious sight to behold... so sexy and strong, so protective.

He pushes you back against the seat and makes room to slide off your uniform pants, whilst you slide your shoes off and kick them into the passenger seat beside you. He makes his way down to your feet, carefully sliding off your socks which he notices have a grimm pattern on them, and slyly smirks. His eyes scan your exposed skin from your head to your toes and back up, revving him up even more.

♡

He begins to kiss you from your feet, up your calves and your thighs, until he reaches your inner thighs. Your black lace panties meet his face, becoming more and more flushed. He slides his hands up to the waistband and toys with the lace, planting his face against the fabric. That smell... the smell of arousal... it’s so strong. He could only imagine how wet you are for him. He looks up at you and you nod, giving permission to continue.

Mammon growls and grabs your waistband with his teeth, the sound of tearing lace floods the car. You moan in response, wishing you could hear him like this all the time. Your hands reach down to your now exposed heat and stroke the lips, shining from how slick he made you. Mammon’s eyes start shining, staring down as if he’s a predator who’s just hunted down his prey. He licks his lips and flashes his teeth, slight fangs showing. You spread your lips for him and make your legs more comfortable, inviting him to take a taste.

“Mn... you’re so perfect Y/N, so wet for me, I can almost taste it,” he leans down and begins lapping his tongue at your clit. Shudders run up and down your spine from the senastion, bringing out a sensual moan from your chest, back arching. Mammon grips onto your thighs and holds them open. He drags his tongue up and down your opening, sliding it inside of you. He moans into you, admiring how you taste, your flavor. He makes his way back up to your clit, the tip of his tongue dancing around it. He looks up and you and smirks, sliding two fingers inside of you, pulsing them in and out at a steady pace, curling his fingertips from time to time. You can’t help but let out a moan, never having felt so stimulated and so turned-on before.

“M-Mammon... p-p-please... k-keep going b-baby...” you moaned out as he brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. Did you just call him your baby? Oh, he heard that. He wants to hear it again. He pulses his fingers inside you faster and faster, sucking on your clit, giving you no mercy. The heat inside of you is unbearable. You begin to buck your hips against his face and grab him by the hair, pushing him against your heat, your other hand gripping tightly against the leather seat below you,

It was taking everything Mammon had to not whip himself out and slam himself into you, but he had to make himself more comfortable. As he continued, he used his left hand to undo his pants, releasing his bulge hidden by his boxers. He was only getting harder as you moaned his name again and again.

“I’m... I’m gonna.. gaaaAAAHH!” you moaned out as you reached your orgasm, letting your grip loose from his hair as your body let go of the tension. Mammon laps his tongue down to clean up the mess you made. He gathers some on his tongue, looking up to you with his tongue sticking out, when he suddenly takes it into his mouth and swallows you.

He notices the flaming blush that adorns your cheeks. He brings himself up, sitting on your thighs, his bulge prominent. You stare down his body, glazed in sweat, realizing he lapsed into his demon form as you came down from your orgasm. His horns were shining, wings folded against his back as the car wasn’t a big enough space to let them free. You were positioned on the driver’s side back passenger’s seat, so you decided to slide into the center seat. You reach your hands to touch Mammon’s back, stroking his wings ever so gently. He moans in response, realizing he’s sensitive there. You begin to help guide them open as he leans into you. They fly open and block the whole view out of the windshield, darkening the space between you.

♡

Your hands come down to meet his waistband, tugging on it carefully. You look up into Mammon’s eyes, he can see the desire written over your face. He makes his bulge dance in response, prompting you to go for it. You drag down his boxers and out springs his length, glistening from his precum. It looks so tasty. You lean back in your seat to where you are practically laying down, gripping behind his thighs and urging him to come forward. He was on his knees, his length shadowing over your chest, his tip just barely against your lips. You hold yourself up by your elbows, turning up to him, teasing him “I bet you want your cock in my mouth, don’t you Mammon? You want to see your fragile human squirm under you, taking all of you inside of them?”

Oh, you did it now. His claws getting ever so longer as a growl comes from deep in his chest. “If you want it, show me just how badly,” your last words as he gripped your hair and pushed your mouth around his length, letting out a choke. He moaned in pleasure as he felt himself at the back of your throat, vibrations coming from you barely fitting him inside you. Mammon begins thrusting his hips back and forth, you sucking up on his length oh-so-perfectly. The smell of arousal and the sound of moans fill the car, enveloping both of you. All either of you can feel is bliss. He breaks the silence.

“Y-Y/N... y-you’re so warm, ya s-suck me off so well, k-keep going, I’m getting close-” He can’t speak anymore, feeling the surge of pleasure rush up through his thighs as you swirl your tongue around him, bringing him to the edge. You pull your mouth off of his length and put his hand around it, urging him to get himself off. “I would love if the Great Mammon would cum for me, I want to feel it all over my face, I want you to make me yours, show me who owns me,” you moan up at him, pulling down your bra to release your warm breasts, toying with them to tease him.

“Oh f-fuck, y-you’re all mine, my treasure, my b-baby, I’m.. I’m...” he groans out, and he’s pushed over the edge. He bucks forward, letting out a deep deep growl, moaning your name and climaxing all over your face and your chest, his cum hot against your skin. He looks down at you taking his load and lets out another groan, watching as you lap it up with your fingertips, eventually licking them clean.

♡

He pushes you down against the leather seats, his length rubbing against your throbbing heat, aching for you. You let out a squeal from your sensitivity, your chest arching up towards him. You reach your hands down to try to push him into you but he stops you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them down above your head. He pushes his lips firmly against yours, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Your chests are touching, he’s just about burning you with the heat radiating from his body.

He pulls away from your face and looks down to you, it looks like he wants to say something. He looks... nervous? After all of that?

“Mammon, are you okay?” you asked gently, turning your head slightly, a smile on your face. “Y-yeah, I just don’t wanna hurt ya. I tried to open ya up for me but what if it’s too much for your human body to handle?” he sighs and stares away for a moment. He loosens the grip on your wrists and you cup both of his cheeks, whispering up at him softly, “I trust you with my life, Mammon. I feel so safe with you, you’re my protector. The Great Mammon. I promise if it’s too much I’ll tell you right away. It’s okay baby.”

He nods and smiles with a blush in response, he couldn’t be happier to hear you say those words to him, as unexpected as they are.

You spread open your legs for him, situating your body in a more comfortable spot, preparing for the time of your life. You lift yourself up with your hands and whisper into his ear, “Take me for a ride, won’t you?”

♡

He growls and stretches his arms and his back, preparing himself. You want a ride? A ride is what you’re gonna get, and it’s gonna be a bumpy one.

He picks up your bottom half by your thighs, dragging you towards him, putting you in the perfect position. He takes hold of his length and lines himself up with your opening, rubbing his tip up and down your heat. You squirm under him, pleading with him in your head, dying for him to give you what you’ve only dreamed of for nearly a year now. He hears you struggling and lets out a low chuckle, a bit evil. He likes to see you all worked up for him, there’s nothing better, honestly.

He begins sliding his length inside of you, the heat from within immediately making him jolt. He can’t help the arousal from feeling you around him, squeezing him tight. You let out a small whimper and look up to him, concern suddenly written all over his face.

Your wrists had been freed a while ago so you take this opportunity to grab onto his soft bottom, pushing him further into you, moaning right in his ear. It hurts... it hurts so good. He’s so big compared to you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hits the deepest parts of you. You must have awakened something in him, the look in his eyes giving him an almost primal vibe. He leans down and whispers into your ear along with a growl “That’s a good human, take all of me inside of ya, scream my name, ‘m gonna fuck you so hard ya won’t walk for a week...”

He thrusts in and out of you at a fast pace, hitting your core over and over again. You’re both moaning and groaning into each others’ ears. Mammon grips hard onto the headrests of the seats, pounding into you like it’s his last day to live. Your hands grasping at his shoulders, you can’t help but claw your nails down, leaving red scratches all over his back. He almost hisses in response, causing you to moan out louder. He takes his right hand and brings it to your throat, silencing you. Your eyes roll back into your head once again, your back arching and your hands gripping tight against the leather seats, nearly ripping them open.

♡

His thrusts speed up, bringing you closer and closer to the biggest orgasm of your life. Mammon's hand around your throat, you try to let out a sentence, “Mammoney baby, I’m gonna c-cum for you, p-please, d-don’t hold back,” you managed to say. His face goes beat red and wings flutter behind him.

You stroke his horns atop his head, barely letting out one last sentence. “F-fill me up with your cum, m-mark your t-territory, I’m a-all yours-” your sentence is cut off as your orgasm takes over your body, Mammon releasing your throat, you proceeding to scream his name in pleasure as you gripped his length inside of you, trying to juice him.

He pounds his length into you faster and faster, bringing himself to the edge of his climax. He can’t hold back, can’t speak. He brings his head down to bite your neck, leaving teeth marks and a little bit of blood afterwards, marking you as his. He sucks on his marking and groans out loudly in pleasure, unable to contain himself any longer. You can feel his length twitch as he fills you up inside, heating the inner walls of your core, giving you the most butterflies you’ve ever had.

♡

You both look down and giggle along with deep breaths, you did a number to the seats of his car. You look at him in worry as he sees the condition of the leather. He notices that you look scared so he holds you tight to him, body-to-body warmth between you.

“I can already tell what you’re ‘bout to say, and it’s alright. Y’mean more to me than some leather seats. Now I can look at my seats ‘n remember my first time with ya, amirite?” he says with a smile, placing the most gentle of kisses on your lips, glazed with sweat.

You go to try to stand up to get out of the car but your body is beyond it’s limits. Mammon notices you struggling to get up and chuckles. “I told ya you wouldn’t be able t’walk for a while.”

♡

He pulls his boxers back on and picks you up bridal style out of the car seat, carrying you down the stairs and onto his bed gently. He remembers tearing up your underwear so he dashes to his closet, finding one of his favorite t-shirts and a pair of pajama pants and swiftly bringing them over to the bed.

“Put these on, we don’t need ya walking out with stains on your uniform and no underwear,” he explains with a giggle. He looked up at you to see you looking sad. “What’sa matter treasure?”

“Well, I was hoping... maybe... that I could stay with you for the night?” you ask, nervously waiting for a response. Mammon helps you take off your bralette and get dressed in his comfy clothes, and cups your cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Of course y’can stay with me, you’re my human! My treasure! Who wouldn’t wanna stay with the Great Mammon anyway?” he smirks and chuckles, you smacking his chest in return.

He crawls up into the bed with you, laying you next to him and pulling your back into his chest. He covers you both with his bedspread and begins rubbing your arms, resting his cheek against your ear. He had never felt this way before. He really fell for a human. Does he regret it? Not at all, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The only problem now? Now he feels like he has to protect you forever, all the time. He loves you too much to ever see you get hurt.

“S-so... does this mean... y-you’re my girlfriend?” Mammon let out shyly, almost expecting you to say something negative or reject him.

You turn back to face him, your arm around his waist. You smile up at him, “I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend... your treasure.” You plant the lightest kiss on his forehead and turn back around as he begins to spoon you again. Within the next few minutes, you fell asleep in his arms, not a care in the world, no thoughts besides the thought of being his treasure forever.

♡

The brothers felt bad about what happened earlier and were worried about Mammon’s well-being. Lucifer approached his door with the brothers, quickly realizing it’s locked. He took his master keys out of his coat pocket and unlocked Mammon’s door. He took a few steps in and froze in place. His brothers glanced with him over his shoulder to see Mammon with his arms around you, protecting you, sleeping next to you.

They all couldn’t bring themselves to make a sound. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Y/N... and Mammon?

“It’s about time he told her how he felt!” Asmo shouted as the brothers all shushed him, not wanting to wake the two of you.

“We can talk to him in the morning, let him have peace for once today. I can only imagine Y/N needs rest as well,” Lucifer explained.

Lucifer and the brothers turned around and Lucifer locked the door behind him, a cheeky smirk on his face. He was proud of his brother for finally being honest with himself and taking pride in what he wanted. Would he ever let Mammon know that? Oh, hell no.

♡

I’ve wanted to see a fic about this ever since I fell in love with Mammon and saw his room, so I wrote it!

I’m only comfortable with F!MC writing since I’ve never familiarized myself with GN!MC or M!MC. My apologies!

I do NOT give permission to post this anywhere else. I also have this posted on Wattpad, my username is daradoodlebug. If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me mammon #obey me! shall we date?#obey me smut #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #f!mc x mammon #mammon x f!mc #mammon x reader #mammon obey me #dara's devildom diaries

433 notes · View notes