#Oh god wait. What if it has eggs. There's like a few fluff things on the underside of the abdomen <- Those 'fluff' things are probs not eggs

[kissandtellus]

Hope you get well soon! Pneumonia sucks.

Maybe some little drabbles about the LADS men and unexpected pregnancy? Fluff and/or smut, your choice!

Unexpected

Synopsis: How would the LADS boys react to an unexpected pregnancy?

Warnings: Just fluff for this one! Mentions of ‘alternatives’, Sylus always hatching a plan, anxiety, mentions of pregnancy.

👣 Xavier

Xavier is staring down at the test in his hands. He has seen so many things in his hundreds of years of living, but nothing matched up to the excited, yet fearful look on your face.

He knew something was up, from the food aversions to the way you had shoved a pickle into peanut butter like it was the most delectable thing.

Xavier tries not to let the swell of tears brim in his big blue eyes. He stands slowly, approaching you. Your hands alter clasped in front of your chest, as if you were saying a prayer.

Yo hasn’t exactly been the most careful, but your lives as Hunters put a whole different fear in your mind.

“Are you upset?” You whisper. Granted, having a child means no 3 day naps for the blonde man.

He chuckles, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Never. This…” his hand presses against the still flat swell of your belly. “You two…are what I’ve been fighting for. Always.”

👣 Rafayel

“Did you get me a gift?”

“Kind of.”

Rafayel shoves his hand into the small gift bag. When his finger tips touch the plastic, he immediately thinks it may be a paintbrush. But when he pulls it out, confusion washes over his face.

It’s not for a few more seconds that it dawns on him. His hands have always been rather steady as an artist. But now, there is a very apparent tremble to his hands.

“Raf? Are you-“

He drops the bag and test and envelops you into a hug.

“I knew you smelled different.” To drive his point home, his face buried into the side of your neck and inhales.

“Raf?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“Am I gonna lay Lemurian eggs?”

👣 Zayne

Zayne tapped your chart, legs crossed as he waited for the results. Between your mood swings, the vomiting non-stop, and the way you were so tender, he knew something was up.

You both waited in his office until the timer for the test went off. You immediately snatched it up before Zayne could. When your eyes saw the two pink lines your knees nearly buckled.

Zayne was quick to wrap you in his arms, pushing his glasses up on his face as he gazed at the test.

“Well then…” he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “Are you okay? Do you…would you like to look at alternatives?”

Oh Zayne, always the caring type. If you didn’t want to child, he would set you up an appointment and take you out for dessert afterwards.

But when you shakes your head, a smile breaks across his usually stoic face.

“I love you so much.”

👣 Sylus

Surprising Sylus with an ‘unexpected’ pregnancy test was like surprising a bomb dog with a detonator.

There was a reason he hadn’t pulled out, not wore condoms for the past month.

When you came from the bathroom with shaky hands, covering your mouth, Sylus sat down the gun he was cleaning and walked over to you.

He didn’t need to look at the test, he cupped the back of your head, murmuring sweet words against your skin.

“You entered my life at just the right time.” He whisperers. His hand cups your abdomen, fingers tracing the skin with a hum. “I hope you know that now I can’t let you out of my sight.”

Mephisto gives a squawk from his perch, flapping his wings. “Or Mephisto’s, for that matter.”

You clutch at his shirt, all of your anxieties fading away.

“Now, let’s go ring shopping.”

👣 Caleb

This man is an emotional wreck.

When you surprise him with a little paper airplane with the small pregnancy test attached, he nearly falls to his knees.

Another Pipsqueak?

Had God answered his prayers?

But when he sees how nervous you look, he’s cooing you, entrapping you in his arms while he rocks you back and forth with his steps.

“Do you need anything? When’s the first appointment so I can take off. You know what, screw it. I’m taking the entire year off. I’m not missing a thing.”

His lips are on yours before you can answer.

And you feel like everything is going to be alright.

[rainbowangel110]

OH MY GOD THANKS!!!

GUYS GUYS GUYS LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON THE SIDEWALK AT MY COLLEGE

[isthlsfate]

⌞ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ⌝

‧₊˚ ❀ ༉‧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: dark shadows follow me

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: elvis presley/austin!elvis x black!reader, mentions of blood, mild language, time travel, some fluff, & VERY light horror elements

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 𖥔 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

‧₊˚ ❀ ༉‧

the blood dries on your lip like a warning.

you scrub it off in a daze, your heart thudding loudly in your ears. the mirror is back to normal—just glass and your reflection staring back, confused and afraid.

you tiptoe back into the bedroom, wincing when elvis stirs in the sheets, his bare chest rising and falling beneath the tangle of covers.

even half-asleep, he looks like something painted in warm oil and gold.

you climb into bed and curl beside him, letting his body heat calm your panic. his arm drapes over you instinctively.

you bury your face into his shoulder, press a small kiss there, and will yourself to just take things one day at a time.

you wake up a couple of hours later to the smell of bacon.

sunlight spills through the curtains, soft and golden.

somewhere downstairs, there’s a clatter—metal against metal, the shuffle of feet.

you sit up slowly and stretch, your limbs sore in the best way. then, you pad barefoot toward the kitchen, each step a little steadier.

as you get closer, you hear him.

his voice is low, a little hoarse, humming “blue moon”.

he’s in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, spatula in hand, flipping eggs like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“mornin’, honey,” he drawls, glancing over his shoulder. “you sleep like a lil’ angel.”

you smile, heart skipping.

“you cook?”

“can’t always be makin’ music. gotta feed the body sometimes, too.” he shrugs.

you perch on a stool, watching him move. he sets a plate in front of you shortly after.

you take a bite, eyes widening immediately.

“this is amazing, e.”

“i am a man of many talents,” he says, biting into toast with a grin. “you stick with me and you’ll be livin’ like a queen.”

you swallow thickly, your heart falling at the words.

if only.

*

by noon, elvis is out for a studio session. you’re left alone in graceland, pacing restlessly through its seemingly endless halls.

you need answers.

you find a phone book in elvis’s office and start flipping through it like a madwoman.

after some time, you find her: marian (l/n).

your grandmother. or… the woman who would become your grandmother.

you dial the number before you can overthink it.

a young voice answers after the third ring.

“hello?”

“hi… is this marian?”

there’s a pause.

“who’s asking?”

“it’s—uh—it’s complicated. i’m kind of… i think i’m your granddaughter,” you stutter, chewing your nails at the lack of her response. “okay, i know that sounds insane. but please, don’t hang up.”

“…where are you?”

“memphis.”

another beat of silence.

“i’ll come,” she finally says. “i’ll be there in an hour.”

you wait at a small coffee shop off union avenue, picking at a slice of lemon pie.

you’re half sure she won’t come, but then the door swings open and there she is.

young, beautiful, and around your age, maybe a few years older. she has the same eyes. same sharp chin.

she freezes when she sees you.

“oh my god,” she whispers. “you look like your mother.”

you smile, teary eyed.

“hi, grandma.”

“okay. tell me everything.”

so you do.

you talk for two hours straight.

you tell her about the mirror, the attic, the flash. the blood. the way the reflection wasn’t quite yours.

you tell her you woke up in 1960 and ran into elvis presley—the real elvis presley.

she listens without interrupting.

when you finish, she nods slowly, like she is trying very hard to process everything.

“i believe you.”

“wait. what?”

she leans in, beckoning you closer.

“that mirror? it’s been in our family for generations. it always gave me the creeps. felt like it was… watching.”

you stare, your heart pounding.

“there’s a tale,” she says. “my mama once told me it belonged to a woman who disappeared. said she stepped through it and never came back. i always thought she said that so i wouldn’t go near it and break it.”

“why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“who would believe it?” she says, sipping her coffee. “and now here you are. my granddaughter. lord.”

“you’re so young.” you can't help but say.

she smiles sadly.

“and you’re from the future. guess we’re both outta place.”

you laugh, and it feels like home.

“i don’t know how to get back,” you admit after the air falls silent again.

“we’ll figure it out,” she says firmly. “but you can’t stay here too long, i know that much. time… it’s delicate. being in the wrong era too long can do things to you. change you. hurt you.”

you nod slowly. she then grins, changing the subject.

“so, you’re sleepin’ with elvis presley?”

you choke on your coffee, sputtering into a napkin.

“i—i mean—we just—”

“sugar, if i looked like you and met him, i’d do the same damn thing.”

“you kind of do look like me,” you tease.

you both dissolve into laughter, heads pressed together over the table, the jukebox humming behind you.

when you get back to graceland, you find elvis on the back porch, wrapped in one of his more casual jackets.

“thought you ran off on me,” he murmurs, as you slide beside him on the steps.

you smile, leaning into him.

“had to meet someone.”

“oh yeah?” he teases. “you two-timin’ me already?”

“just a friend,” you lie, gently.

“good, ‘cause i’d hate to get jealous so soon.” he wraps an arm around you and tugs you closer.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“nah,” he says, brushing hair from your face. “i’m serious ‘bout you.”

your breath catches in your throat, eyes searching his for the truth.

“i don’t know what it is, darlin’. you show up like a dream and i just… i can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. you got me all turned ‘round.”

your chest tightens.

“me too.”

elvis leans in and kisses you, sweet and slow.

the real world and its troubles feel and far away.

*

you spend the next week tangled up in him.

over the span of 5 days, he takes you to the studio and lets you sit cross-legged in the booth while he sings, writes your name on napkins and draws little hearts beside it, brings you flowers, makes you grilled cheese at 2 a.m., and teaches you how to jitterbug in the living room.

“you’re a natural,” he says, holding your waist.

“you’re a good teacher,” you say, cheeks warm.

one night, he picks up his guitar and hums something new.

“wrote this thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

he plays the first verse—soft, unpolished. a love song without a name. every note burns under your skin.

you crawl into his lap and cup his face.

“it’s not everyday a girl gets to say elvis wrote a song for her. it’s enough to have me falling for you.”

“good,” he says, beaming. “’cause i’m already gone for you.”

but every night, the mirror haunts you.

the blood. the crackle. the distorted version of you staring back.

and every morning, you check.

on your eighth night at graceland, you lie in bed, elvis’s head on your stomach, his fingers strumming lazy chords on his guitar.

“i was thinkin’,” he says, “we should go to the fair. tomorrow. i could win you a teddy bear, get you some cotton candy. the whole thing.”

you lift your head. was that allowed? could it cause problems? not just with his career, but with the future.

“in public?”

“no, in private—yes, in public.” sarcasm drips from his tone as he grins.

“you really know how to romance a girl.”

“you like that sorta thing?”

“i like you.”

he sets the guitar aside and climbs up your body, eyes locked on yours.

“then you got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

you kiss him like he’s your lifeline.

later, after he’s asleep, you tiptoe to the bathroom.

just to check.

you lean into the mirror, eyeing your reflection. still nothing.

you exhale, relief flooding your senses.

you blink, about to walk away when you see it.

a trickle from your nose.

to your horror, there’s more blood.

___

꩜ taglist: @literally-just-elvis-fics @elvisslut @elvis-presleys-stuff

[leejungchans]

sprinkles and surprises : y.jh

word count | 1.6k

pairing | baker!jeonghan (svt) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) / includes | food mentions (please lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff fluff fluff, established relationship au

summary: in which jeonghan doesn’t trust anyone but himself to make your birthday cake.

a/n: happy birthday hana @soonshuas 🥺 you are so, so loved and appreciated, and i wish you nothing but the absolute best moving forward :bweep: ily very much 💗💗

Of all his years of running his own bakery, there was no order that was too big of a challenge for Jeonghan. No matter how outlandish or seemingly unachievable the request, he was always able to bring his customers’ visions to life one way or another because—well, he’s Yoon Jeonghan.

Until the time has come to make your cake.

When your boyfriend declared to you that he was going to be in charge of creating your birthday cake, you were blissfully unaware of the looming pressure he secretly held up on his shoulders. This isn’t just any cake, it’s yours. It has to be nothing short of perfection.

Knowing just how stressed Jeonghan is about such a task, his assistant baker Chan even suggested letting someone else make your cake, an idea that was shot down quicker than their industrial stand mixer could whip eggs. Jeonghan found the idea simply ridiculous, what is another highly-trained professional with years’ worth of experience going to know? He’s the one who knows what you like.

“Besides,” he grumbles in an effort to convince the younger boy, “no one else has the most important ingredient for this cake.”

Chan cocks an eyebrow at him, curious. “Which is?”

“My love.”

“Oh my God,” Chan mutters, carding a hand through his thick dark hair in disbelief, “that’s the sappiest thing I’ve heard you say in all my years working here. People are right, love does change you.”

“You mean like how you turn into a bumbling idiot whenever Bucket Hat Girl comes in to get her croissants?”

Chan freezes like a deer in headlights, mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he struggles to come up with a retort. Finally, he mumbles some lame excuse about having to go check on the muffins and disappears into the kitchen.

The victorious smile is wiped off Jeonghan’s face, however, the moment he turns back to his notepad, cakes of various designs sketched onto the pages yet not one stands out to him. They’re just simply not good enough, not good enough for his wonderful partner of many, many years who he sees himself spending the rest of his life with.

As he absentmindedly taps his pencil against the thick stack of paper, Jeonghan has to admit—he’s gotten a lot cheesier in the past few years.

And it’s all your fault.

It’s far past midnight when you find Jeonghan still sketching away at the kitchen island.

“You’re not going to bed?” you mumble, voice dipped in sleepiness as you lean against the doorframe of the hallway that leads to the rest of your apartment.

The soft light of the kitchen makes his hair glow like golden silk as he smiles apologetically. God, that smile; it’s no wonder that you have such a hard time being mad at him whenever he pulls yet another harmless prank on you, one flash of that angelic smile in your direction has you melting into a puddle on the floor, your annoyance all but forgotten even if it was feigned in the first place.

“No, not yet. But I’m almost done, promise,” he reassures.

You start making your way towards him, only to lurch into a halt when Jeonghan jolts immediately as though struck by lightning, hastily flipping his sketchbook shut and pressing his palms to the cover almost protectively. “Hey!”

“I wasn’t trying to peek!” you defend, “but I guess I’ll leave since you don’t seem to want your good-night kiss—”

“No, wait!” Jeonghan pouts, bottom lip jutting out childishly as he reaches out and makes grabby hands at you, “come back.”

Laughing softly, you gladly oblige. The sound of your slippers dragging across the floor reverberates through the quiet room while you shuffle over to him. Your body slots perfectly into Jeonghan’s outstretched arms, and a content smile stretches across your face when you feel them wrap around your midriff. Jeonghan tilts his head up to look at you and smiles, the little scrunch of his nose too endearing for your heart to possibly withstand. Your years together have done nothing but strengthen your relationship; love and Jeonghan are synonymous, there is no one without the other anymore.

You gently brush his hair away from his eyes, molten pools of chocolate that drown you in his love. “I’ll love anything you make as I have with all the cakes you’ve made me before. It’s just my birthday, you’re not selling it or anything.”

Jeonghan refutes with a shake of his head. “That’s what makes it even more special, more worthy of my dedication.”

You lean down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, hands carding through the soft strands of his hair. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“Yes, boss,” he teases with a playful glint in his eyes. He doesn’t want to let go—he’d kiss you for hours if he could—but it’s late and you have work early tomorrow, so he loosens his arms around you reluctantly until they fall at his sides. “Now go to bed.”

“Yes, boss,” you mimic, giving him one last lingering glance before padding back to your shared bedroom. Jeonghan watches you leave, your chosen sleepwear of his college sweatshirt and the tiger-print sweatpants Soonyoung gifted him as a joke causes his eyes to crinkle with equal parts of amusement and fondness.

His love for you is truly his greatest muse. Inspired, he picks up his pencil and flips his sketchbook back to the page he was previously on, the scratching of lead against paper filling the tranquil silence.

“Okay, you can look now.”

Your eyes flutter open, and a pleasant smile plays on your lips as you take in the sight—a cake in the shape of a taller cylinder coated evenly in a layer of white frosting with sprigs of rosemary and thyme decorating the equally minimalistic cake stand, as though he had plucked it right out of a professional catalogue.

“I still don’t know how you get the frosting to look so smooth,” you marvel, admiring the flawless surface of the cake from every angle, “and I see you’ve gone for a minimalistic theme this year, very classy.”

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkle. “Sort of. Why don’t you cut it open?”

The look you give him is eager and giddy as you accept the cake knife he hands you. You’re met with some resistance as you cut a slice into the cake with brows furrowed in concentration, a stunned gasp escaping you when you nudge the pieces apart to find sprinkles and chocolates of every colour imaginable cascading from the centre.

“Jeonghan, this is… wow…”

“Surprise!” he beams, “you didn’t think I’d just give you a plain white cake, did you?”

“I will admit that I’ve come to learn that you are always full of surprises.” The smile on your face falters a bit when the knife presses against something hard, and Jeonghan’s breath hitches as he watches you prod at the waterfall of candies with your fork, the excitement your delighted reaction had brought dissipating into pure nerves. Anytime now…

It doesn’t take long for you to dig out the culprit—a capsule the size of half your thumb snuggly tucked among the sprinkles. You peer at your boyfriend curiously, a silent request for some sort of elaboration, which earns you a rather stiff nod from him as he tells you, “Open it.”

So you do. You fiddle with the plastic capsule in an attempt to crack it open, eyes widening when a tiny roll of paper falls out into your palm.

Heart ramming against your rib cage, your fingers slowly unfurl the message. Despite the anxiousness and adrenaline coursing through his veins, Jeonghan’s eyes never leave you. In that moment, he wishes he was a mind reader because he’s unable to derive any other emotion from your expression other than shock. You scan the words once, then again, and again; your shaky hand accidentally lets go of one end of the paper, causing it to curl up into a roll once more. You straighten it, reading the question yet again for good measure to ensure your eyes aren’t playing some twisted trick on you.

Barely able to process everything, you finally look up at Jeonghan to find that he’s already moved to your side and on one knee. His hands are trembling as he holds up a small velvet box, the ring nestled in the cushion glints brilliantly in the light while your vision clouds with unshed tears.

“I prepared a speech I was gonna say to you now, but… I’m so nervous now that I think my mind just went blank,” he admits shyly, nerves easing a bit when your giggle reaches his ears, “I wanted this to be special, something you’d remember for the rest of your life.”

“Well, I definitely will, no doubt about it,” you choke out through your tears, “I was right—you really are full of surprises, Yoon Jeonghan.”

He smiles. There it is again, the angelic glow that follows him around wherever he goes. “Is that a ‘yes’, then?”

“You haven’t asked me properly yet,” you tease with twinkling eyes, “the paper doesn’t count.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Jeonghan laughs before clearing his throat. “Will you make me the happiest man on Earth, and marry me?”

The hushed “yes” barely leaves you before you’re pressing your lips to his, pouring all the emotions consuming you into the gesture as he reciprocates immediately. Neither of you can help smiling into the kiss as your lips mould together and move in tandem perfectly.

“I take it that this is yet another glowing review from a happy customer for me?” Jeonghan muses when the two of you part. You scoff, but are unable to mask your unbridled happiness as you rest your forehead on his.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself now. I didn’t pay for it, did it?”

a/n: hehe thank you so much for reading!!! 💗💗 feedback is greatly, greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear your thoughts 🥺 happy seungkwan & hana day hehe <3333

also to my friends please do not mention chan and bucket hat girl this is not about him this is about jeonghana 🧎🏻‍♀️

[n1k1tty]

kiss me ! part 1

jake was definitely head over heals for your cold personality, and he wasn't going to let anyone take you. but heres the problem: he couldn't find a single way to keep a conversation with you. despite your scary demeanour, jake decides to man up and does everything out of his will to get you.

fluff, jake x reader, (not proofread)

jake was frustrated to know that many guys have been after you the second you stepped in that classroom doing the bare minimum.

hearing ‘wanna grab lunch with me?’ here and there somehow always made him ball his fist to prevent himself from being a problem. yet again he couldn’t blame other people for wanting to ask you out either. he even sometimes wished that you had rejected him so he could move on. although of course he didn’t really mean that.

because now he was wandering around the school looking for you while he was on a “bathroom break” during his soccer practice. he knew you always liked to stay at the school rooftops admiring the view while listening to music. not like he was stalking you or anything...

you turn your head to look at the person at the door "you again? when are you going to leave me alone? pervert" you scoff, kicking the little pieces of rocks as you avoid jakes eyes. it was almost the millionth time you've seen jake this day, and it was always for the same reason, to piss you off, well more like ask you out --which still pisses you off.

you weren't one to believe in love, or maybe just not yet. because you weren't even sure if you were capable enough to love someone. even the thought of having to be so sweet and touchy with each other grossed you out, and of all people, jake especially knew that. so why was he so determined to get you to fall in love with him?

you weren't one to believe in love, or maybe just not yet. because you weren't even sure if you were capable enough to love someone. even the thought of having to be so sweet and touchy with each other grossed you out, and of all people, jake especially knew that. so why was he so determined to get you to fall in love with him?

"hmmm maybe never?" jake chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes "then i'll move schools --countries if that's what takes for you to leave me alone" as you turn around and face him, eyes widened at the thin space between the both of you "and maybe i'll find you"

you raise your eyebrows "well that's borderline criminal act" you wander off "now sim jaeyun i think it's best for you to leave before you add up to my anger --i mean you already are. but wouldn't that be horrible?" jake's eyes follow you as you drag your feet "not really" he states "you're hot when you're mad"

you scoff out of disbelief, hitting him hard on his arm, looking away almost immediately as you trying to hide your heated face "shut up before i'll push you off this building" letting go of the grip you once had on his collar, "alright, alright sorry ma'am. but if you're really mad for whatever reason, come with me. i'll take you to a place" he suggests, offering his hand for you to take "you should be happy. i normally wouldn't even consider letting anyone know about my spot" he shoots you a grin

you take time trying to consider his offer, but as much as you don't want to stroke his ego about convincing you to go with him, you really needed something to release your anger "as long as you shut up about this" you give him a side glance "no promises" he sends a wink your way "ugh, fine"

he gently takes your hand as he drags you out of the school "can you jump over the wall?" jake looks at your flustered face "....no..?" you answer, making a line with your lips, causing him to let out a small chuckle "okay cutie, i'll help you up" you cringe at the nickname "call me that again and i'll break your neck" you step on his knee as he tries to boost you up "yeah that's right, keep going"

but as jake looks up he couldn't help but feel flustered, looking away "i made it!" you pant, hands resting on your knees as you wait for jake to come up as well. but after a few seconds of not hearing him, you call out his name, peaking your head over the wall "jake? i swear to god if you leave me out here i'm killing you"

"n-no i didn't leave you" he stutters, trying to collect himself from being a flustered mess "then come up here! the sun is setting, you wouldn't want to miss it"

"y-yeah it's just that i uh, i saw.....your....you know?" he explains, his hands not knowing what to do "you saw my what!?" you shrieked "no no it's okay i looked away!" he reassures you "ugh, just- just come up here!" you yell, already walking ahead as you try to cool down your heating face "so pink aye?" jake jokes, catching up to you

"SIM JAEYUN!" you yell, kicking him on his ass "ow! okay sorry!"

jake was resting his head on his hands, watching as you play with the small puddle while watching the sunset, not even an hour in, jake panics as he sees the amount of missed calls from riki "oh shit! my soccer practice!"

--

the following days after that, almost everything remained the same, jake continuously teasing and flirting with you, you getting in trouble for the littlest things, never coming home until the latest of the hour. but yet again, almost everything remained the same

you were now in denial of your feelings towards sim jaeyun. it would hurt too much of your pride to actually admit it, because after all, you've always told sim jaeyun you hated him.

you groan "jake, there's a reason why i'm failing english, okay? just accept the fact that i'm the worst" you bury your head on the pages of your book, seated across jake at the back of the library "i didn't even ask for you to help me! i simply just asked for your notes that just happened to have a first grader's hand writing" he scoffs, a little taken back by your sudden insult on his hand writing "thanks? i know you didn't ask for help, i just wanted to do this with you so that you don't get detention for not knowing proper english" he explains, handing you another sheet of paper with an 54 circled on the right corner "seriously y/n? 54? come on, one last set of questions and i'll take you to the new cafe just across the street"

and almost immediately, you bring your head up, grabbing the pen and taking the set of questions. making jake giggle "y/n, just say that you like me, you know i'm not going to reject you-- ow!" you smack him on the head with the pencil "that's absolute nonsense!" you whisper with a harsh voice, digging your face on the note book as you try to cover the little smile you had on your face

i think it was safe to say you got 4 out of 10 right, causing you to almost have a mental breakdown at the library "i can't do this sim" you groan "i think you just need a break yeah? wanna head to the cafe?" jake stands up to pack your stuff, giggling at the sight of your head still buried in between the pages of the book "c'mon y/n" he kneels beside you "get up, let's go to that cafe"

you've never felt your pride hurt as much as this did, having to show jake how bad your were at english, him having to tutor you without you asking for help, and jake bringing you to the cafe even though you weren't even remotely close to getting at least 6 right

and you weren't exaggerating when when you say jake had to drag you all the way to the cafe "hi! what can i get for you today sir?" the girl says, the obvious heart eyes she has for him pissing you off even more "hi yeah i'd like to have a caramel machiatto" he responds politely, smiling at the obvious glare you held at the girl, poking out your tongue after she was called by the manager, an old lady replaces her "anything else for your girlfriend--" before you could correct her, jake immediately speaks up "she'll have (drink)"

he smiles at the old lady before paying "i'm sending you money later whether you like it or not" you roll your eyes "and i'll send it back" he holds your waist as he leads you to a table, causing your heart to beat 10 times faster "yeah? well i'll send it back to you again! i'll keep doing it until you die!" he scoffs at you "as if!"

--

even after multiple attempts of trying to make jake ask you out, the boy who you thought was so smart couldn't take a single hint at all.

but in jake's defence, you were a little bad, considering how bad you were with boys, he vividly remembers that one time when you were trying so hard to make him jealous by talking to other guys. he even laughed as you struggled to keep up with a conversation.

or that other time when you tried to hold his hand just to do something romantic just for once but ended up letting go because he wouldn't stop teasing you about it. he still took your hand, yet he never asked you out still.

"you okay darling?" your mother asks, taking a quick glance at your droopy form leaning on the counter as you wait for her to finish cooking "is it a boy?" she teases, making you perk your head up "i knew it!" she gives you an endearing smile as she gives you a plate with eggs on it, a heart shaped ketchup placed on the top of the egg "mom!" you whine

"okay fine, it is a boy. but don't tell dad" you whisper, smiling once she zips her lips "what's his name?" she asked, tilting her head as she leans on the counter in front of you "jake"

"jake?! i love jake! you should invite him over sometime" she squeals "he's a nice guy, i'm sure he wouldn't hurt you, so what's bothering you?" you sigh, taking a sip of the water "he likes me, it's like the whole world knows. but he just keeps on flirting with me and never actually tries to ask me out" you pout, aggressively taking a bit of the scrambled eggs, making your mother chuckle "oh baby, i'm sure it'll happen soon. just give him some time! unless if you're that impatient, then maybe you should try considering to be the one who makes the first move" she walks away, heading upstairs

no, as much as you hate it, that would hurt too much of your pride. so you decided to wait.

--

summer just had started and you couldn't even explain how much you hated the heat. staying under the shade 70% of the time whenever you went out with jake and his friends "guys! i have an announcement" jay yells, you were currently over at jay's house, just having a little party with just the 8 of you "my father booked us a trip to hawaii"

"WHAT?!"

part 2

— HEY 👵🏽 so i decided that this would be a multiple part story bcs i didnt want it to be too long!

i haven’t written the second part yet, but hopefully i’d have it done before tuesday

feel free to ask if you want to be tagged once the second chapter is out!

this has been n1k1tty! see ya!

[myaimistrue]

my gift for the wonderful @lotsofquestionslimitedanswers as part of the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! i hope you love this sweet bit of fluff as much as i loved writing it <3

also available on ao3

Cas has fought celestial battles. He has seen the rise and fall of human civilizations, he has razed cities and healed kings, and he has been the only thing outside of God’s control. Yet somehow, someway, he is being bested by a pan of scrambled eggs.

He lets out a string of curses he would never have even dreamed of fifteen years prior, and carefully carries the smoking pan to the trash can. He dumps as much of the blackened lump as he can unceremoniously into the trash can and sticks the pan, still coated in bits of burned eggs, back on the stove.

Cas is trying to make breakfast to bring to Dean in bed. He’s doing okay, he thinks, except now there just won’t be any eggs. Or pancakes. (Cas actually thought the batter turned out pretty nicely, but when he went to pour the first bit into the pan, his hand slipped—he spent a good twenty minutes cleaning all of that up.) At least there’s still bacon. Shit, the bacon!

Cas rips the oven open, still cursing, and just barely remembers to put an oven mitt on before he pulls the pan out. Thank God, the bacon is on just the right side of burnt, sizzling and crispy but not blackened yet. He breathes a sigh of relief, and sets the pan down carefully beside the other on the stove. Well, Dean’s always enjoyed bacon the most—if breakfast is just that, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Cas figures he can at least make some toast to go with it. Unfortunately, he forgot to buy more bread at the store yesterday, so there are only three pieces left, two of which are end pieces. He toasts them all, gnawing on a thumbnail and trying to convince himself that Dean won’t hate all of this.

Cas has only been back, free from the Empty and fully human, for a month. It’s been a good month, mostly, full of reunions and laughter and slowly but surely figuring things out. He and Dean share a bed now, share a life in a way they never did before, and it’s good. Cas is learning to be human again, and every step of the way, Dean is with him, endlessly patient and gentle with all of it, seemingly happy just to be with him at all. And Cas gets to kiss Dean when he wants, gets to hold his hand and brush his fingertips along the crinkles at the corners of Dean’s eyes, and every day, he gets to tell Dean he loves him. 

The only problem, really, is that Dean hasn’t said it back yet.

Cas knows Dean loves him. It’s clear now—it was clear from the moment he stumbled out of the Empty and into Dean’s trembling arms—and Cas understands that Dean shows it in different ways than words. He shows it in the way he sat with Cas for an hour helping him learn to tie his shoes, the way he makes PB&Js without complaint whenever Cas requests them, the way he slides his hand into Cas’s while driving and runs his thumb back and forth along Cas’s palm. Regardless of whether he says it out loud, Dean loves Cas with such ferocity that Cas sometimes worries he can’t match it. 

So Cas is doing what he can: he’s making breakfast in bed.

He arranges the limited food on an old wooden tray, along with two mugs of steaming coffee and a jar of Dean’s favorite apricot jelly that he did remember at the store. Cas studies his handiwork critically, then adds a few napkins (amidst all the change, Dean remains a very messy eater). The end result looks nice, Cas thinks. Better than he worried it might, at least.

Slowly, carefully, Cas makes his way out of the kitchen, and to the bedroom he now shares with Dean. The door is cracked from when Cas left earlier, and he can see the corner of the bed, the way Dean’s pulled all the blankets over to his side. Cas smiles at how familiar that’s become lately—it seems that with the luxury of his own bed, Dean is loath to share the covers; Cas steals them back all night long, but it works out because Dean puts up with his kicking. 

He creeps in and sets the tray down on his bedside table. Then, unable to resist, he slips back under the covers and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean stirs somewhat awake, and wiggles back into Cas with a satisfied hum. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean says sleepily. “Where’ve you been? ’S early.”

“Uh, I was…” Cas glances back at breakfast, and he thinks it looks measly now, small and poorly put together. “I made breakfast. For you to eat in bed.”

“...You made me breakfast in bed?”

“Yeah,” Cas says quietly, tucking his face in Dean’s neck, enjoying the closeness but also trying to hide his embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

“What? ‘Course it is.” Dean sounds like he’s smiling, and Cas can see it in his mind’s eye, that dreamy thing that only comes out when Dean is extremely relaxed. “It’s sweet.”

“Sweet,” Cas says, testing the way the word feels in his mouth.

“Yeah.” Dean’s still half-asleep, unfiltered and unencumbered in a way he rarely is, even now. “You’re real sweet to me, Cas. Always are.”

“Even though the breakfast isn’t good?”

“What?”

Cas sighs. “I messed up the pancakes and the eggs, and there wasn’t enough bread. It doesn’t look good like it does when you make breakfast.”

“I don’t care about that,” Dean says, a little more awake, his voice sure and strong. “I’d eat concrete if you made it for me.”

At that, Cas feels the knots in his stomach begin to unwind, feels his heartbeat slow to match Dean’s. He kisses the back of Dean’s neck, lips lingering on sleep-warm skin. Dean shifts closer.

“We’d better get up,” Dean murmurs. “Don’t want the coffee to get cold.”

“Or the bacon.”

“You made bacon?” Dean sits straight up in bed, sniffing around in the air like a bloodhound and apparently completely awake. Cas rolls his eyes and flops over into the warm spot he left behind, pulling the covers up and over himself again. “I can’t believe I didn’t smell that. Damn, Cas. You outdid yourself.”

“I don’t know about that,” Cas says. He peeks around the blankets as Dean grabs the tray and settles it over his legs eagerly. “It’s not—”

“Oh hell yeah!” Dean looks down at him with a brilliant smile that seems to make everything else around them go dim. “You got the apricot jelly stuff?”

“Yeah.” One thing Cas had done right. “I picked some up at the store the other day. I know it’s your favorite.”

Inexplicably, Dean’s ears go red. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.” Cas sits up and studies Dean’s face like he has for years. Dean’s expression is a little difficult to read, but he’s still smiling. Cas feels himself start to smile, too. “So this is okay? You like it?”

“Dude.” Dean looks at him incredulously, but it’s good-natured, fond. “You’re as bad as me. I’m telling you, this is great. I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast in bed before. And it’s…” Dean goes red again, this time all the way to the apples of his cheeks, but he continues on valiantly. “Nobody’s ever done the shit you do for me. And I’m so fucking lucky, it’s ridiculous, and I…” The hush of their bedroom seems to grow, to expand, as Dean glances at the tray then back at Cas with some huge emotion behind his eyes. “I love you.”

Cas blinks. “You—”

“I love you.” Dean says again.

“You love me,” Cas repeats breathlessly. He knew it would come eventually, he did, but this—this is worth the wait.

“I love you.” Dean laughs like he can’t quite believe it, like he’s so happy it’s ridiculous, it’s impossible. “Holy shit, there it is. I said it. I love you. You made me breakfast in bed, and I fucking love you.”

Cas surges up, unable to hold himself back any longer. He takes Dean’s face in his hands and kisses him as deeply as he can, as deeply as he’s ever wanted to. Dean is surprised at first, but meets Cas in the middle like he always does, takes what Cas gives him and then takes some more. They only separate when the tray is in danger of tipping all of their breakfast over onto the floor.

“Let’s eat first?” Dean says sheepishly. “And drink the coffee?”

Cas’s face hurts from how hard he’s smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

So they sit side-by-side in bed on top of the covers, sharing bacon and toast, sipping coffee between secret little smiles, and Cas relishes every bit of it, every human moment. He watches Dean chew, enraptured by the image he makes: the sunlight behind his head a halo, the holiness of his soft grey shirt and sleep-mussed hair, and all of it, eclipsed the golden shine of a soul Cas can no longer see but can feel—even in his humanity, he knows he can feel it. 

“I love you,” Cas says.

And when Dean says it back, his face is more beautiful than anything in heaven.

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[verascrow]

BNA: Brand New Animal Relationship Headcanons!

bna masterlist

‼ General Dating Headcanons ‼

Featuring: Shirou Ogami, Michiru Kagemori, Nazuna Hiwatashi, Marie Itami, Pinga

Warnings: spoilers for BNA!, some angst amongst all of them, but mainly tooth-rotting fluff :,)

a/n - thank you for reading!!! BNA doesn’t have enough fanfiction content, so here you go!! i actually adore doing headcanons, so this was nice to be able to write!!! BNA is also my favorite/comfort anime soooooo I couldn't NOT write something for it!!! if you want to see more BNA related works, i’m definitely going to be open to writing them in the future!!! my requests open up next week, so drop one then if you’d like!!! thank you for reading <3

content below the cut!

shirou ogami

» wolf husband!!

» oh we all know he’s gonna be nervous when it comes to love

» he’s scared he can’t trust you at first

» it’s probably gonna stay that way until he gets comfortable with you

» which, albeit, takes quite a while

» but when he does?

» he’s all over you!!

» i like to think he’s a very cuddly person

» he doesn’t show it a lot though, but for you?

» he’ll let it slide

» he’s not one for extravagant gestures though

» so if you’re going on dates

» expect it to being either at his place, or something extremely simple

» i don’t think he’d be particularly for PDA

» but if someone were to flirt with you?

» he won’t be afraid to show them that you’re with him

» again, very cuddly

» he likes to be big spoon cause he wants to make you feel safe

» but he also likes to be held

» the memories of his comrades dying is a memory that’s painfully engraved into the very fibers of his being

» so please show him some love

» kisses!!!!

» oh he LOVES to smother you with kisses

» he’s very affectionate in private

» he just loves you so much!!!

» i like to think that michiru got the two of you together

» just like

» michiru: hey look at that beastman over there! they’re super pretty!!!!

» shirou: yeah, sure

» michiru: i’m going to go say hi

» shirou: w h a t

» also, going back to trauma-

» he doesn’t like to talk about it much

» it brings up bad memories

» so he won’t outwardly talk to you about it

» but if you want to console him?

» you’re one of the few people he can really trust and get vulnerable with

» VERYYYY LOYAL PARTNER

» he loves you, and is so scared of you leaving him

» he would never think about cheating on you (the best boy)

» maybe it ties in with him being a wolf beastman-

» shhhhhhhhhhhh

» very very very nervous to tell you that he’s the silver wolf

» he’s so scared you’re going to leave him or hate him or look at him different

» but the sweet kiss you give him when he tells you melts all of his worries away

» GIVE HIM PETS!!!!!!!!!!

» he’s embarrassed but he loves it!!!!!!!!

» his love language is quality time!!!!!!

» he just wants to spend time with you

» he’ll go out of his way to blow off unimportant things (like michiru-) just to be with you

» softie-

» but we love him <3

michiru kagemori

» AHHH MY SWEET GIRL!!!!

» i love her oh so much

» if she likes you, it’s obvious

» painfully so-

» she gets all flustered before you start dating whenever she talks with you

» tripping over her words

» making a fool of herself

» (somehow more than usual-)

» but when you express you like her back?

» you’re stuck with her

» loves cutesy dates!!

» you wanna just watch a movie???

» she’s got a pillow fort and a ton of snacks at the ready

» you wanna go for a walk?

» you’re dancing with her under the stars in the park

» she’s a sucker for that kind of stuff

» she loves showing you off too

» michiru: everyone, this is my partner, y/n, and they are the best person in the world

» y/n: michiru i-

» she absolutely introduces you to everyone like that

» she loves you too much not to express it!!!

» that leads me to her love language…

» words of affirmation!!!

» she’s going to tell you she loves you at any chance she gets

» and if you’re ever insecure?

» she’s your girl

» she’s also big on physical touch

» loves holding your hand out in public

» hugging you and peppering your face with kisses

» the whole lot!

» she’s such a goofball-

» she’d do something stupid just to make you laugh

» michiru: Y/N! I GREW WINGS! AM I GOING TO LAY AN EGG OR SOMETHING???

» when she first told you she wasn’t a real beastman, she was nervous

» but it all washes away when you hold her and tell her you love her no matter what

» she’d definitely cry at that

» she’s so grateful to have you

» and she would go to any extent just to make you happy

nazuna hiwatashi

» GOD SHE’S SO PRETTY I’M NOT EVEN GONNA LIE

» she’s a very caring partner

» when you first start dating though, she’s very nervous

» will you hate her for faking the silver wolf?

» or maybe because of her slightly dismissive behavior?

» but when you decide to stay? she know’s shes in love

» her love language is touch!

» she always wants to be touching you

» she’s not the best at expressing her love or gratitude through words

» so she lets the soft caresses, forehead kisses, and cuddles do it for her!

» oh i can imagine her being a cuddle bug

» just holding you while the two of you fall asleep

» or you holding her!

» she adores just being able to be near you

» when she introduces you to michiru

» it’s chaos

» y/n: in my defense, I was left unsupervised

» nazuna: wasn't michiru with you?

» michiru: in my defense, I was also left unsupervised

» just being absolute idiots together

» back to nazuna though…

» she gets jealous easily!!!

» you can’t change my mind

» if she thinks you’re giving someone too much attention

» she won’t be afraid to just come in and hug you until you pay attention to her

» it’s adorable

» with the church of the silver wolf tho…

» you probably met AFTER that was all said and done

» she doesn’t really have followers anymore

» and a few beastman still hold a grudge against her

» she gets insecure because of it

» make sure to tell her that you love her for her

» she really needs to hear it

» oh! she loves any romantic gestures

» fancy dates? walks in the park? sign her up!

» she loves too much not to show it

marie itami

» crime weasel

» cbhmasbbchasb okay but seriously i love her

» i like to think that she’s sly with her flirting

» but if you flirt back?

» she’s a flustered mess

» she lovesssss pet names

» she particularly likes using “baby”, “love”, “sweetheart”, and “hun”

» loves if you use some back

» her love language? acts of service

» she loves to help you with small tasks

» opening the door for you? absolutely. grabbing the remote for you? of course!

» she wants you to know she loves you, but mainly in smaller gestures

» not as much of a cuddle bug as the rest, but definitely appreciates it

» she’d never turn you down for hugs or pecks

» any time she has by herself, she wants to spend it with you

» her dates aren’t extravagant though

» cuddling on the couch and watching a movie are her specialty

» i like to think that she usually falls asleep after you

» she’ll talk with you until you eventually fall asleep

» it’s more of a protective thing if anything

» she wants to make sure that you’re okay before she rests

» she loves you so so so much

» you’re the only person she’s allowed herself to be vulnerable with

» she has her own insecurities yes, but she tends to bottle them up

» she doesn’t want to bother you

» she’s better at listening and giving advice than venting it out

» it’s not your fault, she’s just not very keen to it

» she likes to keep your relationship more private than anything

» her job is… not normal, and she doesn’t want to eventually end up making the wrong people mad and get you hurt

» so PDA is kept to a minimum

» but she’ll always make up for that in private

» telling you how much she loves and appreciates you being with her

» she doubts your relationship sometimes, thinking that you deserve better

» tell her you love her

» that you really love her

» and her heart is yours

pingua

» your honor

» i love him

» oh my goodness his love language is totally gift giving

» 100%

» you cannot change my mind

» if you look at something in a store for more than 3 seconds

» expect it to be in your possession by the next day

» he won’t say he did it

» but he totally did it

» taking you on flights???

» yes pLEASE!!!!

» he loves showing you the world from his eyes

» and adores it if you love it as much as he does

» wing hugssssss

» imagine him just draping his wings around you while you guys cuddle

» my heart-

» wait, here me out-

» y/n: mcdonalds! mcdonalds! mcdonalds!

» pingua: mcdonalds! mcdonalds! mcdonalds!

» HE WOULD THOUGH AND YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND

» not afraid to get vulnerable with you

» he’ll talk about his comrades and the stupid regulations with ease

» yes, it’s a tough subject

» but you have to talk about difficult things to get through them

» he has nightmares because of it

» he wakes up in cold sweats sometimes, those images ingrained into his head

» hold him

» please

» tell him that you’re here and you’re not going anywhere

» give him kisses and help him ride it out

» aside for that, another goofball

» loves, and i mean LOVES making you smile

» also a HUGE flirt

» he’s cocky about it too

» pingua: aside from being adorable, what do you do for a living?

» y/n, dying: cjsdbivcbhshdkcjbakjcbhsadbmc

» another one who loves romantic gestures

» i like to think that he’s quite the gentleman

» restaurant dates and dancing are right up his alley

» but dear god he loves you so much

» he has no clue where he’d be without you in his life

[tartagliaxx]

congrats on 500 and happy birthday!!!

can i request tulip with xiao? 💕

“ XIAO + TULIP ”

━━ ☆ PAIRING: xiao/reader

━━ ☆ GENRE: fluff

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: tulip | perfect and deep love

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: established relationship

eerie, silent, threatening, waiting— xiao was waiting for something: a sound, a trickle of tears, a brush against the leaves, a scream. anything that would point him to you, anything that would tell that you were still breathing and alive. azure skies had given way to tar-black and starless skies and yet, you haven't come back. it was only a matter of time before the heavy clouds start wailing, blotting out the silver incandescence of the moon that would make your journey home even more perilous.

xiao had half the mind to drop down from the ledge of wangshu inn and start his search for you but what if— what if you arrive and he was gone? what if he did find you but you didn't want to see him after all that has transpired? mind weighted with all the possibilities, xiao scoffed in bitter amusement. the one time he didn't think about grudges and karma and all the burdens he had to carry across centuries was the one time he had to bear the pain of watching you storm off to god knows where with no idea of how you— and your relationship— were faring.

"xiao?" he barely sent verr goldet a glance, eyes too focused on the entrance of the inn, willing it to show your form anytime soon. "they'll be back, you know that right?"

the man in question merely scoffed, noting the missing 'soon' in that sentence. of course, you'd be back. whether you'd be back as a corpse was the question and he couldn't even stand to entertain the thought for longer than a second.

"if you're that concerned then maybe you should think of how you'll fix things? there's a merchant downstairs who's selling flowers. maybe that would help?"

"flowers?" xiao repeated, face morphed into confusion. he has seen many mortals give flowers to their loved ones but never in his life understood the reason behind it.

"i know that it's hard to... open up about your feelings but there are mediums that would help put into words the things that you couldn't. why don't you give it a shot?"

he didn't reply and verr goldet, albeit still worried for his state of mind, took it as her cue to leave him alone. would you like that? xiao wondered but ultimately, he stepped away from the ledge and began trudging into your room where you kept a few mora loose just in case he needed something. it was better than standing around, doing nothing, he decided as he tried to soften the permanent scowl he had for people that weren't you.

"good sir! come and see our new bouquets! imported from all over teyvat and as fresh as it can be! we have a discount for every two—"

he clenched his teeth out of habit. in truth, he understood not a single thing from the old merchant's rambles. he supposed that it was partly his fault for not... mingling like the other adepti he knew.

"so what would you like for today?" the old merchant paused for a few minutes, waiting for an answer that never came, before smiling. "ah... is it your first time purchasing a bouquet?"

xiao moved his gaze away from the overwhelming amount of vibrant colors and scents to the man who simply gazed at him patiently. giving him a curt nod, xiao went back to looking over the flowers. too bright, too lively, too good to be seen— he was starting to see the giving part's appeal when he found himself subconsciously comparing your jolly existence to the flowers held gently by interwoven wickers.

"then might i suggest a few?" while xiao didn't respond, the brief look of curiosity that flashed by his eyes faster than light was enough to egg him on.

"these are roses, one of the most common things to give to signify deep love and passion. oh! and these— these are hydrangeas. one of my favorites. depending on the color, its meaning could range from heartfelt emotion to apology."

he allowed the man to speak on and on. there were a few that caught his eye but none felt... right. it was a strange feeling but there was some part of him that told him 'possibly, maybe not, definitely not'. the merchant, finally noticing how long his tangent was drawing, smiled at him sheepishly before pulling out one last flower.

"tulips." yes, yes, yes, definitely that. "perfect love, elegance, happiness, apology. like every other flower, their meaning changes based on the color but generally, they're given to someone you care about a lot."

"i'll have those." xiao mumbled with very little reluctance and none of it came from his choice but rather, his inability to think of a way to present it to you.

small pearls of rain began falling when you were halfway back to wangshu inn. you hadn't intended to stay out that long but you were too lost in your mind to notice how far your feet had gotten you. now, you practically ran the remaining distance as the skies' cries began intensifying into something just an inch short from a storm.

"xiao?" you could barely utter his name when he popped up in front of you as soon as you stepped in the bridge. with a muffled squeak, he took you in his arms before leaping with relative ease to his spot that offered more shelter than where you previously were.

"take this." you blinked as a bouquet of tulips was shoved into your face. slowly taking it into your hands, you bit back the smile that was drawn out by the majestic sight of the tulips that he bought or picked or whatever for you.

you looked up to say your gratitude but your throat closed up, cheeks being set aflame as the adeptus, the seemingly infallible man who wreaked havoc on his enemies, blushed, gaze thrown off to the side, focused on anything but you who was gaping at him like a fish out of water.

"i'm sorry. i didn't... didn't mean the words i told you earlier."

you had to strain your ears to hear him, the loud pitter-patter of the rain hushing his already quiet comments but even if you didn't hear him, one look at the flowers you held carefully in your hands was enough to know what he wanted to say.

"i'm sorry too... for running off and coming home late."

you didn't hug or kiss or perform a scene out of a theatre play but his lips quirked up and that was more than enough for you. as you brought your nose closer to the bouquet that smelled vaguely close to spiced apples, xiao felt nothing but bliss. you were, in his eyes, truly a wonderful sight— even if your hair was stuck uncomfortably in your skin, even if your clothes were drenched and dripping all over the wooden boards, even when you were just existing as every other person in this world did.

xiao was broken— sometimes too stubborn and withdrawn, maybe even a little prideful and ignorant. opening up and letting someone close to his heart that has been smashed over and over again was no easy thing to do. still, he figured that he would try if it meant you'll keep coming back, safe and sound, even if he did and said the dumbest of things that he knew you'll never, ever deserve.

━━ ☆ NOTES: thank you for greeting and joining! i hope you like it!! view the rest of the event shorts here! 💐

[fukurodaze]

october

pairing: third year!tsukishima kei x third year!fem!reader genre: fluff, suggestive word count: 2.7k warnings: cursing, mentions of hickeys, makeout session hehe synopsis: “tsukishima” and “high school sweetheart” are a unique combination of words

LISTEN TO: lowkey - niki; used to you - mxmtoon

lowercase intended!

nobody knows about this.

nobody knows about his offhand banter and longing gazes. if you and kei go back exactly five months from today, you’d be asking him a question about the research assignment as you were about to leave the library and he surprisingly follows his answer up with “i’m going home too. come with?”

nobody knows him on facetime, staying late until his eyes can barely open after a blink. you’re used to his texts, somehow so much funnier and warmer than everyone seems to know him. and maybe one day he’d kissed you; on the right temple, as you fell asleep on your bed; on the back of your shoulder, when he did it subconsciously during a movie. and maybe you kissed him too; a short peck on the lips when he went home through your front door; another on his calloused and bandaged hands after a block had left it bruised. 

nobody knows that now, you’re straddling the boy you’ve known for a while as you suck his tongue until he gets breathless. his hands roam up and down your body, finding themselves under your shirt and holding onto the bare skin of your waist like he can never let go. when he tugs on the hem of your shirt, bunching it up your torso, you let him take it off, the moment away from his lips making you realise his lips are swollen and his glasses have been thrown somewhere on your bed. you freeze for a bit when he spends a little too long staring at your body, and you freeze even more when you realise you’re not wearing the bra you would’ve liked for this occasion, but you’re cut off when he starts nipping on your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he mumbles, “you don’t have to suck in your stomach.”

you relax a little, small whimpers coming out of your mouth as he continues to work on your neck, the little shocks of pleasure filling your senses as hands on bare skin start to feel more familiar than foreign. you could get used to this. 

“wait, don’t leave any, uh, marks or hickeys or whatever,” you breathe, “people might see.”

he hums, and yet his grip on you tightens as you think he’s coming back to your lips, but he doesn’t. he just stops there, face inches away as his lips barely ghost yours. he purses his lips for a second, like he’s thinking of something to say, but the microwave makes its strange appearance when it beeps loud enough to make you jump a little in his lap. he still holds you close. 

so, so close. and nobody else knows.

“i’ll get the popcorn.” right, because tonight you had planned to watch a movie with him. like the usual - talk, cuddle, whatever. 

come to think of it, your relationship with kei sounds weird; feelings so well understood without ever being spoken. you liked it at first, when he told you he liked you on a saturday morning, your reciprocated feelings tasting of warm rice and milky eggs and an unspoken convention that this stayed between you two and you two only. but as the days passed, and the thrill of a secret relationship wore off, you’ve started to wonder how it would feel like to be able to show people that, yes, tsukishima kei is your boyfriend, and yes, you like him very much.

when you take your shirt, he says, “wear my hoodie. it’s cold.”

you grin when you hear that, opting to simply wear his hoodie without a shirt underneath. it’s the same black hoodie he wears literally all the time and probably doesn’t wash regularly (which is gross) but if there’s one thing you learned about these feelings is that you couldn’t care less.

when you pick up the popcorn, kei only lays against the headboard of your bed, feeling slightly empty at the words he’d heard from you. serves him right, he thinks as he picks his glasses back up; this relationship, or whatever it is, isn’t something both of you wanted everyone to know. he’d get sick of all the attention, and there was probably no need for the two of you to share everything. it’s high school anyways, who knows how long it’s going to last.

yet, when you come back into his room, lips soft and hair tousled, holding a bowl of fragrant popcorn, kei finds himself letting go of those thoughts.

you take a seat on the floor against your bed frame, already having set up the laptop in the middle of the floor. you motion to the boy on the bed to come down, and he brings your entire duvet with him.

as he settles next to you, your shoulder touching his upper arm, you set the popcorn in the space where your knee meets his thigh, over the blanket. the movie you two had decided on earlier tonight starts playing, and you feel your head slide into the crook of kei’s neck, like it always does. 

the night starts off slow; just the two of you making remarks at the movie, laughing at plot holes and cliches. then, by halfway, the bowl of popcorn is empty; as the protagonist kisses their love interest, you feel a flush up your cheeks; and as the movie ends, kei’s arm is around your waist, pulling you into his side. it’s a pretty shitty movie.

“well, that was a shitty movie.” 

“agreed,” you grunt as you stand up to place the bowl of popcorn on your desk, to be taken out at a later time. you fold your laptop onto your desk as well, and kei gets the cue to sprawl your duvet back onto your bed. it’s only nine pm. you climb back in your bed, motioning for him to come with you, too.

slowly, his tall figure holds yours in an embrace filled with something you could only identify as care and affection. and here, especially with his glasses off, sight blurry and only really being able to see you in full focus, it makes you grin at how strikingly different he can be in your room and at school. not that you had ever seen him at school very often, as most of your relationship was crafted of video calls and secret little dates in the night. 

you wonder if he’ll grow out of this.

“oh my god, something kind of funny happened today after the english exam,” you chuckle, your head resting comfortably on kei’s chest. he lets out a questioning hum.

“the girls in my class thought i was seeing osawa,” you stifle a laugh, “at me they were like, you’re definitely dating a guy from the basketball club.”

“wait, how’d they know you were dating someone?”

“word got out. they asked for details, and i told them he was in a sports club.”

“they didn’t think about the volleyball club?”

you shake your head, “they did, but they literally went - ‘we know it can’t be kageyama or tsukishima, so, yamaguchi?’” kei snickers at those words, remembering that even the boys in the volleyball club don’t know about you.

“i love how they just glossed over the chances of you with either me or kageyama,” kei tsks, “and who’s osawa?”

you roll your eyes, hearing his voice tinted with a bit of jealousy when he hears other people think you’d go better with this random guy at school. “he’s a guy i partnered up with for biology. why?”

“nothing. just good to know.”

“alright, whatever.” you flip over, your chin now pressing on the backs of your hands on his chest. your grin is wide. 

“your hoodie smells like sweat,” kei says, trying to divert the topic away from your eventual accusations of jealousy.

“it’s your hoodie, asshole!” you jokingly exclaim, and he pulls the hood up to your head. you look cute, he thinks, even with his over-worn hoodie and messy hair. it’s in moments like these, when the both of you let go of the fronts you put up at school, and just live like nobody else exists. of course, it will all be over in a few hours, but that’s not to say he doesn’t secretly text you under the desk during class or that you don’t have the liberty of an extra pack of chips in your locker from the early mornings kei has practice.

“okay, but, hoodie aside, you could’ve just said i was your boyfriend.”

you like the sound of it; something so distant yet so close. so you make him repeat it again, “wait, what did you say?”

kei exhales through his mouth, “you could’ve just said i was your boyfriend.”

“would you like a boyfriend badge with that?” you tease.

“shut up. at least it sounds better than you and osawa,” he mumbles, sitting up, leaning on his arms. “not that anyone would ever know about us.”

your arms wrap around your boyfriend’s neck. his eyes stare straight into yours, and though he still feels uneasy at first, he likes the feeling of you so near him, so warm and fluttery in his stomach. it makes you hope, at least, in the way he’s looking at you, that he might want to show you off more than he lets on. 

“you know, kei, it wouldn’t hurt for some people to know about us,” you mutter, almost a whisper, and he catches your words perfectly.

“but i hate how everyone shits on couples all the time.”

“no, you just shit on couples all the time.”

he sighs defeatedly, “okay, but everyone’s just gonna be annoying when they know. like they’re shoving their noses into our business.”

“yeah, but-”

“on top of that, my mom would constantly nag me about the details of our relationship. i don’t need everyone knowing so much about us.”

you fall silent, running out of things to say. admittedly, the way he’s so quick to shut down all your reasons is getting to you.

“see? there’s no point in other people knowing.” kei’s hands run under your hoodie to caress your bare skin. he likes the way you shiver slightly from the sudden coolness of his fingers, but it does give you an idea.

“i’ll let you leave marks under my school blouse.”

“as hot as that is, no.”

you groan, slouching against his larger frame. you shift your weight onto him, making him fall back on the bed, and you settle with lying beside him. kei, like the reluctant cuddle bug you’ve found him out to be, immediately wraps an arm around your torso, like every second spent at your house that doesn’t involve his limbs intertwined with yours is a second wasted. 

you exhale through your mouth, “kei, i just wanted to be proud.”

his grip tightens.

“like, we don’t have to tell everyone what happens between us every single day, but, god damn, i don’t want to keep sneaking you in like this, or having to send you off at like, four in the morning so nobody knows you were here.”

“do you care more about what other people think than how i feel?” now you’re letting it out. you realise you’re frustrated - so fucking frustrated - that you barely even get to see him every week because of school and clubs, and that you don’t even get to save his contact on your phone under his own name in fear that people might find out. all because nobody knows.

“no, i care about-”

“i want to hold your hand in public, kei. is that too much to ask?”

you take a deep breath, sitting up against the headboard, “my friends think i bail on them all the time. i want to tell them it’s because i’m going to see my boyfriend instead of some lame excuse, kei. and i want to cheer you on at the spring high nationals in january, because you talk to me about volleyball so much and i want to see my boyfriend do what he’s been working so hard for.”

there’s a hanging silence in the air, coupled with the whirring of your heater. you can’t make eye contact with him - what if he gets mad? your fingers fiddle with the string of his hoodie, knotting it and untying the knot. and it’s only then that he sees you, gaze unsure and lips pursed, that he knows what to do.

it’s not so bad, kei thinks. he wouldn’t have to save your number under a name that’s not exactly yours, and he wouldn’t have to always rush to leave because he has “something coming up”. he can walk you to class in the mornings when you arrive after his morning practices, and it’s like he can imagine the way he’ll hold your hand and make sure everyone knows you’re with him. his train of thought might have gone a bit too far, but he can’t deny the thought of wanting to show you off as his. hell, he’s had a crush on you since your second year (though he’ll never tell you or anyone), and now that he’s got the girl, he might as well be proud of it, too.

so he comes up and kisses you. chastely. “okay.”

you give him a flick to his shoulder, earning an ‘ow’ from him. “that’s it? okay?”

“you said i could leave marks as long as it’s gonna be covered by your blouse, right?”

another finger flick, to his forehead this time, “you asshole.” but you smile. you know him.

when you pull his lips to yours, this time, he makes sure to keep you busy with his hands around your body and your hands in his hair, shirts and hoodies being pulled up to eventually be taken off. suddenly, he stops, and it’s only then that you hear something that you’ve only barely heard once before, on a warm saturday morning when it was summer, months away from today’s october.

“i really, really like you, y/n. and i’m not afraid of that.”

as he cradles you in his touch, kisses trailing down your jaw and beginning at your collarbone, you make sure to ask if he’s okay with reusing the same uniform he wore today for tomorrow. his answer slips out easily; yes.

“is it always this cold in the mornings when you practice?” you tighten the scarf around your neck, shoving your hands into your coat. kei hums in response as you two near the gym.

“to be fair, you could’ve worn tights. doesn’t help when you’re basically half naked in the winter.”

“wearing a skirt does not mean i’m half-naked, kei.” you scoff, but you do take a mental note to start dressing warmer for the coming seasons. 

“i’m just saying, the wind can just go up your skirt-”

his sentence is cut short when a louder, higher-pitched voice runs through.

“woah! tsukishima’s with a girl?” you recognise it as one of the kids in class 3-2, hinata shoyo. his orange hair isn’t exactly easy to miss. behind him is the boy you recognise as kageyama tobio, remembering the way kei would sometimes slip in a snarky mention of his name on the nights he’d call you from his training camp in tokyo. you introduce yourself to the two boys.

“why is that such a surprise to you?” kei points out sharply. a number of second and first years pass by the three of you, and they exchange casual good mornings.

“i think i’ve seen you around. are you friends with kana-san?” hinata names one of the girls in your class, and you nod, telling him you’re pretty close to her. 

"are you going to be watching us practice?” hinata asks, and as you look frantically between kei and hinata, you tell him, “yeah, is that okay for you guys?” kageyama and hinata nod.

you don’t miss it when kei takes your hand and intertwines your fingers with his. it makes you feel a little warmer in chilly weather. it makes you smile.

“go ask team captain over there,” kei shrugs, cocking his head at yamaguchi, who currently has a content smile on his face.

“so this is your girlfriend!” 

you immediately snap your head at kei, as if silently telling him no fair, how come yamaguchi knew all along?! kei shrugs, “he saw me going to your locker one day.”

you roll your eyes before introducing yourself the same way you did to hinata and kageyama, and you hear kageyama huff out, “she looks too nice for you.”

kei scoffs, “well, that’s rich coming from you. maybe you’re forgetting how-”

“alright, tsukki, let’s just go up to the clubroom first.” yamaguchi thankfully cuts in, letting hinata and kageyama go to the gym first.

“oh, y/n-san, you can go to the gym first, too, since we’re going to be changing in the clubroom. we don’t want you to wait outside, after all.” yamaguchi adds, and as you let go of kei’s hand with a reassuring smile, hinata takes it upon himself to make even more conversation with you on the way to the gym. you find his and kageyama’s company entertaining.

“if he’s you’re boyfriend, does he, like, insult you all the time?” kageyama blurts out, his words making you break into smiles.

you giggle, swatting your hands, saying no, no. it makes you realise how different he really is when he isn’t with you.

your hand wanders to the uniform bow around your collar, and you play with the ends of it, the area of your body reminding you of the hickeys you saw littered around your chest and collarbone this morning. when you told kei about it, he only shrugged with the most smug face you’ve ever seen. thank god for collared uniforms.

“so, y/n-san, how’s tsukishima as a boyfriend?” hinata chimes in.

you catch your lip in between your teeth, sucking in a soft inhale. you wonder if you could tell them that he’s the guy that buys you your favourite snacks on the way back from volleyball practice, or that he puts all your favourite songs into his daily playlist so that he can sing along with you when he comes over. still, even after the news about your relationship, you think there’s no harm in keeping some things private. so you exhale.

“he’s an asshole,” you laugh, gleeful, “such an asshole.”

[luvdsc]

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged. 

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play. 

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode. 

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold. 

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you. 

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 14.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Heart Tugging Yoongi, Crying, Emotional

A/N: This chapter is early because I’ll forget to post at 5 like an idiot :) shoutout to the squad @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna this chapter is goooood!

You have ascertained at this point that although Yoongi is incredibly fit -- he's never done heavy lifting in his life.

You watch him continuously mumbling to himself while carrying things over to the wooden porch, stopping himself whenever your father passes with something in his arms to show a tired smile.

It's kind of hilarious.

"Well! That's it!" you dad says, clapping his hands together happily. He stands on the porch, a smile etching onto his features as he looks at you.

Yoongi sighs happily beside Minho, feeling proud of himself that he's actually done something on his own for once.

"Will that be all, Sir?" Minho asks, his voice filled with amusement.

The CEO grimaces at him. "That'll be all. Be back here in two days with a new set of shoes for me and an Irish coffee."

Minho nods bowing to the both of you before climbing back into the car.

"Your mother is making bean paste in the back," your dad notifies you as he kicks off his sneakers.

You hum sweetly, walking up the steps to take off your own shoes.

Yoongi puts his hands on his hips, looking at the hanok with curious eyes.

"Here goes nothing," he mumbles, following after you.

"You didn't have to get us anything, you know," your father tells him. Helping him push all of the gifts into the house.

"It's my pleasure," Yoongi breathes out.

Your father turns to your boyfriend, holding up the Japanese whisky and winking at him. "It's a nice gesture though. I'll drink this well… by the end of the night." he whispers conspiratorially to him.

Yoongi finds himself smiling, chuckling to himself.

You're a lot like your father it seems. He likes that.

Stepping into the hanok, Yoongi feels like he's in a museum. Which, he can't help but kind of love. Everything seems so olden but perfectly taken care of.

"We do have a bathroom and beds, luckily for you." your dad jeers.

When you step inside, you feel so at home. Nothing has changed at all and it's so perfect.

"Wait for it," your dad tells your boyfriend, putting the gift baskets on the wooden table.

"MY GAESU!" you scream happily.

Yoongi jumps at your loud voice, eyes widening. He's never heard you screech so loudly.

A small corgi runs out to greet you, tongue sticking out with excited heavy breathing.

He watches you bend down, pulling the dog into your arms.

"Be careful," he admonishes you sweetly, watching you rock the dog in your arms.

Your father watches how concerned Yoongi is for you, how he presses his hand to the small of your back for support and he smirks at the sight.

"Whisky, Yoongi?"

"That'd be great, thank you Sir." he replies kindly, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Call me Dad," your father says with a wink.

The sentence sends Yoongi frozen. He's never heard such a gentle tone from a father figure before. He's only ever been used to tones of disappointment or anger.

"Alright," he whispers, grabbing the glass with a tentative hand.

You smile at the sight before you, Gaesu constantly licking your cheek to show how much he's missed you.

You know that Yoongi is going to love your parents, it'll just take a while to settle in.

"I heard the infamous scream," you hear from the back door.

Your heart warms at the sight of your mother.

"Mom," you whisper, taking in how happy she looks.

For the first time in a long time, she looks healthy.

"I missed you!" your mother whines, opening her arms to hug you.

"I missed you too!" you reply, hooking your chin over her shoulder.

The CEO can see how fond you are of your family. He hopes it'll be the same for this small family you're making of your own now.

"This is Min Yoongi, my boyfriend," you say, pulling away and nodding to the handsome man.

Your mother's smile seems to widen at the sight of him. "Oh, wow. You're so much more handsome in real life than on my t.v., as if that's possible." she breathes out, her cheeks starting to blush.

"It's nice to meet you," he laughs, bowing to her.

She bows back before sighing. "I'm a hugger!"

He hugs her awkwardly as she pats his back. You giggle at the warm sight before you, you know this must be so strange to him.

"You are the culprit that got my daughter pregnant?" your mother teases, sending him flinching.

He chuckles awkwardly, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "Guilty." he whispers.

"Well thank God, I thought I'd never have a grandchild," she says, slapping his shoulder.

"Okay, mom." you mumble, rolling your eyes at her dramatics.

"This baby is going to be cuter than a button!" she promises, pointing between the both of you.

Yoongi finds himself filling up with warmth, chuckling as your father rolls his eyes to him.

"Why don't you both get unpacked? And then we can start to make dinner," your mother suggests.

"Yoongi's never cooked before," you tell her, going to pick up your luggage.

The CEO groans gently as you all giggle. This is what family must be like. Joking and loving towards one another. He finds it akin to how him and Maya act sometimes.

"Don't even think about it," he tells you, watching you grip the handle.

"I can pick something up," you whisper as he narrows his eyes.

"So can I. Show me where the room is, little dove." he instructs, grabbing the luggage.

Rolling your eyes, you shrug to your parents as they give affectionate smiles.

"My room and the guest room?" you ask your mother, watching her hug your fathers side.

"Just your room. You're already pregnant, what else could happen?" she replies.

Yoongi's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he picks up your luggage. But, he's content with knowing that he can sleep with you for the next two nights.

He finds himself already fond of this wooden and paper house. And maybe even warming up to the people in it.

"Just through here," you tell the CEO, picking up Gaesu.

"I didn't know you have a dog," Yoongi says, stepping into your old bedroom.

"Leena's allergic so I left Gaesu home," you reply.

He hums understanding before yelping out as he looks around your room.

"What?!" you whine, putting your hand over your heart.

"THERE'S A CHICKEN ON THE BED!" he yells, dropping the luggage to the floor.

You can hear your dad laugh loudly from the kitchen and you snort loudly, stepping into the room and sliding the door shut.

The chicken takes one look at Gaesu before jumping off the bed and scurrying around the room.

Yoongi gasps loudly, jumping onto the bed with fright written all over his face.

"Catch it!" he cries out, shoving his hands in his hair.

"Relax, it's just Miguk." you say with a laugh.

"Why is there a fucking chicken in your bedroom?!" your boyfriend whines.

"Because we keep chickens for eggs? And Miguk probably wanted to be some place warm?" you ask confused, setting down your dog and opening up the bedroom door for Gaesu to chase Miguk out.

"So you don't have a heat lamp or some… warm place for a chicken to stay? Do I have to buy one for you?!" he asks, smacking the bed to get rid of a few feathers.

"It's just a chicken, you'll be eating one in like two hours," you say laughing loudly as the animals finally leave your room.

"It's disgusting. I need to change the sheets," he whispers, clearly grossed out.

"You know the walls are paper and wood?" you mouth to him, shutting the door.

"I shouldn't have to scream about a fucking chicken laying in the bed I'm sleeping in tonight," he mouths back, flailing his arms.

"Everything okay?" your mother sings from the kitchen.

"Yes!" you both reply at the same time.

The CEO finds it hard to not stare at where the chicken was standing just seconds ago.

"Come on, Yoongi. It's okay," you say, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"I don't think you understand that I'm fucking traumatized," he whispers fiercely, watching as a shadow of a chicken walks by the paper door.

"Do you need me to hold you?" you ask, sounding as if you're speaking to a small child.

He grimaces at you, folding his arms.

"No! I just don't understand how this is normal behavior," he retorts softly.

"Welcome to my home," you whisper, booping him on the nose.

He swats at your hand childishly, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

"I like your parents," he mumbles softly as you place both of the luggages on the bed.

"See, I told you. They're nice," you reply happily.

"You need to promise me that I won't wake up in the middle of the night to a chicken trying to poke my eye out with their beak. Do your parents feed them properly? Are they on a mission to assault guests?" he whispers fiercely, grabbing your hands.

"You're an insane person. You're actually fucking crazy," you whisper back, kissing the top of his head.

"What's crazy is that there was a fucking chicken in your childhood bed," he says appalled, appreciating the warmth of your lips on his skin.

"If I'm not worried about it, you shouldn't be worried about it," you say with a smile, grabbing your change of sweatpants.

"That's what they said about Pompeii and a fucking volcano erupted!" he barks out in a fierce whisper.

You find yourself giggling, combing your fingers through his hair. Almost immediately he feels himself relaxing.

After washing up and putting on comfortable clothes as well as insisting to your boyfriend a multitude of times that no farm animals would kill him in his sleep, you were ready for dinner.

Or, ready to make dinner anyway.

When Yoongi was younger, he used to watch Maya cook for him. His parents were never really home, it was just him, Maya and her daughter Myeyoung.

He has no real skills besides making money and playing poker.

Stepping back out into the hallway, he's surprised to witness such paternal affection.

Even from the short distance he can see how much love your father has for your mother as he cuts up an apple for her.

Would he ever get this? Would you be like this to him?

"My Gaesu-ah!" you call sweetly, slamming the paper door shut.

Yoongi takes this in also, how affectionate you are to an animal.

His father had hunting dogs that slept in cages outside of their home in hopes that they would feel less attached to humans.

There was once a time where his father bought him an expensive bird for hunting. He ordered Yoongi to train it. Being only six years old and without love, the CEO named the bird and praised it whenever it did well with orders.

He remembers showing his father, so excited that the bird did his bidding. But, Min Sangcheol was angry when he saw the bird catering to Yoongi's every whim.

"You made this bird adore you, that's why it does what you ask of it, you've ruined the fucking animal."

And his father broke both of the bird's legs.

"Yoongi?" you whisper softly, watching how entranced he is with your dog.

Looking up quickly, he gives you a sad smile and your heart tugs with uncertainty.

"Are you okay?" you ask, earning a gentle squeeze on your side from him.

"Come on," he whispers, pushing some hair back behind your ear.

Hearing your footsteps, your parents smile at the both of you.

"Yoongi, you didn't have to buy us such things!" your mother chides him, gently smacking his arm as she holds her new Chanel purse to her chest.

"I wanted too, it looks made just for you," he compliments, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.

In all actuality, it looks just perfect for her. With a gentle giggle, you can tell how absolutely smitten your mother is with him already.

"The tie you got me is perfect, I'll just have nowhere to wear it," your dad jeers to the CEO.

Yoongi chuckles, picking up his forgotten whisky glass and taking a sip out of eyesight from your parents.

"Very good manners," your mother whispers to you.

Humming, you can only agree. "He took etiquette classes when he was younger." you inform them.

"You should show Y/N's father a thing or two about etiquette."

Your father rolls his eyes, grabbing a wicker basket from near the sink.

"To the chickens, my love," you dad says, shooing you out the back of the house.

"Do you like dak galbi?" your mother asks, putting the gift baskets in the living room.

Yoongi watches you leave, his blanket of comfort gone from his sight. His left hand wraps around his right arm, feeling his usual comfort drift away. "Yes, Ma'am."

He feels awkward. He looks awkward as he stands beside the kitchen counter, watching as your mother begins to prepare ingredients.

The older woman can see how forlorn he looks, how completely out of his element he is and she can understand why you care for him like you do. He's broken.

"Come," she says, pointing to the seat across the counter.

He gives her a nervous smirk, sitting down in the seat she was just in.

"Have you ever peeled a potato?" she inquires softly.

With a small smile, he shakes his head. Black pieces of hair fall into his eyes and he goes frozen as your mother pushes them back just like you do.

"Well you're going to peel potatoes today," she tells him with a smile.

When she smiles, her face contorts quite like yours. And, suddenly he feels okay even for a little while.

Setting a bowl full of potatoes down in front of him, she hands him a peeler.

"We'll make you a chef yet, Min Yoongi," she winks.

Chuckling at her words, he begins to peel. It's clumsy and he loses the potato a few times from how wet it is, but he gets the hang of it after a few minutes.

"One time, when Y/N was younger she went on a potato ban. No french fries, no potato pancakes, no potato chips," your mother laughs at the memory, earning soft eyes from your boyfriend, "she was so adamant that she hated them for a good week or two. Then one night, I woke up in the middle of the night to crying. I went to check on her and she woke up telling me that she missed potatoes so much that it gave her nightmares."

Yoongi laughs along with your mother, shaking his head.

"I hope our baby comes out like her," he whispers hopefully.

In that moment, he realized just how comfortable he had gotten so quickly. It's easy to open up when you're welcomed. His instant reaction is to close himself off again but your mother catches it before he does. Not even giving him a chance to close himself off.

"You have a lot of good traits, Yoongi," your mother praises, beginning to cut peppers.

He hums unsurely, focusing on the task at hand.

"She's going to be a great parent, I'm not sure if I will be," he replies softly, he's so quiet if your mother wasn't paying attention she wouldn't have heard him.

"Why do you think that?" your mother asks and his eyes shoot straight up to hers.

In her eyes is softness and kindness that he sees in you on the daily.

In his eyes is worry and unsureness and your mother croons softly, petting his head maternally to give him some comfort.

He freezes at her gentleness but it reminds him so much of Maya that he feels his heart warm.

"Well my parents weren't very warm with me so I'm very cold with everything I do. Y/N isn't like that. She's understanding and always kind. She has patience and I lack that in spades." he whispers, washing some dirt off a potato.

Your mother hums. "Were your parents mean to you?"

He clears his throat, grabbing the whisky glass and turning away from her as he takes a huge gulp. "Yes Ma'am," he replies through gritted teeth, the alcohol warming his pallet.

"Well, let me tell you something about parents," she whispers across the counter, situating herself on her elbows, "some people aren't meant to be parents. They didn't have that affection when they were young and they don't know how to offer any to children as they get older and need to be cared for. My parents really shouldn't have had me, my father was cruel and my mother was obsessed with soju. I was a very mean, bitter child but as I grew up -- I came to realize that cycles must be broken in order for people to grow. Sure, I could have stayed mean and angry but that just leaves your heart black and broken. It's up to whomever feels this way to try and strive for a new path."

Yoongi takes in all her words, staring at her as she stares back.

Such wisdom. It's heartwarming and jarring.

"I see," he murmurs.

"Now, you're going to be a father. You should break that cycle, hmm?" she asks, picking her knife back up.

He nods thoughtfully. Just the way your mother speaks, it seems like she's lived a thousand lives. It feels as if she knows a part of his soul he couldn't begin to understand.

"You don't know how to be a father. Y/N doesn't know how to be a mother but you'll make that work. Because in actuality, you both care. You both want what's best for your child and you, sooner or later, will understand that they're the most important thing in your life. Not bitterness or hatred. Some people don't see that, but you will Yoongi." she says, throwing the peppers into a bowl.

"H-How do you know?" he stutters, gripping the potato in hand tighter.

"Because I see how you look at Y/N when she isn't looking at you. Like she makes the sun rise in the morning because she's willed it to be so." she says offhandedly, grabbing some green onions.

He whistles long and low at her wiseness, letting the potato fall from his hand to grab his whisky glass.

"I'm very grateful for how you raised her, she's wonderful. So thoughtful and caring… So completely different than anyone I've ever known before. She…" he finds himself saying, just letting his emotions fly out.

"She's bringing you inner peace and happiness." your mother says, looking up from the cutting board.

"Yes." he breathes out.

"And that's scary." she comments, wiping her hands on her apron.

Swallowing thickly, Yoongi turns to the open back door. Watching you gather eggs with your father. He can see your smile from so far away and his throat tightens at the sight.

"Y-Yes," he mutters.

"Y'know. The best thing about being frightened is knowing how at ease your heart will be when that's over." he turns back to your mother as she rounds the counter.

When she goes to hug him, he doesn't flinch this time.

"Your parents may have been mean to you, Min Yoongi. But, that doesn't define you. It shouldn't define you. If you need maternal affection, you can turn to me. I'm plenty of a mother for you and Y/N," she puts her hand over her heart, smiling down at him. He can feel his eyes beginning to burn and he apologizes as he bows his head.

"You don't need to be alone Yoongi, we're a family here and you're very welcome in ours," your mom whispers, cupping his face to raise it.

"Oh fuck," he cries gently, putting a shaky hand to his eyes.

He's never heard such earnest words like this from a parent and it brings him such relief that it makes his body wrack with sobs.

"All you've ever wanted was to be loved and be happy, I'm sure. We can do that for you, if you want that," she whispers, hugging him tightly.

His mouth opens, a small strangled groan leaving his lips as he cries louder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Clicking her teeth, your mother rubs his back. "You never have to apologize for being emotional."

"Everyone can pretend to be strong, Yoongi. It takes a real person to admit how emotional and hurt they are."

Biting his bottom lip to quiet his sobs, he buries his face into your mother's arm as she holds him tightly.

He's never been held like this. Maya never held him like this because she worked for him. She's never spoken so straight with him before. She's loved him and he knows that, that's why he loves her too.

But she's never seen into his soul like this. She's never sat him down and spoke the words he needed to hear, even if it made him break down. But, your mother has.

Your mother has given him something that he's never had. And, he wants it more as he holds her.

He wants that maternal affection.

He wants to be a part of your family.

He wants to be loved.

He wants to be cared for.

And it hits him like a truck when he thinks of you.

You can give him all of these things. You can make him into the one person he never thought would see the light of day. He never thought he could even be that type of person.

But from a distance, he can hear you laughing with your father and he cries harder.

He wants it with you.

He wants you to care for him.

He wants you to love him.

He wants you to be his family.

"Oh my God," he whispers, pulling away from your mother and wiping his face on his t-shirt.

"You will call me Mom from now on," she says, booping his nose.

With a small smile, he nods. He turns to the open paper door once more, watching as you smile and laugh with your father.

He wants this family with you.

"So," your father says, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"So!" you reply with a laugh, hugging him tightly.

Nearing the chicken coop, you can hear clucks of excitement as the chickens wait for their food.

Stepping out of the way, you let your father feed the chickens seeing as how you haven't done it in so long. It's for expediency.

"I like him," your father approves.

You smile gently, gathering egg after egg and placing them in the basket.

"He's a little rough around the edges but he's a good man." you insist.

Your father wipes his hands on his pants, getting rid of the small flecks of feed that linger on his palms. "You know, he looks at you like you're the most important thing in his life."

Snorting gently, you lean against the chicken coop. Your gaze fixes on the sky watching as pastel shades bleed into one another. But, you focus on the orange that mixes with a hazy salmon.

"His problem is -- he doesn't know what's most important in his life. He doesn't know how to live normally. He doesn't know regular emotions and that scares him," you announce, tracing a cloud absentmindedly.

Your father leans against the chicken coop with you, tracing your gaze to the sky.

"I see. He's never had a family, has he?" your father prods.

You shake your head, looking down at the basket in hand. "No. He's only ever had himself and heartache." you affirm.

The older man hums, looking at the dirt beneath his feet. "We should give him a family then," he surmises.

With a gentle scoff, you feel your eyes beginning to burn with raw emotion. "He deserves it. He doesn't even know what he deserves."

"Well, you do, kiddo. You know." your father insists, nudging you with his elbow.

Humming, your arms fold like a comfort blanket around yourself.

You want Yoongi to be so at peace. To love and know his surroundings. To at least understand what he feels day to day.

"Come on, your mother must be putting him through hell," your dad jeers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You laugh, wiping at a stray tear that's had the chance to fall.

You want him to be your family.

Stepping back inside, you can see his gummy smile while he talks with your mother and your heart soars at the sight.

"Here, Mom." he whispers, handing her the bowl of potatoes.

The word he utters, sends you spiralling.

"If she's Mom, then I want to be Dad. You promised!" your father quips, setting the baskets of eggs by the stove.

Yoongi turns to you both in the doorway, black pieces of hair in his eyes as he chuckles.

"Yes, Dad."

Your father hums happily, the smile lines by his eyes wrinkling.

You watch the sight before you, your throat constricting and your nasal passages burning.

Yoongi is happy.

"Excuse me," you gasp, taking off to your childhood bedroom.

"Y-Y/N?" Yoongi calls you, watching you rush off down the hall.

He stands up, bowing to your parents. "Pardon me."

He rushes off to find you, wiping his wet hands on his sweatpants.

"Little dove?" he calls gently, opening the paper door.

Sitting cross legged on your bed, you hold a tissue to your face.

"What did I do wrong?" he asks quickly, shutting the door for privacy.

He's done nothing wrong. It's a shame he always thinks it as such. You were just so astounded, so fucking happy that he could speak so warmly and freely. It took over your whole body.

"Are you upset with me?" he inquires, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

You shake your head violently, sobbing into the tissue.

"Then what is it?" his voice is soft and unsure.

Pulling the tissue away from your face, you take in the worry lines that are etched onto his forehead.

With a whine, you wrap your arms around his neck tugging him into a hug.

Yoongi croons softly, rubbing at your back with comforting swipes.

"Is it the baby? Are you in pain?" he whispers into your ear, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

"No," you breathe out, hugging him tightly.

"Alright." he whispers perplexed.

"I'm happy," you insist, burying your face into his neck.

He feels his heart slow down from the racing pace it was just at. His eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into his lap.

"Me too," he replies truthfully.

Holding each other so closely, your heart beats seem to meld as one. You sit in comfortable silence, your sobs stifling and quieting down to nothing.

"You just looked so h-happy that I…" you croak, balling his shirt in your fists.

The corners of his lips flick upward, his eyes opening to look down at your body in his lap. With soft eyes, he presses his lips to your temple.

"Min Yoongi, I'm going to cut this chicken without you!" your mother calls out.

You feel his body shake with a laugh. "One minute, Mom!"

Your lips press into a straight line, tears threatening to fall again.

"You're happy that your family is welcoming me?" he asks, pulling you away to cup your face with both hands.

You whine gently, nodding while his thumbs stroke at your cheeks.

"I'm happy they're welcoming me too. It feels warm." he whispers, shushing you as you let out a small sob.

"You'll let your family be my family, right?" he asks hopefully.

"Always," you whimper.

He smiles softly, his eyes taking in every curve and inch on your face.

"You'll be my family?" he inquires nervously.

"Yeah, I'll be your family." you cry happily.

He looks up at the ceiling, trying to ebb away tears that threaten to come.

"Good. I'd really like that," he replies gratefully.

Pulling your face closer to his, he kisses you softly, both of your eyes fluttering shut.

When you pull apart, his forehead presses to yours.

"I have to go cut a chicken," your boyfriend mumbles, earning a gentle laugh from you.

"Go cut a chicken," you whisper, sliding off his lap.

"I'm really happy with you," he says earnestly, pushing some hair behind your ear.

"Me too." you reply, watching how he smiles so brightly.

Holding his hand out, he dries your face with the hem of his shirt. "Come on, let's make dinner."

To watch Yoongi laugh and talk to your parents as if he's always known them makes you feel fuller than any of the food on your plate could provide.

"Y/N saved me in History class one time," Yoongi announces to your parents, picking up his glass of whisky.

They hum inquisitively and you lean back against the wall as he chuckles.

"I did really terribly on a quiz that I didn't study for. And, the teacher was embarrassing me. But Y/N told me when the Mongols invaded Goryeo."

"1216." you state, earning a smile from your boyfriend.

He holds up his fingers and you stare at them.

You do remember it.

You remember how embarrassed he looked as a child. You felt the overwhelming urge to help him.

"I remember," you whisper.

He chuckles gently with a hum. "Anyway, she saved my bacon."

Your mother watches you both as you continue to stare at each other over the table. This is good. This is healthy.

"Yoongi, do you play any card games?" your dad asks, setting his chopsticks down on his empty plate.

The smirk that graces his features is devious and you giggle.

"I play poker," he quips, watching as you set down your chopsticks.

"Every Thursday," you add.

Clicking his teeth, he puts a piece of chicken over your unfinished rice. "Eat more for the baby," he insists.

He sounds so sincere you find yourself picking up your spoon.

"Would you like to play poker, later?" your dad inquires.

Yoongi nods, his hand under his chin as he watches you eat. "That'd be great, Dad."

"So how far along is my grandchild now then?" your mother asks, cleaning up the empty plates.

Your boyfriend immediately begins to help her, something he's never done in his life. "Sesame is almost ten weeks old now." he replies and you sit back on your hands to watch him help her.

"Sesame is a cute fetus name, I like that very much."

You can feel the sheer adoration beginning to drip from your mother for your boyfriend. When you first entered his mansion, you had absolutely no idea that it would lead you here. You couldn't have even guessed that he would be becoming a part of your family.

"I have some pictures if you want to see them, I can get a few more copies made to send to you the next time we go to the doctors." he suggests to her as they enter the kitchen.

"I'd love that," she cheers happily.

"I really like this guy," your father whispers conspiratorially to you, picking up your plate and bowl.

You find your nose wrinkling in delight.

"Me too," you mumble, watching your boyfriend's black hair fall into his eyes as he chuckles.

"I really like him too," you mutter to yourself, resting your head against the wall.

"Something tells me that this is your first relationship," your father says, shuffling the deck of cards.

Yoongi looks up from his whisky glass, a small smirk gracing his features. "That obvious, huh?"

The older man laughs, setting the cards down in between both of their bodies. "Just a little bit," he quips.

The CEO chuckles to himself, looking around the barren land of your backyard.

It isn't quite a farm and it isn't quite a relaxing place either. But, he finds it quaint. It's the company that's more so relaxing.

"Everything with Y/N is a first for me," your boyfriend admits, dealing the cards.

"Oh?" your father pushes, picking up his glass of whisky.

Yoongi hums softly, almost unsurely. "Emotions. Caring. Being concerned. Happiness. Actually wanting to be happy. It's all new." he breathes out, looking up at the star flecked sky. 

Your father smirks over the lip of his glass, his smile lines appearing.

"It's hard to break out of a shell, isn't it?" the older man asks.

Answering the question, Yoongi nods.

"It'll be worth it though, won't it?"

"Oh yes, it will be. That's the thing about finding someone you want to care for. You find that everything you're feeling, whether it's new or not, is very worth it." your father replies, throwing a few peanuts into the bowl, in the place of poker chips.

Yoongi does the same, his cheeks puffing out as he thinks.

"Y/N's worth it," he surmises, picking up his whisky glass.

The older man smiles, raising his glass to the CEO. "I'm glad you think so too."

Their warm talk is cut off by the sound of a chainsaw a far bit of distance away. Your father huffs out, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"Old man Im is at it again. Y'know, I can't stand that old prick," he gripes, laying his cards down on the small garden table.

"Old man Im?" Yoongi inquires, squinting at the house lights in the far off distance.

"I've been offering to buy that man's land for years now, it's lush and my wife would be able to plant flowers in it but he always asks for such a high price that it's nearly impossible! He wants to sell the land! He just won't give it to me because Y/N threw a rock through his window when she was a little girl," he proclaims, grabbing the peanuts and munching on them.

Yoongi watches how irritated his new family member is and he's immediately annoyed as well.

"How much is he asking for?" The CEO inquires, folding his arms.

"Five million," your father mumbles, grabbing the stack of cards to shuffle them again.

That's pocket change.

"Old man Im, huh?" Yoongi mumbles, watching the house lights shut off.

Yoongi knows you've been in bed for some time when he enters the shared room. The sheets are ruffled due to your constant turning and your hair is splayed all over your pillow.

He finds himself smirking at the sight, stripping off his shirt to climb into bed with you.

Sliding beneath the sheets, he shivers at how cold his side of the bed is. But he's immediately warm as you throw your body over his.

"Did you have fun?" you mumble somnolently, putting your head on his bare chest.

He snorts gently, smiling up at the ceiling. His eyes flutter shut at the comfort of your body on his. Stroking your head gently, he breathes deeply letting the pleasantness of today wash over him.

"I had more fun today than I probably have ever had in my life," he answers you truthfully.

Your fingers drift over his abs and it's instinctual that he flinches. "Sorry, still working on it."

He still finds it surprising how easy it is to apologize to you when he has never said he's sorry to anyone in his life.

You shake your head, kissing over his skin softly. The shock drifts away, leaving Yoongi to only be comforted by your lips.

"Why do you have so many small tattoos?" you inquire, dragging your fingers over the colorful ink.

Looking down, his tongue runs over his lips feeling as if they're drying out. "Each one is a memory I don't want to forget."

"A memory?" you repeat, picking up your head to look him in the eyes.

"A memory of every cigarette burn that wasn't my fault," he croaks, clearing his throat as he caresses the apple of your cheek.

Your blood runs cold at his strangled voice.

"Like this one, the one of the hummingbird. I put up a bird feeder on my balcony in the winter so they wouldn't starve. And, my father told me that I have no brain. 'Why would you invite those rats with wings into the sanctuary near your bedroom? Are you Mother Theresa, huh? You're making them weak for not finding their own food.' I remember it all the time." your boyfriend says, staring at the paper door as he recites the old memory.

Your teeth grit, eyes narrowing as you cover the tattoo with your hand.

"I hate him," you whisper fiercely, putting your head back on his chest.

"Get in line, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, closing his eyes with a smirk.

There are so many small tattoos that litter his chest, and your throat constricts just looking at them in the moonlit room.

Yoongi looks down at your hand that covers a selection of scars. "Interested in any others?"

He doesn't mind sharing his past with you. In fact, no one knows about these stories he would so quickly give up to you. Not Maya or Namjoon. No one.

"It'll just make me angry," you mumble, turning your head to look up at him.

He chuckles, running his hand over your arm to your stomach. "Well, we don't want that. Anger is poison for Sesame. I should know, I've been poisoned twenty eight years of my life." he sighs.

You scoff gently, moving to lay fully over his body.

"Watch the baby," he grumbles, running his hands over your back as he looks back up at the ceiling.

There's silence for a bit. You just stare at him. Staring at the handsome broken man that's never known happiness.

"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my face," he jeers, squeezing your side gently.

"I really like you," you tell him, sitting up.

He peeks one eye open, the corners of his mouth flickering up with a snort.

"I like you too, baby. That's why I want you to be my family." he replies softly, stroking your thighs with his large hands.

You hum assertively, putting your hands on your hips. "You are my family."

He chuckles, kissing his fingers then mushing them into your lips. "My family member without my blood, housing my family with my blood. My goodness. How much luckier can I get?"

With a smile, you tilt your head as he clears his throat. "Thank you for bringing me here, little dove." he thanks you, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it softly.

"What'd you talk about with my dad?" you inquire, laying down beside him.

Turning his body to yours, he pulls your back against his chest, situating his hand on your stomach.

"Just this and that. I'm probably going to buy a farm tomorrow," he murmurs sleepily.

"A farm? What for?" you ask, running your fingers over his arm.

"I hear that a farm around here has great land for planting. And, I want my family to be able to plant." he whispers, burying his face in your hair.

You go to lift your head in confusion but he shushes you softly.

"Sleep now, little dove. Sesame is tired, just like their father."

The words warm your heart and you smile to yourself, tracing random shapes over his skin.

It's easy for you to wake up in your old bed to the sound of roosters crowing good morning. It's not so easy for the father of your child.

Folding the pillow over his ears, he kicks his legs childishly.

"I hate chickens!" he whines loudly, stamping his feet on the bed.

"That's a rooster," you correct him, stretching as you stand up.

"Smart ass!" he barks out, flipping his body over.

Smothering his face in the pillow, he groans loudly.

"Guess he's not a morning person," your mother calls from the kitchen and the CEO's head immediately pops up.

"Yes, I am!" he retorts softly, his eyebrows furring.

"Mhm," you droll, combing your fingers through your hair.

Sitting up in bed, his joints pop and crack loudly to which he groans.

"The air here is so fresh," you exclaim, opening up the bathroom window.

"Why are you so chipper? We went to bed late," Yoongi inquired with a grumble, standing up out of the bed to crack his knees.

"Because I'm with my family," you reply, turning on the sink.

The CEO turns to the mirror, tilting his head as his hair falls into his eyes.

You're with your family. And that includes him.

He finds himself smiling to himself, grabbing a t-shirt from his luggage.

"Family," he whispers, running his fingers through his hair.

The simple word has so much more meaning than two days ago.

"Did you bring another set of comfortable clothes?" you ask him, peeking out of the bathroom.

"Why?" he inquires, showing you a pair of expensive sweatpants.

"Because it's six o'clock in the morning and we don't get up that early to just stare at each other," you quip with a laugh.

His hand falls, clutching the sweatpants with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever done manual labor?" your father inquires to the CEO, watching him sip his coffee.

Yoongi looks up from his Irish coffee, internally groaning at the question.

"No. I'm a CEO," he retorts, setting down the cup.

Your hand slides over your mouth as you begin to smirk.

"Well, my knees aren't what they used to be. You'll help me gather some apples from the trees out back, won't you?" your dad asks, a kind smile gracing his face.

Pressing his lips into a straight line, your boyfriend sighs. "Of course, Dad."

"Good boy," your mother praises, petting his head sweetly.

He smirks at how affectionate she is.

"And what're you going to do while I'm hard at work?" Yoongi inquires of you, watching you kiss the top of Gaesu's head.

"Probably help my mom cook lunch," you reply.

Yoongi immediately begins to smile, "I love when you cook."

With a giggle, you wrinkle your nose at his cuteness. "I know you do."

"Alright Mr. Never-Did-Manual-Labor. Let's go pick some apples!" your dad cheers, patting your boyfriend on the back.

Yoongi is grateful that you insisted on comfortable clothes. He would have never pictured himself climbing a ladder a day in his life, but here he is. Climbing towards the heavens to just reach for a few apples to fill up a basket.

"I was thinking about something last night," your father states, holding the ladder still as the CEO continues his journey upward.

"Oh?" your boyfriend replies, sitting down at the top of the ladder.

"Why'd you get married to that woman, if you don't like her?" your father prods.

Yoongi's eyes widen, staring at the canopy of leaves not so high above him. Oh, if the ground would only open up and swallow both him and the ladder whole.

His hand shakes as he reaches for a ripe apple, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably.

To be truthful, even though he's only been here a day, he'd forgotten that he's married. He's forgotten that he lives with a despicable woman who ruined him.

"Because my parents made me," he announces, almost falling off the ladder due to nerves.

Your father holds the ladder tighter, watching how nervous the younger man's back is. He can see it tensing and shaking like he's frightened.

"They can just make you get married?" your father asks, clearly appalled.

Yoongi turns to him, dropping an apple to him with a smirk. "Rich parents can make you do anything in the world."

Your father hums softly, his eyebrows furring while he catches the apple.

"Is she mean to my daughter? Should I be worried?"

Yoongi finds his teeth gritting. The simple idea of your father being so worried about you in a house with that leech makes him wrought with anger.

Folding his body over the top of the ladder, he narrows his eyes at your father. "Dad, nothing will ever happen to Y/N and our baby. I would die before that bitch has a chance to hurt them or be mean to them. There is nothing for you to worry about, because I would never let that happen."

Your father's eyes widen at how angry your boyfriend has gotten at the drop of a hat. But, he knows just how serious he is. And he finds his body filling with warmth at how protective the father of your child is towards you.

He hums gently, nodding to Yoongi letting him know he understands. "Why don't you just divorce her?"

The CEO's arm stops as he reaches for another apple.

Why doesn't he just fucking divorce her? Who is she to him? No one.

And then he remembers. And he sees red once more.

"My head maid Maya. She had a daughter named Myeyoung. Sera made her move out when we got married because she was beautiful. I never thought so, she always felt like a sister to me. She was always around so she was just a comfortable person to me. When she moved out, I helped her get a job where she could make enough money and live a good life. She opened up her own art gallery. But I learned what a snake that woman is, that damned woman who loves in my house. If I ever divorced her -- Sera swore she would ruin her life and make Myeyoung suffer if I ever took her money away from her." Yoongi fumes, running his fingers through his hair.

Your father shivers at his words, completely appalled with how bitter and evil this woman sounds.

"I see," he whispers softly.

Yoongi can feel anger coursing through every part of his body as he hangs onto the top of the ladder.

He hadn't thought about it in so long, he hasn't wanted to think about how absolutely vile Sera is. But, she's always brought up and always around to make him miserable.

He takes a deep calming breath.

"Maya has always been like my mother when I didn't really have one. I couldn't just let Myeyoung get fed to the wolves. She's too sweet for that." he announces, grabbing an apple and ripping it from its stem.

"You're a good man, son." your father praises, catching the apple as it falls.

Yoongi chuckles darkly, his tongue licking at his lips. "I'll be a better man when the leech is out of my life."

"Where are we going?" you whine, following your boyfriend as he tugs on your hand.

"I'm going to buy a farm." he replies happily, wading through thickets of bushes.

"This is Old Man Im's farm! He hates me!" you insist, feeling old emotions of terror from when you were a child.

Yoongi stops in his tracks, turning to you.

The sun is setting now, the pretty colors of the sky highlighting your features.

How he adores you.

Lifting his hand, he cups your cheek.

"You know, I'm feeling an emotion that I've never experienced before." he states, stepping closer to you.

With both of your bodies shrouded in the large thicket, it's only you and him.

"What are you feeling?" you ask, concerned and wanting to help.

He hums unsurely, wrapping his free arm around you. Pulling you up against his body, he pushes some stray hairs behind your ear.

"Whenever I look at you, little dove, my heart races like a horse on Sunday. I feel weak and needy when I'm with you. I just want to hold you without the need for food or water. I just want to stare at you every minute of every day.  I just want to… keep you. Forever." he admits.

Your cheeks puff out, heart warmed by his kind words.

"Maybe what you're feeling is infatuation? Or maybe you're feeling comfort?" you ask, adoring how his arms wrap around you, tugging you to his body.

"No I'm not infatuated with you, I'm infatuated with art. My heart -- it bleeds for you." he says, putting his hand on the back of your head to bury your face into his chest.

"Well, we'll figure it out together then," you reply.

"I'd like that." he whispers.

He knows what emotion this is, even if he's never experienced.

He's falling in love with you.

Next Chapter ------->

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @jooniebuggy, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Hii! Could u maybe do a 12 & 13 from fluff prompts with Bucky?

Also congratulations on the milestone! 🤍

Just say yes

A/N: Beware of the fluff attack and Bucky being an absolute puppy dog!

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Prompts - Dancing in the kitchen & Proposal gone wrong. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings: Fluff town, a curse word or two.

Word count: 1500ish

Requests & Challenges

Bucky Barnes Taglist - @marvelgirl7 @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Tags are open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be included in any of these lists ;))

.

As the saying goes, ‘everything that can go wrong, will go wrong’ Bucky found it applicable to his current situation now more than ever.

He had been planning the perfect evening while you were away on a small mission with Sam and were expected to be home in less than an hour. He’d ordered your favourite pizza, kept that special bottle of wine you’d been saving on the table with two glasses, even texted every single person in the team to not disturb once you were home. 

Bucky wanted you all to himself tonight. That and the fact that he was planning to propose. 

You arrived fifteen minutes later looking tattered and exhausted. Bucky frowned, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel as he heard the front door slam shut, concerned when he didn’t hear your usually chirpy voice, he walked out to greet you. 

“Welcome home sweetheart, how was th—”

He stopped mid-sentence after getting a good look at your state, hair in disarray, minor cuts decorating your forehead and chin. It wasn’t the first but today was supposed to be an easy one. 

“Oh you look terrible.” 

“Thanks I feel terrible.” 

Bucky chuckled, pulling you into a hug before pressing a kiss on your temple, immediately feeling your body sink into his. 

“What went wrong? I thought the mission was fairly—” 

“Yeah except it wasn’t. I’m going to take a bath okay.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” 

Sighing, you gently pushed him away to get to the bathroom, peeling off the unitard as you went,  exhaustion making you forget he was waiting for a kiss, but he understood.

“Alright, don’t be too long though. I made you dinner, and I can guarantee it’s edible this time.” 

“I’m sorry babe but I’m not really hungry. All I want is sleep.” 

You mumbled, your voice laden with sleep as you reached for the door, missing Bucky’s dejected face that he quickly recovered from, not wanting you to worry. 

“How about I get you a glass of wine and patch you up?” He offered.

“Yep.”

.

You practically crawled into bed after you bathed, falling asleep instantly. Bucky climbed in shortly after, racking his brain for yet another attempt of proposing as he draped his arm across your waist, gazing at your sleeping form for a while before kissing your forehead. 

. 

A lingering aroma of fresh bacon and eggs woke you up the next day. Peeking through a half open eye, you saw Bucky holding a tray of food in his hands and your favourite flower between his teeth.

“God bless you Bucky Barnes!” You exclaimed, sitting up against the headboard with the biggest smile on your face, making grabby hands at the food as your stomach growled. 

He placed the tray in your lap and tucked the flower behind your ear, whispering ‘good morning’ before leaning in for a kiss which you happily returned.

Bucky had already cleared your schedule for the day, made sure that no one bothered you today, he was determined to not let you out of the house before getting that ring on your finger. 

You took turns eating yourself and feeding your super caring boyfriend who had gone through all this trouble for you, not really saying much but rather enjoying the silence you shared. 

“Hey I got us a table at that Italian restaurant that you love for dinner.” Bucky announced matter-of-factly, hiding his nervous self under the facade of a casual dinner date. 

“I’ll have to check with Agent Hill if there’s some updates after last night’s blow-up but I’m sure th—” 

“Oh that won’t be necessary.” 

“It won’t?” You eyed the man who kept his gaze on the piece of fruit he was toying with in the plate.

“Y-yeah I cleared your schedule for the day.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. I want you all to myself.” Bucky’s soft smile warmed your heart as did his honesty, making you lean forward and place a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“So it’s a date Barnes.”

“It’s a date.”

.

Bucky went over his plan once more after deciding to drop the idea of proposing in a public place, he figured he would take you out for a nice meal first, get home, maybe open a nice bottle of wine with some cake and do it then. 

He still had some issues when people disturbed your peace while out at a public place or a social gathering. People would stare, ask for pictures with his vibranium arm or just generally give him the look making him utterly uncomfortable. He decided he couldn’t afford that tonight, everything had to be perfect. He even decided to take the efforts of making you a chocolate cake from scratch. 

Evening rolled by and the kitchen counter was a mess of broken eggshells, a thousand mixing bowls and spoons, the floor covered in sugar and cocoa powder while Bucky wiped the sweat off his forehead and finally got the batter in the oven. 

Looking around, he knew it would eventually have to be professionally cleaned or it would be sleeping on the couch for a week. Somehow he had to evade you from entering the kitchen until he popped the question. 

The super soldier double checked the ring box in his back pocket and set the timer, getting to make the ganache for the cake. 

“Bucky! Get in here right now!” You yelled from the bathroom, voice sounding downright pissed off. 

“Ah fuck what now.” 

Muttering under his breath, he ran, only to find your fully clothed self drenched as the water sprayed everywhere from the broken shower. 

“Oh God, are you alright?”

“Besides being fucking soaked and ruining my new dress & make-up? Oh just fabulous!” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and stepping away to let him in the mini pool.

You stood next to him shivering while he tried his best to fix it, his vibranium arm doing the trick as he closed the tap, now completely soaked the same as you. 

A tiny box fallen on the wet floor caught your attention and you bent to pick it up, gasping when you opened it to find the most beautiful diamond ring sitting inside the cushioned box. 

It felt more and more real the longer you stared at it, unable to form words, glancing at the man you loved and who, by some miracle loved you back & enough to take this next big step. 

“Bucky…” 

“Hmm?” He wasn’t paying attention.

“What uh..when did you—please look at me.” You croaked, holding the tiny box up in your palm.

Bucky’s eyes turned wide before his hand automatically went for the back pocket of his jeans from where the ring must’ve fallen.

“Fucking hell.”

“What? I hope this isn’t for someone else.” You chuckled at your terrible attempts of a joke, tears already gathering in your eyes while Bucky scratched the back of his neck nervously. 

“Okay I’m gonna do this now. Wait fuck, let me get you a towel first, you’re shivering.”

He hurried to wrap you in a fluffy towel, walked you out and sat you on the bed before knelt down on both knees and cleared his throat.

“Here we go. None of the amazing things that have happened in my life in the past few years would’ve happened, if it weren’t for you. You have been one of the most integral parts of my journey towards healing and by no means is it over, but I know I can’t go ahead without you. You’ve loved me through my worst and by some miracle continue to do so even today.” He chuckled, tears gathering in his eyes while you were down right sobbing at this point.

“I mean it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, I had a whole thing planned and now the kitchen’s a big mess and we have a pool in the bathroom. But again when has anything worked perfectly for us right?”

You giggled through tears, nodding as your mind automatically played all those memories, first date, first kiss, the first ‘i love you’s, everything. It wasn’t the smoothest ride with Bucky but it was the best and you wouldn’t have it any other ways. 

“So Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), would you be interested in spending the rest of your life with a semi-stable hundred year old man?” 

Wiping your tears, you knelt in front of the man yourself as fresh tears appeared, cupped Bucky’s face in your hands and kissed him with all the love you had in you.

“What do you say?” He mumbled, never breaking the kiss as he stood up with you and walked you over to the bed.

“What do you want me to say? I already found the ring.” You giggled, flopping on the bed and peeling your clothes off, dinner reservations  long forgotten. 

“Just say yes.”

“Yes.” Saying it out loud made you believe it actually happened, as Bucky climbed between your parted legs.

“Say it again.”

“Yes!” 

.

Two hours later when you were finally ready to leave the bedroom, you found yourself in the kitchen in Bucky’s arms, swaying to some 40s ballads that he put on, the floor was a complete mess but neither of you cared. The cake he’d prepared was mostly burnt - thankfully he ran to turn the oven off right before giving you your second orgasm of the night. 

But you wouldn’t trade this moment, this day or this man for anything. 

[script-nef]

Tokyo to France

Category: fluff

1.6k words; Office date [1/6]

Gojou Satoru is many things. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, an official title which is proven often to be true; humanity's ray of light in the fight against cursed spirits—see the "strongest sorcerer" bit; a teacher at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu Specialty High School even though most, if not all, of the Sorcerers Exclusive don't really approve of him; and a total bother. 

He has an aloof and laid-back aura, indicating he doesn’t really care about much other than his missions and his occupation as a teacher. He’s whimsical and spontaneous, sometimes selfish in the extreme, putting his desires—like his all-too-often snack breaks—first ahead of anything, except for critical situations. And even then he might still not come. Add his total disregard for higher-ups who pretend to see the “bigger picture”, and there’s a lot of reasons why everyone he’s ever met—well, most of everyone since the newest kid Itadori is yet to experience the full "Gojou's shitty antics" ride just yet but it'll come soon, you can tell—are often annoyed by him.

And the one person who experiences this more than anyone is you, who's currently suffering under his relentless chatter after another successful mission. He always does this, like you’re the only person in the world he can talk to (read: bother).

You don't have anything specific against the man, he’s usually a good friend and a welcomed fellow sweets enthusiast, it's just that you're currently behind on your assigned paperwork and he's a great distraction. His tales are often laced with humour and he has a natural knack for storytelling. The fact that Gojou has a nice, soothing voice which beckons for your attention is also a factor. If you didn't have work you'd be fully invested in his recount but as previously discussed, he has shitty antics and one of those is not particularly caring about whether the other person is busy or not. 

He keeps talking and words like “egg tart”, “Shibuya” and “internationally famous” slip through your defence, forcing your brain to block out the lengthy paragraphs on the report and enticing you to listen to him. After a while, you decide that this is getting nowhere. You can’t remember the last couple of paragraphs and Gojou is usually relentless, but you can hear his voice weakening just a bit as you pretend to ignore him. 

Resigning yourself from the work and leaning back onto the chair, you make pseudo-eye contact with him. He seems to brighten up just a bit when you do so, the strength of his voice returning. That makes a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. You'll just have to pull an all-nighter after your dinner with Ken-chan. 

Gojou always has great stories about his trips everywhere, both in Japan and overseas. Having a teleportation skill is incredibly useful, you realise with envy. If only I had his inherited techniques is a thought which pervades your mind often. 

"And I was so close to getting the egg tart but the person in front of me bought the last one! I waited for an hour! For nothing!" The story is topped off with a small pout as he slouches on the chair, chin sitting on the backrest. You laugh, amused at the sudden change of mood. Only he could go from happy and light-hearted to gloomy and dejected in a breath, jokingly or not.

An easy conversation flows between the two of you as you finally disregard your work, chin resting on your palm and eyes crinkling with laughter. 

It’s nice like this. He’s been coming around the office more lately, sometimes armed with sweets and sometimes with an agenda to whisk your time away for his use because he’s bored. It’s mostly fine because a person to talk to is welcomed after a couple of hours by yourself, staring at lit screens until you can feel your eyes die off. You once got a scare because everything had a weird white outline when you finally diverted your eyes from the screen. In a sense, he was keeping your sight safe. He smiled when you said that, replying “Glad I can be of service!” before rattling off another description of a strawberry cheesecake he found in Belgium.

“It must be so nice, being able to teleport places. It takes me so much time just to travel within Japan, honestly such a bother. And I can’t really go overseas either with so many tasks to do with all the cursed spirits running around.” Sighing, you slouch on the desk and bury your face in your arms, missing how Gojou’s lips immediately quirk up.

“I can take you there, you know.” Your head shoots up at that, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can take you anywhere. How about France? We’ll be there in the blink of an eye. We can spend a couple of hours there, eat as many pastries as we want to and just snap right back here. What do you say?” His foot taps on the ground repeatedly, like he’s nervous or agitated. Is he in a hurry or something?

Well, it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. The offer sounds nice. Really, really nice. 

It’s been a while since you had a break. Not like you can take a long one since cursed spirits are unpredictable in their appearances and need constant attention so that civilian casualties don’t occur. Which means the workflow never stops coming. A trip to pastry country sounds amazing.

“Sure, that sounds good. We need to set up a ti—”

“Gojou-sensei!”

The door slams open, the sound echoing through the hallway and the office. Gojou’s new student, Itadori Yuuji, leans on the door while gasping for breaths. 

“Hey, Yuuji! What’s the rush?” 

“We’re supposed to be training! I was waiting in the room for the past 10 minutes!” A quick glance at the clock indicates 6:40 and you finally notice the sun setting over the mountains. The fading light paints the room in a golden warmth, which makes you wonder why you didn’t notice how fast time was flying. Probably because you were too invested in your conversation with your friend.

Who is now picking himself up from the chair and putting up theatrics by brushing off non-existent dust from his pants. Small giggles escape at his antics. A glance at Itadori tells you he’s close to dying from either dehydration or exhaustion. He must have run all over the campus trying to find Gojou. You wonder why he doesn’t just use his phone. You do live in the fifth technological age and sort of expect a teenager like him to be able to use one.

“Itadori-kun, do you want some water?” Rising out of your seat, you reach for a cup but Gojou’s hand stops it by covering yours. He twists your hand in his and interlaces his fingers with yours.

“No, it’s fine. We’re going to go now. Think about the time and date, okay? Keep in mind the time difference.” He gives the connected hand a slight jiggle as a farewell, skipping out of the room with a bright “Goodnight!” He’s initiating a lot more physical contact recently. Wonder what that’s about.

Itadori watches the scene unfold from the doorway, jaw slack. His eyes follow Gojou but as soon as he’s out of the room, they snap to you. He stares at you so intensely that it looks like his eyes are going to pop out of its sockets pretty soon. You have no idea why he’s staring at you like this and why he’s not following his teacher. It’s like he’s frozen solid in his spot.

Some—read all—of his students sometimes complain about his walking speed, how he purposefully uses his leg length as an advantage and briskly walks on ahead, leaving them in the dust. Some—again, read: all—of your co-workers said the same thing as well. You asked him about it one day and he replied with a great big smile, “I just do it for fun!” He doesn’t do it to you, though. It’s weird because he does it at least once to everyone else you ever met, even your own brother, despite him being only a few centimetres shorter than Gojou. It apparently played a part in his reluctance to partner up with him. Or just generally hang out with him. You wish he’d give Gojou a chance, he’s not that bad once you get to know him. 

Hm, maybe I just don’t have an interesting enough reaction for him. Am I not interesting? Is it a really weird and backhanded way of telling me I’m boring? The train of thoughts takes off, expanding and multiplying until you realise Itadori is still imitating a befuddled statue.

You stare at him. He stares back. He doesn’t break eye contact. This is a really weird thing to think right now but he would absolutely crush everyone at a staring contest. 

“Itadori-kun? Don’t you need to go?” That seems to startle him out of his stupor. 

“Ah, ye—yes! Sorry for interrupting!” Before you can assure him that there was nothing to interrupt, the poor boy stumbles out of the room and also manages to bonk his head on the door and wall no less than twice. Yelps of “I’m okay!” and “Don’t worry!” followed by his running stops you from checking up on him.

“Man, Gojou must really have his hands full taking care of such a clumsy boy. Thank God Fushiguro is a bit more calmer. Now, where and when should we go… Probably should find out the time difference like he said… Oh! Maybe I can invite Shouko and Ken-chan to come along! They need to get out and have a holiday as well. I’m sure Gojou won’t mind if I invite them.”

Masterlist | Next chapter →

[itsstrange]

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

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ENJOY!!

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The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

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[pascalpanic]

this is random but today was my birthday and it wasn't as good as I hoped it would be. most of my family members seemed to forget all about it and almost no one sent me a text or anything like that, which really sucked and sort of made me feel sad and unwanted?? so that wasn't great :(

this might sound silly and really pathetic but I was sort of hoping that you could write me a little thing about how [ insert pedro boy of your choice because I just need some comfort right now and im not picky ] definitely would NOT forget about my birthday and try to make me feel better about this on my special day?? only if you want to though.

- ✨

Rose Petals (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Javier never forgets a date. You’re going to have a wonderful birthday.

W/C: 1.3k

Warnings: food, alcohol, brief mention of death, probably language, innuendo, otherwise totally fluff

A/N: BABE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I’m so sorry it wasn’t good and I hope this can make up for it at least a little.

Javier Peña is a man who never forgets a date. It’s like he has a tiny little calendar ingrained in his brain. The man is endlessly busy, swamped with files and papers and so much knowledge it would take up the whole embassy to store it on paper, but dates come easily to him.

He remembers the day his mother died. That was in late August. He remembers the date of your first kiss, the first time he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close and moved your lips to his. That was about a year ago this time now. And Javier always especially remembers your birthday.

His work schedule is hard. Javier’s always at work, it feels like, but he adores you when he’s at home. He’s a good cook; he’ll make the two of you dinner and cuddle on the couch after, do whatever you’d like until he eventually asks that the two of you go to bed. Even though he’s working his ass off, some nights absolutely drowning in paperwork he has no choice but to bring home, he always puts you first.

You’d spoiled him on his birthday. That’s part of what he loves about you: how above and beyond you go for him. To you, it was nothing extravagant; you gave him a massage, cooked dinner and bought a nice bottle of whiskey to go with it. You got him new shirts, a nice watch, and a new cologne.

To Javier, it was the entire world. Most of his birthdays were spent alone or with a prostitute to hide his anxiety over getting older. Very few things you’ve ever seen could compare to the look on the stoic man’s face when you walked out from the kitchen holding an iced, sprinkled, layered, candle-topped cake singing happy birthday. He almost cried, he had to admit. Javier never expected to have love like this, like Steve and Connie do, like his parents did. He insisted you sit on his lap to eat, no matter how much you tried to protest.

Javier wants to spoil you equally. The problem is that he doesn’t exactly know… well, how. He’s gotten you a few presents, things you’ve mentioned in passing or that he thought you’d like. He has them stored in his closet beneath his work clothes. But you do so much for him, Javier feels it’s only fair he returns the favor.

Your birthday falls on a weekday this year, sadly enough. Javier wants nothing more than to pamper you in bed all day, but that’s not possible for either of you.

What you wake to on your birthday is an empty bed. Disappointing. Rolling over and reaching for Javier, you find nothing. It makes you sigh softly, out of sadness, but a smell of cooking fills the aid and you hope it’s something good.

It is. Javier has the oven running, with just two minutes left. There’s a full pot of coffee on the counter, and scrambled eggs on the stovetop. There’s a note, written in Javier’s scribbled handwriting.

Happy birthday, mi amor. I promise I’ll take good care of you tonight. Hope you like the food. Call me when you get the chance.

-J

Clutching the note to your chest, you grin and laugh a little. Javier’s a romantic at heart, even if it took a while for him to show that to you. You pull the cinnamon rolls from the oven and turn it off, taking a deep whiff of the pastries and relaxing. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you wait for the food to cool.

-

Both you and Javier end up having long days. Your work is busy, leaving you hardly any time to breathe, much less to call him. His gesture fills your heart all day, and you find yourself smiling a little when you have the time to take a moment.

None of your coworkers remember your birthday. It stings a little at first, but the amount you care fades as the day goes on. With the hustle and bustle of your workplace, you hardly have the time to remember that it’s your own birthday. Even during lunch, you’re working tirelessly, and don’t have the chance to call Javier.

Javi wanted to call you first, to wish you a happy birthday vocally, but he gets sent out on a street mission to find someone in the morning. When he and Steve return to the embassy, there’s paperwork to be filed, reports to be typed, everything.

It doesn’t matter that he has a desk covered in tasks. When the clock strikes 4, an hour before you’ll be home, Javier shuts his file. “Cover for me?” he asks Steve.

“Depends,” the man drawls, twisting a cigarette between his fingers. “Why?”

“It’s my girl’s birthday,” Javier shakes his head at Steve’s attitude and pulls his leather jacket on. “I’ll stay as long as I need to tomorrow, but I’m going home now. See you tomorrow, Murph.”

“Good luck, Peña. Don’t break the bed,” he calls after him as the dark-haired man walks off. Javier doesn’t bother to reply.

When he enters your apartment, Javier gets to work instantly. Lighting candles, sprinkling rose petals, everything. You always mention how romantic that looks when you make him watch those cheesy rom-coms with you, and Javier has to admit it does look lovely when he’s finished. The last thing to do is open a bottle of wine, pour two glasses, and wait. It won’t take long- the decor took a while.

When your key turns in the doorknob, Javier jumps up from the couch and rushes to the door, holding a rose. “Happy birthday,” he finally gets to tell you, capturing your lips in a kiss before you can say thanks.

When he breaks away, you smile and go to thank him, but he beats you to the punch, taking your coat and bag. “How was work today?”

“It was… oh, Javi,” you laugh, admiring the beauty of the apartment. “Oh my god, you made it look so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he flirts, which makes you roll your eyes. “You always talk about how much you love this in the movies,” he shrugs, taking your hand and leading you to the table. He pulls out a chair for you. “Thought we should try.”

“You’re too good to me,” you chuckle and take the wine sitting in front of you, taking a sip and sighing.

“You’re too good for me,” Javi refutes and kisses your head. He sits down across from you, taking your hands and kissing your knuckles. “Happy birthday, amor. I have the whole night planned for us. For you, really.”

“Javi,” you laugh, smiling at the romantic gestures around you. He’s never this openly loving, and you really don’t mind. “This doesn’t feel… you.”

“Well, it’s you, and I’m more than willing to compromise,” he says with a gentle smile. There’s a plate of appetizers on the table, and he snatches one. When he talks again, through a mouthful of food, you recognize your usual Javi. “I promise you’ll love it.”

“I already do,” you assure him with a wide grin. “Thank you, baby. I love you so much.”

“Anything for you,” he assures you and drinks his wine. “I love you too. Now, I’m going to get dinner cooking. You just sit and relax.”

“Will do,” you chuckle and slump down in your chair.

Javier walks past and kisses your head one more time. “Happy birthday, baby.”